The monk, I thought, and that sound stirred enough within me to lift my legs and start pushing through the chest-high water. I did not move quickly, but it took only seconds to leave my well of light and pass into utter darkness.
Was this how Jonah felt in the belly of the whale? I struck out blindly and felt a low wave ripple away from my chest, then slap against the surrounding forest of columns. One by one my senses deserted me: first sight; then sound, as the rushing echoes overrode each other in my ears; then, as the water numbed my soul, touch. I scraped against pillars and their pedestals and barely noticed, though the rough stone tore my shrivelled skin. Once my hand brushed something cold and clammy, and I started with a shout, but it was only a fish carried deep under the city by the aqueduct. I wondered if I had any more chance of escape than he.
Too late, I realised the futility of my ambition. I would not find the monk down here. Even with a score of men and fires there would have been endless columns for him to duck behind; alone, and in the dark, it was hopeless. Now my only thought was to escape, to be out of these depths and back in the light. I spun around, feeling the water swirling about my legs, and searched desperately for that beacon of daylight where I had entered.
‘Deliverance is of the Lord,’ I mumbled through shivering teeth. ‘Deliverance is of the Lord. Out of the depths have I called thee, Lord; hear my prayer.’
I thought I could see a smear of pale light somewhere to my left, surprisingly closer than I had expected. Had I stumbled around in a circle?
‘Christ have mercy. Christ have mercy. Christ have mercy.’
I repeated my prayers with a ferocity I had not felt since my days as a novice, and with each ‘Christ’ I forced another step forward. Soon the saviour’s name was little more than a whisper, a puff of air hissed through frozen teeth, but still it drove me on. The light was near now, cold and silent and beautiful, and I stumbled towards it with new hope. I could see the rungs of the ladder, shining like steel where the daylight met them; I could see the small circle in the roof where the world awaited. And there, far beneath it, I could see a dark figure hauling himself out of the water. His wet robe clung close about him so that he took the form of an eel or a serpent, the wet fabric gleaming like scales; the limbs which he stretched upwards seemed to be webbed into his body. I gave a faint, gurgling cry, and plunged forward, splashing and flailing to reach him before he escaped.
Even with the bewildering echo he must have heard me come, for I saw his head swivel round, and then his arms jerk up in frantic motion. I flung out a hand and felt it close around his foot; it pulled free of the rung as I fell back, but I did not let go. With a shriek and a howl the monk lost his grip, and there was nothing I could do to move as he came crashing down on me. His falling weight pressed me under and I sank, convulsing as my lungs drew in great gulps of icy water. I tried to stab him with my knife but my hand was empty: in the confusion I must have dropped it and never noticed.
And that was my last hope gone, for my enemy had found his footing now and was holding me under, waiting for the water to drown the life out of me. I did not have the strength to resist, and a few feeble kicks did nothing to dislodge him. I had been a thoughtless fool to think I could trap him in this cavern, and now I would pay the price of pride.
Calm descended. I ceased my struggle, and he must have been almost as drained as I, for he seemed content to hold me there and let nature take its course, without advancing the moment by further violence. I was suspended in the void; the waters closed in over me and the deep surrounded me; I could imagine that the fingers on my throat were nothing more than drifting weed. There are men I have spoken with, often after a battle, who claimed that in the moment of certain death they were transported to some earlier time in their lives, but I felt none of that: only a dull warmth creeping through my veins, a serenity in the knowledge that my struggle was gone, and soon I would be with angels. And Maria, my wife.
But not yet. Suddenly the hands which held me down drifted away. I was rising through the water, and could feel a stinging on the crown of my head where it was exposed to the biting air above. Then it was on my shoulders, my back. My body drifted and my foot touched ground; I pushed up, and gasped as my head broke free. No-one pressed it back. I gagged and choked, coughing gallons of liquid out of my lungs and trying to overcome the wracking pain which had exploded in my head. Somewhere, I thought, I heard someone call my name.
‘Demetrios. Demetrios.’
I opened my stinging eyes. It was not Maria, still less the angels. It was — against all hope and reason — Sigurd.
He lifted me out of that cave and slung me over his shoulder, pumping ever more water out of me as his armour rose and fell against my stomach. Dazed and bedraggled, I saw the snow-bound city turned on its head. He carried me tirelessly, never stopping, up stairs and twisting passages, across great roads, down narrow lanes and through stout gates, until I was brought within a room and laid in a bed. I shut my eyes, and the soft voices over me did nothing to spur my consciousness. Instead, I fell into a profound sleep.
I might have slept forever, but it was still light when I woke. My first awareness was that I was warm. Beautifully warm, beatifically warm, warm like a saint in God’s eternal gaze. A warm mattress was underneath me, warm blankets wrapped around me, and from somewhere behind the walls a bell was ringing.
I rolled over, opening my eyes further. I recognised this room, with its whitewashed walls and small windows: it was the hospital at the monastery of Saint Andrew, and by a chest a little distance away stood Anna.
She was not warm, not even remotely; she was entirely naked. She was brushing her hair, and the motion of the arm behind her head lifted her bare breasts like some antique statue. Her small nipples were puckered tight and hard, while by her hips the olive skin of her stomach rose gently as she breathed. Such was her lack of modesty that she did not even try to hide the dark shadow between her thighs.
For a moment I stared like some virgin on his wedding night; then, overcome with guilt, I belatedly pressed my blushing face into the pillow.
Anna laughed; a soft, forgiving laugh.
‘Come, Demetrios,’ she mocked me. ‘You were married, and raised two daughters to womanhood. Surely you must have uncovered these mysteries before. Am I so shameful?’
‘Shameless, I think.’ My humour returned a little, and I risked looking back. I was just in time to see her arms wriggling through the sleeves of a woollen camisia, which tumbled down over her body to mask its temptations. I felt an ache of regret that I had not looked longer, but dismissed the thought at once.
‘Do you always undress before strange men in the middle of the day?’ I watched her pull on her green dress and fasten the silken cord around it.
‘Only when they appear at my door half-frozen and close to death. I had to force some heat into you, so I lay beside you in the bed until you stopped shivering. You served in the legions — surely when you campaigned in the mountains you huddled together with your comrades at night?’
‘If we did, we kept our clothes on.’ I had endured much that day; it seemed almost too much to believe that I had risked mortal sin lying with Anna and not felt a moment of it.
Again I drove back my thoughts from the places they strayed. ‘And how did I come to be here?’
‘Sigurd brought you. He said he found you almost drowned in a cistern.’
‘Is he here now?’ Had he watched while Anna undressed and shared my bed?
‘He had important things to do. He said he would return, and try to bring some fresh clothes.’
Only now did I realise that under the blankets, I too was wholly naked. I pulled the covers closer.
Anna tied the scarf over her head and crossed to the door. ‘I must go. I have other patients to see. I will send an apprentice with some soup, and try to visit soon.’
‘Will you share beds with all your wards?’ I raised myself on one elbow.
The door closed without answer.
Not long afterwards, Sigurd came. His face was flushed despite the cold, but he waited while I dressed with the tunic, leggings, boots and cloak he had brought. He must have gone to my house, or sent someone there, for they were my own. Which was as well, for his tunic would have reached almost to my feet.
‘That’s the second time I’ve saved you from a battle you were foolish to enter,’ he said pointedly. ‘There may not be a third.’
‘I know.’ I was honest in my gratitude. ‘But how did you find me? And what of the monk?’
‘Your elder daughter found me with Aelric. I met him in the street; he had left his station to go and buy food.’ I did not envy Aelric explaining that to his captain. ‘We followed your tracks through the snow as far as the
