Warinar had disappeared that morning. When Brenos had awakened in the woodcutters’ hut on the slopes above Faventia where the two had sheltered, he had found Warinar missing, along with the packhorse. The abbot assumed that when Warinar realized he had forfeited the bonus of a gold piece by arriving at Ravenna later than he had promised, the sullen guide had stolen the animal as payment and slipped away.
Fiachra had disappeared eight days earlier, at Florentia, just before the final climb to the Apennine summits. Brenos imagined that his brother monk had convinced himself that he had undergone enough penances to rectify all the transgressions he might incur in his lifetime. Whatever the reason, Fiachra was not there in the morning when the horses were readied. Satan had put Fiachra to the test, just as the angel had warned the Church of Smyrna, and the man had failed. Had not the Nazarene predicted that some seed would fall by the wayside? Fiachra had already protested at Lugdunum that he was ready to return to Culdees. At that point, in deference to his oath of obedience, he had gone on with his abbot, yet he had not stayed the course.
Brenos leaned against the tree to rest, and recalled his incredible journey. Everything had gone well until Lugdunum, where Warinar had been told that crossing the Genevris Pass into Italy would be impossible. Heavy snow and continuing poor weather had closed the alpine road, so he was advised to remain in Lugdunum until spring, or return home immediately.
Brenos had insisted on going on. By the grace of the Nazarene, Warinar found a bargemaster making a journey south to Arelate on the Rhodanus River, with a cargo of wine casks. From there the man said the three travelers could take the Via Julia Augusta to where it ended on the Mediterranean coast. At Forum Julii, the abbot could board a boat to Pisae—if he could find a galleymaster foolish enough to risk a winter sea voyage. Otherwise, the bargeman suggested following the coastal road to Genua, where it would connect with the Via Aemilia Scauri to Pisae. From that city they would take the Arnus and Sieve River roads until the rise to the Apennine crests began. Once over the pass at the summit, the descent to the Adriatic coast would be relatively easy.
The trio had found conditions in the Viennensis Province unstable, particularly at Arelate. Despite having signed a treaty with Ravenna, Theodoric the Visigoth king had never abandoned his ambition to control the entire Mediterranean coast. Theodoric’s most recent attack on Narbo had failed, and he had been taken prisoner. A new treaty was being worked out, but Arelate was closed off and patrol galleys blocked downstream barge traffic to the mouth of the Rhodanus River.
While his horse nibbled at dead grass under the pine, Brenos unslung a wineskin and swigged the dregs of a cheap vintage bought from the civic guard at Faventia. It did little to slake his feverish thirst, and every movement pained his raw wound. Beeswax waterproofing on his leather food case had long weathered off; the last chunks of bread were damp and moldy; and yet the poor fare was a small inconvenience, he thought, as he eyed what was left of the route he would take. “The Road of the Golden Gate,” Warinar had called it, an apt name for the highway on which the head of the Gallican League would arrive to carry out the Nazarene’s mandate.
In searing pain from the raw wound on his side, Brenos remounted and clucked his horse forward, glad now of his decision at Lugdunum to go on despite the hardships. At Arelate he had been able to enter the city by appealing to the bishop and citing his rank as abbot. From there the Via Julia Augusta had crossed rich vineyards, olive groves, and grain fields that were relatively unplundered despite the recent barbarian wars. Contingents of mercenaries hired by each community made sure that the countryside remained free of bandits. As head of a monastery, Brenos used the prestige of his church office, and Warinar had shown the signet of Valentinian III on his travel authorization to pass them through without much harassment.
At Forum Julii, on the coast, Warinar had advised taking the road, rather than a galley, as much to avoid certain seasickness as a potential sinking in a winter storm. The former reason was the most likely, so Brenos agreed.
The new monastery of Lerinum was on an island a short distance beyond Forum Julii. Brenos recalled that he had been tempted to rest in the company of a fellow abbot for a few days and have his wound treated, but he did not know the churchman and was unwilling to face questions about what forced him to travel such a distance before spring brought better weather.
Once inside the province of Italy, Warinar had said they would be more secure. Yet, at an ambush near Albinganum, only a timely showing of the emperor’s authorization and a bribe of silver coins saved the three men from being murdered and their bodies thrown into the sea.
Warinar had bought fresh horses at Genua and turned south along the Via Aemilia Scauri to Pisae. The road was more crowded with traffic, yet also safer because of it. The Arnus River segment from Pisae to Florentia went relatively well, but it was at the latter town that Fiachra decided he had done enough penance and would go no further. From Florentia, a dirt road that twisted back upon itself in sharp, rising turns led up to the Apennine pass. There the weather turned miserable again, with morning fog and daily rains that washed out sections of the mountain road and threatened the horses’ footing.
Now, despite his exhaustion and pain, Brenos felt growing excitement. He was finally here! The Nazarene
