“I’m sorry to say, Brother, that there is not that much left to bury,” said Albert.
Brother Barnaby’s dark complexion paled and he murmured a prayer beneath his breath.
“Please relate your story, Albert,” said Father Jacob briskly. “I’d like to hear it before we enter the walls.”
“The night of the attack,” Albert began. “I was asleep-”
Father Jacob interrupted. “Everything in the proper order, please. A fortnight before the attack, you sent me a letter coded in magic saying you had found something of interest in the abbey. What was it?”
Albert was impatient. “That’s of little consequence in view of this tragedy, Father.”
“I will be the judge of that,” said Father Jacob mildly.
Albert paused to mop his forehead with his coat sleeve. The sun shone brightly. No clouds drifted in the sky, save the misty haze of the Breath on the horizon. The day was going to be a hot one.
“Guild members have long complained that they couldn’t get access to guild records, which had been stored in the abbey for safekeeping. That included the guild charter and bylaws, membership rolls and legal documents and such like. I proposed that we have the records brought back to the guildhall and have copies made.
“When I arrived at the abbey, I asked the nuns where the guild records were kept. They weren’t much help. Poor women. They lived in poverty. It was all they could do to keep body and soul together. When they weren’t praying, they were tending to their crops and their livestock. They told me the records were likely in the library, which was in the cathedral. Brother Paul had the key. He used the library as his office when he was visiting the abbey.”
“He was the nuns’ confessor and priest, but he would not reside at the abbey, of course,” said Father Jacob. “That would not be seemly.”
“He’s a strange one, is Brother Paul. He wouldn’t reside at the abbey, seemly or not. He’s a hermit, lives in the wilderness somewhere.”
“Where was he when the abbey was attacked?”
“He was in his dwelling, asleep. The attack happened long after he’d left for the night.”
Father Jacob nodded. “Well, for the moment, we can dispense with Brother Paul. What did you discover in the abbey library that you thought I would find interesting?”
Master Albert paused to look around, which Sir Ander thought an odd precaution, considering the fact that they, Brother Barnaby, and Brother Paul were likely the only in a hundred-mile radius.
“Brother Paul’s office consisted of little more than a stool and a desk where he did his writing. He paid scant attention to the books in the library. He has weak eyes and finds it difficult to read for long periods of time. He had no idea where the guild records were located. He told me I could ‘rummage around.’
“As it turns out there was no need to ‘rummage.’ The library is well-ordered, with church records in one place, theological texts in another, books on crafting in yet another and so on. I found the guild records easily enough, and I put them aside. Since no one minded my being there, I poked around some more and ended up in the section where there were books on crafting.”
Albert gave a rueful smile. “As you know, Father, I’ve always regretted that I was never able to study the art properly. My father didn’t hold with reading about magic in school. He taught me crafting as he had learned it from his father who had it from his father and so on. I’ve always been interested in finding out more on the subject and here I was, surrounded by books on crafting. I was like a kid in a bakery.
“I roved among the stacks and came across an entire section given to seafaring magic. The books were on the very top shelf. I had to fetch a ladder to reach them. I was taking out one of the books when I noticed a wooden chest on top of the bookcase. The chest was tucked well back from the edge, so it hadn’t been visible from below.
“The chest was heavy, covered with dirt and cobwebs. I managed to haul it down, though I nearly fell off the ladder in the process. I set it on the floor and dusted it off as best I could. The chest was magic-locked and cost me considerable effort to open it.
“Inside were five slim volumes, all bound in leather with no title on the covers. I opened the first one to a frontispiece, very elaborate art, which appeared to be have been drawn by the author, consisting of his name and title all done in fancy lettering. The name was: Cividae. The year was 721 GF (Grand Founding).”
“Interesting,” said Father Jacob.
“Why? Who was this Cividae?” asked Sir Ander.
“Prince-Abbot of this abbey during the war with the Pirate King and the subsequent descent into the Dark Time,” said Father Jacob. “The Abbey of Saint Agnes was then known as the Abbey of Saint Castigan-Brother Barnaby’s patron saint.”
Brother Barnaby smiled and shifted the writing desk he was carrying to a more comfortable position. They had rounded the north corner of the wall. The front gate faced south, so they had a considerable way to walk before they reached it.
“The reason you sent for me was something you found in the prince-abbot’s journals, or so I’m guessing,” said Father Jacob.
“Yes, Father. The journals were written in the old Church language, Rosaelig. I couldn’t read a lot of it. But one word kept appearing over and over-a name, as if this prince-abbot were writing about this person.”
“And this name was-”
“Dennis, Father.”
“Dennis!” Sir Ander exclaimed, taken aback. “You don’t mean… Saint Dennis?”
“Of course, he does,” said Father Jacob. His tone was cool, but his eyes gleamed with suppressed excitement. “We have long known that after Saint Dennis left his home in Travis, he traveled to Rosia. We always wondered where he went. It makes sense that he would have come here to this reclusive place to pursue his studies of magic in solitude.”
“I found another word I could read, Father. A word that wasn’t written in Rosaelig and was easy to spot, because the writer consistently underlined it. I was rocked back on my heels so to speak when I saw this word, Father. I went all over gooseflesh. Here.” Albert reached into his coat and brought out a small piece of paper. “I was so struck by it that I used my magic to lift the word off the paper and set it down on another sheet. I dared not write it in the letter.”
He opened the paper and held it out. Sir Ander and Father Jacob and Brother Barnaby gathered around, gazing down at the word that was written in a neat and precise hand and, as Albert had said, had been underlined.
Contramagic
Sir Ander looked at the word, then looked at Father Jacob. The knight’s expression was dark. Brother Barnaby looked at the word and involuntarily moved back a step and raised his hand to ward off evil.
“ ‘Contramagic.’ ” Father Jacob read the word in a murmur, scarcely heard. “Yes, it was wise you did not write this down, Master Albert. You could be tried for heresy.”
He drew in a deep breath, then let it slowly sigh out. “I must see this journal, Albert.”
“I wish you could, Father,” said Albert in an unhappy tone. “At the moment that’s not possible. The journal disappeared.”
“What do you mean ‘disappeared?’ ” Father Jacob asked sharply. “Was it lost in the attack? Destroyed?”
“No, Father. The journal wasn’t in the abbey when it was attacked. The theft occurred long before the attack, the day after I sent the letter to you. I was alarmed by what I had found. If anyone knew I was reading about such forbidden knowledge I would be arrested. I removed the journal from the library to my yacht. I asked permission of the abbess first, of course. I told her and I told Brother Paul that I was interested in the abbey’s history, about Saint Dennis and the fact that he’d spent time here…”
Father Jacob frowned and shook his head. “That was a mistake, Albert.”
“I did not tell anyone about this… word, Father!” Albert looked haggard. “I’ve been terrified to even think it, much less speak it!”
“You mentioned nothing about contramagic,” Father Jacob said, thoughtful. “Only Saint Dennis. What did the abbess say?”
“She had worries enough of her own and wasn’t the least bit interested in Saint Dennis. She readily gave me permission to study the journal, provided that I returned the volume when I was finished.”
“Brother Paul?”
