Sandulf merely raised a brow at the guard’s tone. Vanora slunk next to Sandulf and gave a low growl. Ceanna concentrated on the cobblestones and tried to keep her temper in check.
The last time her aunt had encountered Vanora, it had not gone well. Perhaps she’d been optimistic in bringing her dog with her, but there was no way she would have left her behind.
‘If my aunt objects to Vanora, will you...?’ she said in a low voice to Sandulf.
‘Stop borrowing trouble,’ he replied. ‘All will be well. I have promised to see you to safety and I will.’
‘To Nrurim, that is what we agreed.’ She hated that her voice caught on the final word.
‘Until you reached safety is what I agreed.’
‘Am I not safe here?’
‘We shall see, my lady. We shall see.’
When they arrived at the bustling monastery, a young friar hurried towards them. ‘Lady Ceanna? Is that you? You probably don’t remember me—Brother Malcolm? I had the honour of giving you a tour of the scriptorium the last time you were here. We’ve been so worried.’
Ceanna froze. Why should they be worried about her? ‘Were you expecting me?’
Brother Malcolm drew himself up like a startled hen. ‘A message reached us two days ago that you’d been kidnapped. Your aunt feared you’d become one of the disappeared, taken by raiders from the North because of your headstrong behaviour.’
Ceanna ignored Sandulf’s swift exclamation. After they had escaped Urist and the false ambush, Sandulf had predicted something like this. Her easy assurance that her stepmother would never dare contact her aunt because she would oppose the proposed marriage tasted like ash in her mouth.
‘The messenger was mistaken.’ Ceanna tried for a reassuring laugh. Behind the friar, various nuns stopped tilling the soil and stared open-mouthed at her. When she looked back, they rapidly dropped their gaze and started labouring with great intensity. The austerity about this place pressed down on her soul. But it was just nerves. This place was home now, not Dun Olliagh. But already her soul longed for the sound of the sea and the wind which pervaded every part of Dun Ollaigh, the way the sunlight danced on the waves of the harbour in the early morning and the coolness of the stones against her feet—things she’d never encounter again. ‘Very much mistaken.’
‘Was he?’ Brother Malcolm queried.
‘You can see I’m perfectly well. Ever since I left Dun Ollaigh, I’ve been travelling towards here of my own free will. I haven’t taken a detour or escaped from some botched kidnapping. And my reason for travel remains serious.’
Brother Malcolm tugged at the neck of his robe. ‘And your companion? He looks fierce with that dog of his.’
‘The dog is mine.’
‘Mother Abbe is not fond of strange dogs, but I suppose since it is yours... I take it your visit will not be long in light of these rumours?’ Brother Malcolm held his robes away from Vanora’s inquisitive nose.
Ceanna pressed her lips together. Her aunt’s dog smelt and tended to be sick on the rushes after her aunt fed it too many sweetmeats from the table. Blurting out her new vocation to Brother Malcolm would not be a good idea. She would wait until she saw her aunt.
Brother Malcolm lowered his voice. ‘Has your companion come to raid or to pray?’
‘He’s hardly a raider! Why would he bring me here and protect me, if he intended kidnapping me and selling me across the seas?’
Brother Malcolm tucked his hands into the sleeves of his robe. ‘Tales can get tangled in the telling. That much is true. You’re here now. Praise all the angels and saints in heaven.’
‘Lady Ceanna intends to stay,’ Sandulf said.
‘You are going to remain here!’
Ceanna glared at Sandulf. ‘I wish to discuss this with my aunt first. Her views are paramount.’
‘Mother Abbe. Good idea.’ Brother Malcolm started to scurry away. ‘I see. I wasn’t told about that. I thought you would return to your home immediately, to the safety of your family, if you actually arrived here.’
Return. Ceanna’s heart sank. Someone had indeed been here, sowing the seeds of her destruction. Immediately the difficulty of her task increased. What was worse, this place held little appeal. She kept thinking about the reasons why she had detested it the last time she had visited.
‘Allow me to see my aunt,’ Ceanna called after him. ‘She will want to see my miraculous arrival for herself. See that her prayers were answered.’
The friar’s shoulders twitched. ‘You had best wait in the guests’ antechamber. It would be more seemly.’ He looked Sandulf up and down. ‘You and your companion do understand that singular honour?’
She knew if she caught Sandulf’s eye, she’d dissolve into highly inappropriate laughter or, worse, frustrated screaming. She covered her mouth and regained control of her emotions before she threw away any lingering chance of being a holy maid. ‘Of course, Brother, of course we do.’
‘A heathen here, at St Fillans,’ Brother Malcolm muttered. ‘I know it was foretold, but will wonders never cease. I never believed Brother Mattios’s predictions before, but I must now. I shall let him know when he returns. I’ve become a true believer.’
‘Well?’ Sandulf asked. ‘Will you do as Lady Ceanna requests or will you explain to her aunt why you have prolonged her agony, instead blathering on about predictions from a missing monk?’
The colour drained from Brother Malcolm’s face. ‘I didn’t realise men from the North could speak our language so well. And the Mother Abbess’s great confidant, Brother Matthios, is far above the average monk. He is a learned man from St Benedict Biscop’s Abbey in Jarrow where St Bede wrote his famous histories.’
‘It’s amazing what people, even if they are heathen, can learn, isn’t it?’ Sandulf retorted in perfect Pictish.
‘Wait in there, both of you...and that creature.’ Brother Malcolm ushered them into a small antechamber
