Mountain place
- the farthest, eastern part of the altar. The bishop sits on a seat built on the High Place at certain moments of the bishop's service, and the clergy serving with him are located on the sides. In ordinary parish churches, on the High Place there is symbolically the throne of the Bishop or a lamp or tall candle, and on the sides there are benches for priests.
The high place symbolizes the vision of John the Theologian: the Lord sitting on the throne, and next to him sat kings and priests (Rev. 4
:4).
Altar
- a table at the northern wall of the altar, to the left of the throne. Proskomedia is performed on the altar, that is, bread and wine are prepared for the Eucharist. Sacred vessels for celebrating the Eucharist are kept on or near the altar.
Iconostasis
- a wall of several rows of icons spanning the entire width of the temple, separating the altar. To enter the altar, there are three doors in the iconostasis - the Royal Doors, the northern and southern deacon's doors.
Royal Doors
- symbolize the doors of Paradise.
Veil
- a curtain behind the iconostasis, separating the Royal Doors and the throne. During services it opens and closes. The veil can be of different colors depending on the holiday. In the Old Testament temple, a curtain separated the Holy of Holies from the temple. During the death of the Savior on the cross, the veil of the Jerusalem Temple was torn in two as a sign that heaven was now open to all who follow Christ.
Pulpit
(ancient Greek “elevation”) - a semicircular elevation in front of the iconostasis opposite the Royal Doors. The Gospel is read on the pulpit, litanies and sermons are pronounced.
Solea
(Greek “flat place”) - a raised platform in front of the iconostasis across the entire width of the temple.
You can
.
Cheryl Whitaker
Before the altar
1
Juliana Graves sighed wearily. It's good that the week is ending, tomorrow is Saturday. Working in a shelter for minors allowed her to feel needed by society and, above all, by unfortunate children, but it also took a lot of mental and physical strength. Summer was approaching, and with it the long-awaited vacation, but Juliana could not decide on her plans. On the one hand, she wanted to go to Spain, visit Barcelona, Seville, Toledo - just these names already made her heart pound, like a child anticipating going to the circus - and maybe spend a week at sea, for example, in Andalusia . On the other hand, the old Vauxhall had long required replacement, threatening to crumble right on the road. And it would be fine if everything was limited to just this. Juliana sighed again.
She knew how difficult it would be for Mr. Bartnell, the director of the orphanage, in her absence. Finding a nurse who would agree to imprison herself for two weeks in a shelter located a good ten miles from the nearest town, and for a very modest salary, is not an easy task. It was not for nothing that acquaintances sometimes looked at Juliana with sympathy and pity, as if asking: why are you burying yourself in this wilderness, who needs your victims? She herself often asked the same questions and a couple of times, when despair took precedence over a sense of duty, she packed her bags. But after…
The telephone rang in the hallway.
- Yes?
- Jewel, it's me, Emerald...
Well, of course, who else could call at half past ten in the evening, if not your own sister.
- Something happened?
- Oh God, Jewel, why do you always ask the same question?! Can't I just call my sister and...
Juliana smiled involuntarily. She and Emerald were twins, their life paths diverged almost three years ago, but the connection did not break, and they met at least once a month, sometimes at Juliana's, but more often in London, where Emerald studied at the drama school and worked part-time on the radio , then at film studios, acting in extras.
- So, are you okay?
- Well, of course! — Emerald answered too cheerfully. - How are you? Have you decided on your vacation yet?
- Not yet. Why are you asking?
There was more than a month left before the vacation, and Juliana was alarmed by her sister’s question. Emerald did not know how to be cunning, although she considered herself a great specialist in this area, and in a conversation she always got to the point after the very first introductory phrases.
“I have an interesting offer for you,” Emerald said in the tone of a traveling salesman trying to sell stale goods.
- Which one? - Juliana asked, no longer doubting the correctness of her suspicions.
- Not on the phone. We need to meet and discuss everything. Can you come to London tomorrow?
- You see…
- Clear. Something with Vauxhall again? Or did one of your charges have a fever? Or maybe Mr. Bartnell invited you to the movies?
- Stop it, I just wanted to rest a little and tidy up the apartment.
Emerald moaned protractedly. She perceived housework as the second heaviest punishment; the first was, at least in childhood, a ban on watching television.
- Okay, Jewel, I'll come by the morning train.
- So what happened, can you explain?
The answer was beeps. Juliana hung up. Well, we talked. Emerald is in her repertoire. I wonder what she meant by some proposal? Maybe her sister wants to try to drag her to London once again? Previous attempts had come to nothing, but not for lack of diligence on Emerald's part. No, it's something else. What?
