priests!' under his breath.
The monks began chanting their prayer again and continued on their way. They had gone only a few paces when Murdo, unable to help himself, risked a backward glance and saw that the soldiers were hurrying away down the road. 'They are going away,' said Murdo, and realized he had been holding his breath.
'Of course,' replied Ronan. 'Such sheep are seldom eager for their shearing.'
They reached the Church of Saint Mary to find the church precinct paved with bodies. All around the church, covering the slopes from the foot of the hill to the walls of the monastery, people lay upon the ground in knots and clusters; a few were wrapped in cloaks, but most simply sprawled on the bare earth where they had dropped. At first sight, Murdo thought the slaughter must have continued outside the walls of the city, but these were somewhat more fortunate than their countrymen: they were not dead, merely sleeping.
Murdo looked upon the silent multitude and saw among the clustered throngs Jews and Christians and Muhammedans-all massed together, each against the other, having sought refuge from the storm of death in what must have seemed to them the one safe place in the world on that hateful day.
Here and there, he spied a family group, surrounded by a few pitiful belongings snatched from the destruction of their lives. He felt the emptiness of their loss, and understood how very little separated him from them.
A narrow pathway wound through the mass of bodies to the monastery gate. Leading the camel carefully along the path, the monks picked their way among the sleeping bodies, and arrived at last at the monastery entrance directly behind the huge domed church. The timber doors were shut and barred, but a bell hung from the gatepost, and Emlyn gave the cord a single sharp pull. The sound wakened a few of the sleepers, who grumbled at the disturbance. The door gave forth a creak, and a small door in the larger gate opened. A round, dark face appeared in the gap. 'Who disturbs the peace of this place?'
'Forgive us, brother,' said Ronan. 'We would not trouble you if need were not hard upon us. As you can see, we are priests, too, and we are about a matter of urgency and beg admittance. We desire to speak to your abbot at once.'
The monk regarded them speculatively for a moment, and then said, 'I am sorry, the abbot is holding vigil, and I will not disturb his prayers. You must wait until after terce when the abbot receives his guests-even then, I cannot promise he will see you.' The porter paused, and added, 'These last days have been very difficult for us all.'
'I understand,' replied Ronan equably. 'If that is the best we can hope for, we will abide. But perhaps we might be allowed to wait inside?'
'Again, I must disappoint you,' the monk replied. 'Owing to the sudden arrival of the emperor's emissary, the guest lodge is full to overflowing. Even the yard is full. As you can see, there is room neither inside, nor out.'
'We would not disturb the serenity of this place in any way,' Ronan assured him. 'We require only a place to sit quietly while we wait. You need provide nothing more.'
'Very well,' relented the monk, 'I will let you in.'
'Thank you, brother. May God bless you.'
The little door closed, and they waited. Murdo had begun to think the monk had changed his mind, when he heard a scraping noise coming from the other side of the gate, and a moment later, the door swung open to admit them. They led the camel into the yard, and the gate was closed once more.
The inner yard was a square of hard-packed earth, swept clean, and bounded on three sides by various buildings, and on the fourth by a long wing of cells. Candlelight glowed from the window and doorway of several cells, and from the tiny chapel. There were people sleeping in the yard, hundreds of them, but here the monks had imposed an order on the chaos by arranging everyone in circumspect rows-four ranks on either side of a central pathway.
'I will show you to the stables. You may find a place there to sit while you wait. This way, please.'
They passed along the rows of bodies, and came to a low-roofed open building lined with stalls. There were horses in all the stalls, and picketed outside as well. 'See,' said the porter, 'even the stables are overcrowded. But you may wait here.'
Just then, a tall, white-robed figure emerged from the chapel and started across the yard. Upon seeing the visitors and camel, the figure stopped short and called out, 'Thaddeus? Is something the matter?'
The monk turned. 'No, abbot. I am sorry if we have disturbed your prayers. I was just making these visitors comfortable in the stable.'
'More visitors?' inquired the abbot, starting towards them. 'Truly, we are blessed with an abundance of visitors tonight.' Upon joining the newcomers, the abbot smiled and spread his hands in welcome. 'Greetings, brothers. I see we have the joy of receiving some of our own from other lands. You are welcome here, my friends. I am Philip, abbot of this monastery. Have you travelled far on your pilgrimage?'
'We have come from the land of the Scots at the world's farthest edge, where our monastery rejoices in its labours in the fields of the Lord. As it happens, I am also an abbot of our small, but excellent order.'
'Indeed!' exclaimed Abbot Philip, much impressed by this. 'We must sit together tomorrow when we can talk further. I would hear how the affairs of the church are conducted in the barbarous wilds of which you speak.' He smiled, and made a little bow to the good brothers looking on. 'But you are tired and I will not detain you further. Unless there is something I can do for you, Brother Thaddeus will show you to your rest.'
'Time and circumstance are against us, I know,' Ronan said quickly. 'And I would not trouble you if need were not pressing, but we have begun a work from which we dare not desist until it is completed.' So saying, he indicated the shroud-wrapped bundles on the camel, and invited the abbot to look for himself.
'Ah, I understand,' the abbot said, sorrow shading his tone. 'Are they priests?'
'No, abbot,' answered Ronan. He beckoned the priest a little apart. They spoke to one another in quiet earnest for a moment, and when they returned to where the others were waiting, the abbot raised his eyes to where Murdo sat, still as a stone atop the camel. 'May God bless you richly, my friend. May Our Blessed Lord console you with his loving spirit in your time of grief.'
Murdo made no reply, but nodded his acceptance of the abbot's condolences.
'Brother Thaddeus,' instructed the abbot, 'open the crypt and lead our friends to the catacombs.'
'But abbot, we cannot-' objected the monk.
'Please, the night is far spent,' Abbot Philip told him. 'Do as I say. All will be made clear in God's good time.'
'Thank you, abbot,' Ronan said. 'God willing, perhaps we can sit down and talk together one day soon, you and I.'
'I look forward to that with keenest anticipation,' the senior replied, and departed with a blessing, leaving them to their work.
Brother Thaddeus, none too pleased with the abbot's intervention, nevertheless undertook his duties with good, if somewhat officious grace. 'The crypt is this way,' he said. 'Will you require help with the bodies? If so, I can summon some of our brothers.'
'Thank you, brother, but no,' Ronan declined. 'I fear we have disturbed the tranquillity of your good community enough for one night. The labour is ours; we will shoulder the burden and complete what we have begun.'
'As you wish,' said the monk, and started towards one of the buildings across the yard. 'This way to the catacombs.'
Fionn tugged on the rein rope, and the camel collapsed with a wheezing blat; Emlyn helped Murdo to his feet, and supported him as he limped across the yard, passing back along the rows of sleeping refugees and the line of now-darkened cells towards the chapel. As they approached the last cell, Murdo's eye was drawn by a movement in the darkness. He turned his head and was startled by the sudden appearance of a swarthy, dark-haired man in the doorway.
The man was tall and of regal appearance, and had neither the dress nor the manner of a monk. He glanced at those passing by his doorway and, finding nothing to interest him, stepped back into the shadowed cell once more. Murdo turned his attention to the chore at hand.
