His next words must have been in the language of the new religion. Latin, she’d been told, but she still understood none of it. The words remained harsh and guttural to her ears, not flowing and liquid like her own language. The Abbot’s resonant voice, pleasant though it sounded, did not make the words softer or easier on her ears. Instead, they prodded and poked into her mind, pushing against her attention. She tried to think of other things, but they intruded upon her very thoughts, crowding everything else away.
He switched to her own language, and she almost wished he hadn’t. His words now praised his own God to the exclusion of all others, framing anyone not Christian as evil, full of nasty desire to subvert the “flock” of this new religion.
Clíodhna reconsidered her desire to stay. The implication that all other beliefs had no validity bothered her, and she didn’t want to stay to listen to more vitriol. Would she insult this new leader if she left during his sermon? It might be more polite to remain, and it wouldn’t be wise to upset a community leader. Still, she seethed at the necessity.
He switched back to the Latin, more of a chant than a speech. Her head pounded in time to the foreign syllables.
When the liturgy ended, he spoke in their own language again.
“Greetings be upon you. I am Abbot Pátraic, newly arrived from Rome, the eternal city, and the Holy See. Please welcome me into your community as you have welcomed my brethren before me.
“I bring not only news from Rome, but also blessed tidings from our Emperor Valentinian the third, of the baptism into our blessed Lord’s faith of your King Eógan mac Néill in the north, and of the latest pronouncements upon our faith by the newly inaugurated Pope Leo.
“In the meantime, I shall work to strengthen the habits and rituals within this abbey and community, that it may better serve our Lord God. Now, please, we offer our Lovefeast outside for your sustenance. Join us.”
Thankful the speech had finished, Clíodhna bolted out the door. Monks had set up their trestle tables outside and already half laid the table, but she didn’t feel hungry. Her pounding head also upset her stomach, and she needed to be away from people. Now that the sermon had ended, she no longer feared insulting anyone. Her absence would not be noticed amongst so many villagers.
Clíodhna escaped to the gardens, taking deep breaths with the budding flowers and the few bees who braved the chilly early spring sunlight. Several breaths later, and she drew upon the power of the earth and the growing things. The sun played hiding games amongst the clouds, but she wished it would shine strong upon her. She had grown chilled and would welcome the sunlight.
The clouds, as if listening to her plea, parted to reveal the morning sun. It warmed her face as she closed her eyes.
As the bright sunlight suffused her skin and body with life-giving heat and the earth surrendered its power to her muscles, she regained her strength, just as Adhna had been showing her. With a satisfied sigh, she rose and turned to leave the monk’s garden.
The new Abbot stood right in front of her. His chin held high in blatant disapproval and his scowl deepening. “What do you seek here, woman?”
Still suffused with the earth’s power, she met his gaze. “I meant no harm. I come here often, to be at peace among the growing things. Will this no longer be allowed?”
He gazed at her for a few moments, as if taking her measure. His eyes took in her stance, her clothing, and probably assessed her status within the community. “This is the abbey’s garden, and if you should wish to visit, arrangements can be made. In the future, I prefer that you enter escorted.”
Clíodhna sidestepped him to escape his piercing regard. Once out of sight, she let out a deep breath. She daren’t mention Odhrán frequently asked her into the garden. That might be violating one of his new rules, and she didn’t want to get her friend in trouble. The gossip Ita mentioned would be bad enough.
Clíodhna searched for her children, but spied Donn out in the carpentry yard already, and Aileran in the nursery. Etromma probably made it to her own lessons as well. Free from her duty, she scanned the abbey for Odhrán, but couldn’t find him. He likely had other duties than to spend wasteful time with her today. With a deep sigh, she left the village.
Never in her life had Clíodhna felt so nervous. Not when her husband asked her father to marry her, not even the first night of her wedding. However, she’d made her decision and today she needed to implement it. She meant to ask Adhna to be her lover today.
The entire walk back to her home, she’d rehearsed how she would broach the subject. She’d mention the spring thaw or point out the daffodils bursting through the thin layer of ice. Perhaps she would speak of the budding trees and mention how sacred life once again pushed through to the world of men. She’d then ask him if he wanted to be part of that process with her. The responses she imagined varied from excited delight to horrified rejection.
As she approached the viewing rock, Adhna sat cross-legged in her usual spot. He turned, his face grim. “I’m afraid I must leave you for a little while, my dear student. I’ve been called back to Faerie for now.”
Her heart dropped. The dismay must have shown in her expression. He stood and took both her hands, his skin soft against hers. “Worry not, my dear Clíodhna. I will return, hopefully soon.