Juliana shook her head irritably. Why this fruitless digging into oneself? Why ask questions that have no answer?
She walked aimlessly around the room, stopped at a bookshelf and pulled out the first book she came across. It turned out to be “Jamaica Tavern” by Daphne Du Maurier. That's what she lacks - romance, adventure. But where does romance come from in a juvenile detention center? What adventures can there be in this bearish corner, where the event of the year is considered an innocent romance between a young teacher and the son of a neighboring farmer?
Juliana put the book down and sat down on the sofa, turning on the TV. The heroes of the series, which was already in its third week, were once again vigorously sorting things out. Are there really people living this kind of life somewhere? Can anyone really be seriously concerned about such trifles? Are there really no self-respecting women and noble men left in the world? Really...
No, you can't do that. Juliana turned off the TV, turned off the lights and moved into the bedroom. The bed was already made, and she, throwing off her robe, hurriedly dived under the blanket. No problem, tomorrow is a day off. Emerald will arrive tomorrow. They'll talk a lot, and then maybe go to Birmingham, go shopping, eat ice cream and sit in the park. What else is needed for happiness? Maybe a new hairstyle and some fashionable perfume.
# # #
- Emerald!
- Jewel!
The sisters threw themselves into each other's arms as if they had not seen each other for several years. Every meeting became a holiday for them, and despite all the differences in characters, lifestyles, tastes and habits, they never brought their differences to conflict.
— Did you come by taxi? Juliana asked and took a step back to get a better look at her sister. She, as always, looked great: the model’s figure allowed her to wear anything - from jeans to an evening dress.
- What else? You haven't met me.
- Sorry, but this pile of scrap metal is to blame for everything, which is long overdue for a landfill. — Juliana tapped on the hood of the Vauxhall. “Can you imagine, I’ve been fiddling around all morning, but it still won’t start.”
- I would ask someone. — Emerald gave her face an innocent expression and batted her eyelashes. Her appearance was so touching that Juliana would not have been at all surprised if the old Vauxhall had become dignified, opened the door and started rattling. - Well, okay, I'll take it upon myself. I hope everything is fine with your stove? I didn't even have time to have breakfast.
Juliana smiled.
- Aren't you on a diet?
Emerald waved her hand nonchalantly. Diets were her hobby, and she changed them about once and six months.
- I need to talk to you. The matter is urgent, so we must solve it today.
- You mentioned some kind of proposal...
- Don't knock me down. Let's have breakfast first, and then I'll tell you everything.
- Fine.
Of course, Emerald couldn't resist. Before Juliana had time to make coffee, her sister had already bombarded her with amazing news.
- They give me a role!
- Really?
- Yes. Remember when I told you that I participated in the casting for David Lonsbury's film? So, yesterday my agent called me and said that the actress who passed the selection broke her leg, and filming should begin in two weeks.
- Congratulations! I'm happy for you, Emerald. This is the chance you've been waiting for.
- Thank you. But there is one problem. The fact is that I won another competition.
- What a problem this is! Take the prize and buy yourself a new dress.
Emerald smiled sadly. Over the past two years, she has participated in several beauty contests and often won. The prize money helped her stay afloat until she got a real job, and she used it to pay for her education.
“That’s the thing, it’s not that simple.” I can’t refuse Lonsbury’s offer - this role could be the beginning of a great career for me. God, dozens of girls sleep and see themselves as the heroine of his film! Getting featured at David's is a ninety percent guarantee that you'll be invited somewhere else. Maybe even to Hollywood.
Juliana frowned.
- But what's the matter then?
- It's about this stupid competition that I won. - Emerald sighed. — Before the competition, all participants signed a contract with the organizers. So now I have some obligations.
- What kind of obligations? And what kind of competition was this? — Juliana put down her cup and looked intently at her sister.
- Good good. A month ago I was offered to participate in a charity program. They promised to pay well. Well, I thought and thought and agreed. Why not? There is no such thing as too much money. Who knew that they would choose me?
— Emerald, please answer what kind of competition this is. At least what is it called?
- “Married to a Count.”
- “Married to a Count”? - Juliana repeated in amazement. - Damn it, little sister, this is humiliating! Have you forgotten what happened last year? I mean that scandal with some Italian...
— Not with an Italian, but with a Greek. Yes, I agree. The girls were deceived, and the millionaire turned out to be a rogue. — Emerald shrugged. - And what do you suggest? Sit and wait for luck to fall from the sky? Or vegetate in minor roles all my life? I don't know about you, but I...
