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Authors: Harper Fox
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day.”
“Caius!”
“What?” Cai swung round to face Ben. “Why is anyone listening to this man?”
“Because he’s our abbot,” Ben replied flatly. Cai opened his mouth, but Ben took his shoulders. Low and urgent, too soft for anyone else to hear, he went on, “Besides, what if…? Oh God, what if he’s right?”
The sense of nightmare had lifted from Cai for a while, during his wild gallop from Broc’s stronghold. Now it came down again, like a killing jar over an insect. Strength ran out of him. If Ben, the strongest and best of his friends here, had fallen under the spell of this lunatic… All the light and warmth in Cai’s world lay buried in the shallow mound beneath the hawthorn trees. He had briefly forgotten. “I don’t care,” he said dully. “I just want John and Cedric out of here. Will you help me or not?”
Ben hesitated. Peripherally Cai saw Aelfric smile, as if winning a finely calculated point. Then Oslaf, who had finished securing horse and chariot to a post, pushed through the crowd towards them. “Benedict,” he demanded breathlessly. “What’s wrong with you? We must help Cai.”
He took Ben’s hand. The gesture was potent—much more than brother to brother. Cai wanted to shield them, but Aelfric had seen it too. His gaze had focussed, knife-blade predatory, upon their joined hands.
Benedict shook himself and seemed to come out of a trance. “Yes. Sorry.” He lifted his head. “Forgive me, my lord abbot, but Caius is right.”
Aelfric let it go. He did so easily, as if he had found something better to pursue. “Go, then. I have said what I wish to for now. All those who need to, go with your physician. For now.”
Cai and Oslaf took charge of Cedric, who had stayed upright somehow, his eyes blank and lost. Benedict picked John up bodily and cradled him. Leading the way out of the church, Cai saw his new abbot’s thin lips working, moving as if in prayer. Abominations, Cai lip-read, and averted his gaze so as not to know any more. Aelfric was watching Oslaf and Ben like a hawk. Abominations. A few of the monks who had suffered no injury during the raid did their best to creep out with the others, but Aelfric’s retinue, starved-looking men like himself, moved to block their path.
Aelfric spread his arms. “I will purify this place of all abomination,” he declaimed aloud, his voice a crow’s caw on the wind. “I will rebuild it in sanctity. You who remain here—never mind your goats and your laundry. Dedicate daylight today to gathering these fallen stones. Your church must be built out of rock, like Peter’s of Rome.”
Cai stopped dead. Oslaf had started up the stairs to the infirmary with Cedric. He shielded his eyes from the sun. “Don’t be a fool, Aelfric,” he said. His anger had gone. To himself he sounded reasonable. He had to stop this stranger in such a fundamental mistake. “The Vikings knock down churches wherever they raid. I don’t think they care what we worship, or who, but the sight of our churches provokes them. We build in willow and thatch so it won’t matter so much—so we can put them back up again.”
“Blasphemy!” Aelfric swung a finger at Cai, who thought he would soon become very tired of that gesture. And that word. “Blasphemy, to say the burning of a church matters not! A church built out of faith and sacred stone can never fall. We will build it. You will help us the moment your duties are done.”
Cai shrugged and turned away. He didn’t know what battle he was facing here, if there was a battle at all. Benedict and all the Fara brethren had been devoted to Theo. A stranger marching into Theo’s monastic realm, threatening to desecrate his corpse… Cai would have expected to find Aelfric and his men in a heap at the foot of the cliff, hurled there by Benedict’s great hands. How had the crow taken charge? If Cai could bring himself to care, he’d have to find out, discover the nature of his power. And
“Caius!”
“What?” Cai swung round to face Ben. “Why is anyone listening to this man?”
“Because he’s our abbot,” Ben replied flatly. Cai opened his mouth, but Ben took his shoulders. Low and urgent, too soft for anyone else to hear, he went on, “Besides, what if…? Oh God, what if he’s right?”
The sense of nightmare had lifted from Cai for a while, during his wild gallop from Broc’s stronghold. Now it came down again, like a killing jar over an insect. Strength ran out of him. If Ben, the strongest and best of his friends here, had fallen under the spell of this lunatic… All the light and warmth in Cai’s world lay buried in the shallow mound beneath the hawthorn trees. He had briefly forgotten. “I don’t care,” he said dully. “I just want John and Cedric out of here. Will you help me or not?”
Ben hesitated. Peripherally Cai saw Aelfric smile, as if winning a finely calculated point. Then Oslaf, who had finished securing horse and chariot to a post, pushed through the crowd towards them. “Benedict,” he demanded breathlessly. “What’s wrong with you? We must help Cai.”
He took Ben’s hand. The gesture was potent—much more than brother to brother. Cai wanted to shield them, but Aelfric had seen it too. His gaze had focussed, knife-blade predatory, upon their joined hands.
Benedict shook himself and seemed to come out of a trance. “Yes. Sorry.” He lifted his head. “Forgive me, my lord abbot, but Caius is right.”
Aelfric let it go. He did so easily, as if he had found something better to pursue. “Go, then. I have said what I wish to for now. All those who need to, go with your physician. For now.”
Cai and Oslaf took charge of Cedric, who had stayed upright somehow, his eyes blank and lost. Benedict picked John up bodily and cradled him. Leading the way out of the church, Cai saw his new abbot’s thin lips working, moving as if in prayer. Abominations, Cai lip-read, and averted his gaze so as not to know any more. Aelfric was watching Oslaf and Ben like a hawk. Abominations. A few of the monks who had suffered no injury during the raid did their best to creep out with the others, but Aelfric’s retinue, starved-looking men like himself, moved to block their path.
Aelfric spread his arms. “I will purify this place of all abomination,” he declaimed aloud, his voice a crow’s caw on the wind. “I will rebuild it in sanctity. You who remain here—never mind your goats and your laundry. Dedicate daylight today to gathering these fallen stones. Your church must be built out of rock, like Peter’s of Rome.”
Cai stopped dead. Oslaf had started up the stairs to the infirmary with Cedric. He shielded his eyes from the sun. “Don’t be a fool, Aelfric,” he said. His anger had gone. To himself he sounded reasonable. He had to stop this stranger in such a fundamental mistake. “The Vikings knock down churches wherever they raid. I don’t think they care what we worship, or who, but the sight of our churches provokes them. We build in willow and thatch so it won’t matter so much—so we can put them back up again.”
“Blasphemy!” Aelfric swung a finger at Cai, who thought he would soon become very tired of that gesture. And that word. “Blasphemy, to say the burning of a church matters not! A church built out of faith and sacred stone can never fall. We will build it. You will help us the moment your duties are done.”
Cai shrugged and turned away. He didn’t know what battle he was facing here, if there was a battle at all. Benedict and all the Fara brethren had been devoted to Theo. A stranger marching into Theo’s monastic realm, threatening to desecrate his corpse… Cai would have expected to find Aelfric and his men in a heap at the foot of the cliff, hurled there by Benedict’s great hands. How had the crow taken charge? If Cai could bring himself to care, he’d have to find out, discover the nature of his power. And
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