As the sun was directly overhead, there was not so much as a shadow wherein we might find refuge. So, we sat with our eyes squinted tight against the blinding light, sweating, our pallid, sun-starved skins slowly turning fiery red.
'I am sorry,' Dugal apologized after awhile. 'I have brought this misery upon us. If I had not seized the guard, we would not be here now.'
'That may be so,' I answered. 'But if you had not pulled the madman off me I might have been killed. At the very least, we would never have found one another.'
'True,' he allowed. 'That is very true.'
'What will they do with us, do you think?' I wondered.
'God knows,' replied Dugal. 'For myself, I do not care what happens. It is the Red Martyrdom for me, one way or another.' He paused, dismissing the thought from his mind. 'Ah, well, we are in God's hands, Aidan. He will see us right whatever ill befalls us.'
At his words, anger welled up inside me. But as I did not care to contradict him, I said, 'Tell me, Dugal, how did you come to be here? Tell me everything; I want to hear it all.'
'I wish there was more to tell. In truth, we had an easy time of it-for the most part, that is.' He opened one eye to a narrow squint and regarded me. 'But you, Aidan, you must have tales worth hearing. Tell me how you have fared.'
'I will, and gladly, but after you, brother. Now then, after the Sea Wolves attacked the village and I was carried off-what happened?'
Casting his mind back, he began to tell me about all that had taken place since I had last seen him. He described the night raid and its aftermath, saying, 'We lost two only: Brocmal and Faolan were killed; Faolan died outright, and Brocmal followed a day or so later. We buried them at Nantes and continued on, taking three brothers from the abbey to complete our number. Forgive us, Aidan, we reckoned they had taken you for a slave.'
'Truly, that is what they did.'
'I wanted to go and search for you, but Bishop Cadoc said you were in God's hands now and that we would never find you again.'
'Cadoc! Is he still alive? Where is he?'
'He is alive, yes, and he is here,' Dugal told me. 'We are all here-leastwise, those of us left.'
Although I dreaded the answer, I had to know. 'How many-how many are here?'
'Four only,' came the reply. 'Cadoc, Brynach, Ddewi, and myself.'
'And the rest?'
'Dead…all of them dead.'
My heart sank within me as the faces of my brother monks passed once more before my inward eyes. I saw them again as I had seen them in life, each smiling and laughing, calling to one another greetings of fellowship and good will. I saw them and regretted the loss of their lives. They were gone: Mael, Fintan, Clynnog, Brocmal, Connal, Faolan, Ciaran, Gwilym-all of them gone.
'A friend in Constantinople told me that ten of you had been there.'
'Aye, we were,' confirmed Dugal gloomily. 'Would that we had stayed there; the monks were good to us, and we were learning many things from them-and teaching them as well.'
'What happened?'
'I do not know the whole of it,' he answered. 'Bishop Cadoc made application to see the emperor-to present him with the book, and to put forth an appeal regarding some other concerns which the Britons had prepared. I cannot say what these concerns might be, but Brynach knows.'
'Did you see the emperor?'
'No,' he shook his head slowly, 'we never did. Cadoc and Brynach were told by palace officials that our request would take time to be recognized. We were welcome to stay with the monks at Christ Pantocrater, so we settled in to wait. After a time, a man of the court came to see Cadoc. He asked to see the gifts we had brought, and was most helpful. The bishop showed him the book and lamented the loss of the silver cumtach. This man said that our appeal would be more favourably looked upon if the gift were restored. He said he would try to help us replace it.'
'And did he?' I wondered, scenting the unmistakeable whiff of treachery.
'Indeed,' Dugal affirmed readily and without rancour. 'He arranged for us to go to Trebizond where, it was said, the finest silversmiths in the empire would help us make a new cover for the blessed book.'
'Who was to help you in Trebizond?' I asked, growing excited. 'His name-what was his name?'
'I do not think I ever heard it,' Dugal replied with a shrug. 'He was something called a magis…' He paused, struggling for the word.
'Magister?' I suggested. 'Magister Sergius?'
'The very man!' cried Dugal. The memory of unhappy events intruded and he concluded solemnly, 'We came in sight of Trebizond, but never reached the city. Sarazen pirates attacked our ship just off the coast. Those of us who were not killed outright, were brought here.' He looked at me and a smattering of his former spirit returned. 'I never thought to see you here, Dana. Truly, it is a wonder.'
'And the other man, the one who arranged for your journey-his name, was it Nikos?'
'Aye,' confirmed Dugal, in a tone of amazement. 'How is it that you know this?'
'It is less a wonder than you think, Dugal,' I replied bitterly. 'The same men were helping us, as well. I see now that they were helping themselves from the beginning.'
'Are you saying they betrayed us?' Dugal's incredulity was genuine. The possibility had never occurred to him. 'You are certainly wrong, Aidan. I cannot think why anyone would wish to betray a handful of poor monks.'
'Nor can I, Dugal.' I agreed, and told about how we had been attacked by men lying in wait for us on the road. 'It was Nikos who led us there, and only Nikos escaped. Indeed, he fled before the slaughter began.'
The big monk shook his head in bewildered resignation. 'If I had known the book would be the death of so many, I would have thrown it in the sea with my own two hands. And to think I have protected it through all things…'
It took a moment for Dugal's meaning to come clear. 'But does it yet survive?'
'That it does,' confirmed Dugal, glancing darkly towards Gunnar. 'Despite its shameful treatment, and no thanks to some.'
'Are you certain? You know this to be true?'
'Yes, the book endures. Cadoc keeps it; he has it hidden away.'
'You cannot mean that it is here!'
'Indeed, I mean that very thing.'
'Here?' I persisted. 'In this hell hole?'
'Where else should it be?' he asked. 'Never fear, the book is safe and will remain so. No one knows we have it.'
Just then, Gunnar groaned and woke up. He struggled upright. 'Heya!' he shouted, fighting against the chains.
'Peace,' I soothed. 'Be still. They are gone for the while. Rest yourself.'
He looked around, blinking his eyes, taking in our predicament. He saw Dugal, frowned, and slumped back against the rock, but said nothing.
Dugal's eyes narrowed. 'How is it that you can speak to this-' he hesitated, 'this murdering barbarian?'
'Hear me, Dugal,' I declared seriously. 'Gunnar is my friend. He has saved my life not once or twice only, but many times-often to his own hurt. He is a barbarian, true, but he is also a believer and that must be accounted to his favour. I trust him as I trust you.'
Dugal frowned and looked away. 'No doubt you have a different view of things,' he conceded. He was silent for a moment; I saw his lips moving, and after a moment he said, 'I still would know how you came to be here, brother.'
'It is a long and tedious story, Dugal,' I said, despair yawning before me like a chasm black and deep. 'Are you certain you want to hear it?'
'And does the sun still rise in the sky?' he said. 'Come, brother, we are together now, but who knows how this day will end?'