- Wait! Juliana interrupted her sister decisively. Judging by the violent outburst of emotions, Emerald really found herself in some kind of difficult situation. And, unfortunately, not for the first time. - So, what are the terms of the contract?
- Nothing special. The winner must marry this very count... or duke? I forgot.
- What an abomination. And you walked up and down the runway and made eyes at some disgusting old man? Did you sell yourself? Emerald, Emerald, where is your pride...
“Pride does not pay dividends,” Emerald objected reasonably. “And he’s not an old man, but a real handsome man.” I think he is about thirty years old. And the name! Philip!
- Philip? — Juliana was wary. -Another Italian?
- Well, I didn’t guess. He's Spanish. Philippe d'Aguilar. By the way, he is even some kind of relative of their king...
“But you’re not going to marry him, are you?”
- No, of course not! — Emerald waved her hands. - Only movies. I was so lucky to fall into the hands of David Lonsbury! Although this Philip made an impression on all our girls, and Diana Wilcox simply went out of her way to please him.
-Have you talked to the agent? Can the contract be terminated?
- That's the point, it's impossible. That is, of course, it is possible, but then you will have to pay a huge penalty. Something around fifty thousand pounds.
- Wow! We probably won’t even have ten. — Juliana looked thoughtfully out the window. They had a joint bank account, money was put aside for a “rainy day,” but, of course, these savings could not cover the penalty payments.
“It’s not so bad, little sister,” Emerald said guiltily. - I came up with something. I have a plan.
“I hope we don’t have to kidnap the heir to the throne or rob a jewelry store?” — Juliana asked with sad irony.
Plans were born in Emerald’s head with enviable consistency, but every time some annoying little thing was discovered that interfered with their implementation. It’s good if this little thing caught your eye even at the discussion stage, it’s worse when it showed up in the process of implementing the plan, popping out suddenly, like a nail on the heel of a new shoe.
- Don't worry, but I just need your help.
- Lay out your plan.
“There is a clause in the contract: the winner will marry this... count within thirty days.” A month is given to both of them to get to know each other better and make their final choice. If either of them refuses, the marriage is annulled. But if one of the two terminates the contract early, before the expiration of thirty days, then the money - did I mention that this is a charity event? — are returned to sponsors, rather than going to help those in need. I can't pay the fine and I can't leave England for thirty days because filming starts in a week, so... that's why you'll go to Spain.
- What? I?! — Juliana thought she had misheard.
- Jewel, you have to help me! I helped you at school when you didn’t go to the exam. Do you remember?
- But here it’s completely different! — Juliana was indignant. — School is one thing, and quite another... Spain.
- Listen to me to the end. You will go there, meet with this Philippe d'Aguilar, explain the situation to him and offer him a replacement.
- What other replacement? What are you talking about?
Emerald opened her bag and took out an envelope.
— Here are photographs of Diana Wilcox. She is twenty-three, three years younger than you and me. Diana is a real beauty. Can you imagine, with such an appearance and without any prospects! She doesn't know how to act and gets lost in front of the camera. The poor thing tried so hard in front of this damn Spaniard, she just couldn’t jump out of her swimsuit, and he paid zero attention.
- What if the count doesn’t agree?
“I have to agree, Jewel.” You always knew how to convince people. At the very least, offer him compensation, our ten thousand. I'll make good money filming, so in three months we won't have any problems with money. So, tomorrow morning we're going to London, and on Monday you're flying to Barcelona. I took a return ticket.
Juliana shook her head.
- Do not rush. First of all, I haven't given my consent yet. And secondly, I have work. Have you forgotten?
- Of course I haven’t forgotten. But Mr. Bartnell won't be a problem. I've already agreed. I called him yesterday after talking to you. She hinted that you have the opportunity to relax in Spain. He agreed that you work too much and need a vacation. We will go to him in the evening and finally settle everything. So I arranged everything!
- You arranged everything! Without asking me! — Juliana jumped up, knocking over the stool. - How easy it is for you to do everything! But I don't look at life as a ridiculous comedy. “She threw the envelope on the table. “And I don’t like it when someone decides what I should do.”
Emerald looked at her sister in surprise.
- Don’t you think that with such an attitude towards life you will soon forget how to smile? Jewel, we are soon twenty-seven years old, do you really want to bury yourself in this shelter? Of course, it’s up to you, but I, I’m different! Yes, we were unlucky that mom and dad died when we were still going to school. But remember how they lived, how they always trembled over every shilling, how they denied themselves everything.
- They thought about us!
