place your accent to Antioch – which, like all of Syria, has been in Saracen hands since before you were born. I’ll agree that it’s rude of one refugee to ask another too much about the past. But since you’ve raised the matter of my last public service to the Empire, I might wonder just how much of your fighting was done in the Imperial Service.’ I sat down. I scratched again. This time, I tried not to look at my fingernails.
‘Perhaps My Lord is right,’ he said, still in Greek, with another of his bows. ‘Perhaps the past is best not revisited.’
I nodded and pushed my empty cup towards him. He muttered something about my years, and I scowled at him. After a momentary hesitation, he poured out the second refill. He’d dropped the matter, and I’d not take it up again. I had little doubt, though, that Joseph had fought for the Saracens before taking holy orders. But where was the shame in that? Syria had been out of our hands so long, it could no longer be considered a shame for Christians to fight for its new rulers – even if it was to spread the Desert Faith. And I really was too old and out of things to care. It was all too far away – thousands of miles from Jarrow. Even with the Emperor’s agents snapping at my heels, it had taken me months to get across the wild desolation that was the fate of what had been the Western Provinces. So what if Joseph had been on the other side in my last stroke of Imperial policy? I was glad to have him here and now. But for him, I’d be all alone with these wretched women – young and old – of the male sex.
‘I’m going to my cell,’ I said, heaving myself to my feet. I sat down again. ‘No. Before I go, I want you to bear in mind the threat I made to Cuthbert. If he goes near that gate again, I look to you to see that he doesn’t undo it. And’ – I dropped my voice, although we were speaking in Greek – ‘I want you to keep an eye on young Edward.’ I noticed the slight questioning look. ‘He’s the pretty one with big hands.’ I paused again. ‘You kicked him out of mathematics for idleness.’ Joseph nodded. I went on: ‘Well, he may not be up to learning any of the languages I can teach. But he’s good enough in whatever it is those savages speak. I’d like you to keep an eye on him as well.
‘Now, it really is time for bed,’ I ended, getting up once more. ‘Do have a jug of that stuff sent in to me. I have work to do that always goes better with a slight lubrication.’ I giggled tipsily again, wondering when I’d last held a pen without some mood-altering substance to ease its passing across whatever surface was available. I might have said something else. But as I went back to the chair to gather up my things, I heard Benedict behind me.
‘Brother Aelric,’ came the shaking voice in Latin, ‘something more is happening out there, and none of us can imagine what it could be.’
Chapter 3
With the fading of day, the rain had ceased, and the unbroken grey of the sky had somehow been replaced by a moon that shone from a sky of pure blackness. There was still a mist out there, but it had contracted itself to a dense whiteness that lingered, in the cold, breezeless night, perhaps nine feet above the ground. Here and there, it was broken by the tops of the rather scrubby trees that grew about the monastery. As far as my eyes could see, it was like looking over a field of ethereal snow. I listened again for the neighing that came from somewhere within that whiteness.
‘If they did come ashore at Yellow Tooth Creek,’ I said, cutting through the quiet babble of prayers, ‘it must have been in one of those little boats they have with a shallow draught. Getting horses across the northern ocean in one of those things doesn’t seem likely to me. Fitting in even the dozen men we’ve seen would be a tight squeeze. It’s fair to say, then, that we have a fresh arrival.’ I fell silent and looked down again over the smooth whiteness that concealed whatever might be happening outside the monastery.
‘Could it be His Majesty?’ one of the older monks quavered. ‘Could it be that God in His infinite mercy has spared us for continued labours in the world?’
‘Could be,’ I said, without turning. ‘You’re all certain you heard a clash of weapons earlier, and then a scream?’
Someone beside me nodded eagerly in the gloom.
‘Well, perhaps Aldfrith has sent over a warning for these people to leave now or face the consequences. Or it might be something else.’ I fell silent and listened. Whatever had happened earlier, it now sounded less like a battle down there than a conference. That didn’t rule out some intervention by the secular authority. Just as likely, though, the northerners had got lucky with their thieving, and there had been a falling-out over the horse.
‘We wait until morning,’ I said firmly to no one in particular. ‘Until we can know what’s happening down there, I don’t see the point of further discussion.’
More to the point, I was in need of a piss. All that drink had gone in and done its job. Now, I could almost feel it trickling into my bladder like water through a rain pipe. I set trembling, frozen hands on the ladder and prepared to heave myself into another descent. After all this clambering up and down, I could feel a nosebleed coming on. As Joseph reached down to make sure my feet were properly on the rungs, I heard the faint braying of ‘ Deus uult! Deus uult ’ – ‘God wills it! God wills it!’ Far below, Cuthbert was back in full cry.
‘The moment of deliverance is at hand!’ I could just make out. ‘As the Lord smote the host of Sennacherib, so has He now smitten the northern devils who dared infest this house of peace. Let us give thanks to God for the preservation of our lives. Let us gather up the rich spoils that lie abandoned beyond these gates, and dedicate them to the Lord…’
‘Brother Cuthbert seems to have much amended his tune,’ Joseph observed drily.
‘Not really,’ I sighed, looking up at his moonlit face. ‘It’s all any excuse to open that fucking gate. Do see to him when you come down. I’d like some peace tonight.’
I nearly trod on Wilfred as I stumbled off the last rungs of the ladder. ‘Why aren’t you asleep?’ I asked. ‘It’s been dark some while.’
The boy stood back from me and bowed. ‘Is it true, Master, that the northerners are preparing to leave?’
I sniffed impatiently, then dabbed at my nose. I opened my mouth to speak, but caught another gust of ‘ Deus uult!’ from the great hall.
‘What’s that mark on your face?’ I said eventually.
Wilfred stepped out of the pool of lamplight, and put up a hand to cover the bruise.
I heard a noise overhead, and looked up to see Joseph’s little Syrian feet on the upper rungs of the ladder. I thought of the increasingly imperious itching in my bladder. I set it aside. Given this opportunity, it could wait for the moment. I took the boy by his arm. I led him along the corridor to a point just outside my cell where there was a little recess in the wall with a wooden bench set into it. I sat down and carefully stretched my legs. Over on my left, I could hear people grunting and scraping away beyond the side gate. The table now jammed tight between it and the wall was as good as any bars. No one would get through that – not, at least, without a fire, and that wouldn’t do much with all the rain that had been soaking into the wood. I pressed my hands into my armpits and waited for another of my shivering attacks to pass. Wilfred was wearing the new outer robe I’d demanded for him. Even so, his face looked pinched. If the light had been better, I might have seen the bluish tinge that had begun to frighten me. I wondered if the brazier in my cell had been refilled. I thought of going in to see. But the fit was passing, and moving was too much trouble.
‘I did fall this time, Master,’ Wilfred said defensively. ‘It was the stairs into the pantry. I was fetching scraps to feed the people from the village, and…’ He trailed off.
There was no point trying to corner him. It was obvious what had happened. But no one likes a grass, and Wilfred wouldn’t turn grass on the other boys. Bede usually looked after him. But Bede was off with the King; we’d needed one of the boys to show off his Latin, and Bede was easily the best candidate. Not for the first time in these few days, I wished I’d also recommended Wilfred.
‘How old are you?’ I asked with a slight change of subject.
‘I shall be fourteen in March,’ he said.
I sniffed. Of course, he was telling the truth now. But no one could have guessed it. The boy’s height didn’t say more than ten, and he might have disappeared altogether by turning sideways.
‘But, Master,’ he said again, ‘surely we shall not all soon be dead. Is it true the northerners will be gone by morning?’
‘Could be,’ I said, trying to sound non-committal. Then I leaned close to him and dropped my voice lower still.