- And what? Left us a fortune? No, don't think that I blame them for anything, but I don't want that kind of life. I don't want poverty. And I’m annoyed that you, my sister, have shut yourself off from the whole world. You don’t even have a decent car! When was the last time you kissed?
- Well, really!
- And what? Yes, you are doing the right and noble thing. But is it really your destiny to take care of other people's children? There aren't even any men your age here. Mr. Bartnell is old enough to be your father, and Nick Jarvis is married. “Emerald also stood up and stepped towards her sister. - Jewel...
- You accuse me of being a recluse. But I like it here. These kids need me! - Juliana objected hotly, as if convincing herself. “In a couple of years I’ll move to the city and rent an apartment.” What should I complain about? I live the way I want.
- And me too.
“But I don’t get involved in dubious adventures that others have to pay for.”
- But…
- No, Emerald, you should have thought through everything in advance. I'm not going to clean up the mess you made. “As soon as she uttered these words, Juliana immediately regretted what she had said and turned away embarrassedly.
The sisters were silent for some time. One scolded herself for being harsh and incontinent, the other was offended. Emerald was the first to break the silence.
- What's wrong with you, little sister? I have never thought…
- Sorry, honey. — Juliana extended her hand, and the sisters hugged. - Of course, I will help you, but only on one condition...
- Which one?
- Promise that you will never sign more than one contract in the future.
Emerald laughed cheerfully.
“I promise to always consult with you.” Now let's go get our things. I hope you don't intend to appear before the Count in jeans and a washed-out blouse? I have an amazing summer suit.
2
The flight lasted a relatively short time, but as soon as she walked down the ramp at Barcelona airport, Juliana felt like she had entered another world. From the English spring, uncertain and timid, she was transported to a blooming summer with a high blue sky, hot sun and a slightly salty wind.
Contrary to expectations, no one met her at the ramp, and Juliana, hanging her travel bag over her shoulder, followed the rest of the passengers towards the airport building. After standing in line for ten minutes to the “green corridor”, she went out into the arrivals hall and again did not find the slightest hint of fanfare. No one was expecting her with a sign in her hand. No one looked at her face. And even the announcer-informant, who apparently did not stop talking for a minute, did not say her sister’s name.
On the plane, Juliana finally determined her tactics: a short business conversation, no polemics, no concessions. She will explain the situation to this D'Aguilar, hand over an envelope with photographs of Diana Wilcox, apologize and fly to England on the next flight. An additional argument is a second envelope with ten thousand pounds. Of course, it would be nice, once in Barcelona, to walk around the city, or even better to stay in Spain for at least a week, but...
What kind of person is this count? Why is he looking for a bride in England and not in his homeland? Why does he resort to such strange methods of dating? Maybe Philippe d'Aguilar is as much a count as she is a princess? Maybe this is some kind of modern version of Bluebeard? Maniac? Terrorist?
She looked around the waiting room again. The crowds of arrivals and greeters subsided, and those who remained did not at all resemble a noble caballero - two young men, a small group of Arabs animatedly talking, an elderly married couple and a tall, dark-haired man of about thirty in khaki slacks and a blue shirt with an open collar.
Juliana did not dare to look at the stranger openly, and therefore was content with studying his reflection in the window of the souvenir kiosk. He is most likely Spanish - two facts pushed her to this conclusion: the newspaper in Spanish in his hand and his nose with a hump. Could the stranger be a count? I think no. Juliana has already formed an idea of d'Aguilar: a self-confident, pampered, arrogant whip who travels around Europe in search of pleasures and pleasures and, probably, does not take a step outside the castle gates without a bodyguard. The man in the waiting room did not fit this image. But he was quite suitable for the role of a bodyguard for a jaded aristocrat: strong, self-confident, daring and, perhaps, dangerous.
In general, as Juliana managed to notice, Spanish men were different from their British counterparts. And it wasn’t the clothes at all, but the presence of a certain style, elegance, and demeanor.
Her gaze automatically slid towards the stranger, and at the same moment he raised his head and looked straight at Juliana. It was as if a hot desert wind had hit her in the face, and her heart, trembling like a hare taken by surprise, began to run. Confused and confused, Juliana turned away and walked resolutely towards the information window.
Well, if Señor D'Aguilar didn't show up any time soon, she'd leave him a note with an explanation, include an envelope with photos, and take off on the next flight.
— Señorita Graves? - a low male voice sounded behind her.
Juliana quickly turned around - the man with the newspaper was standing a step away from her. Tall, broad-shouldered, with an attentive and calm gaze. She straightened her hair, although there was no need for it.
