Divine Sacrifice, The (10 page)

“And you think this would be the first time? You are a simple man.”

Arthur was about to say something, but I stalled his assault with one of my own. I laughed. Laughed at her. “Woman, if you think you are the first to call me stupid then your own idiocy
surpasses mine.”

And that shut her up. And it gave me a chance to take her measure more fully. She was a tall woman, nearly as tall as myself. Her long hair was a light brown, the kind you often saw on Gauls.
Her lips were full and her eyes a deep hazel. Though her gown was loose-fitting, I caught a hint of a fine figure beneath it. She was indeed a beauty, and I wondered if that accounted for
Coroticus’s protection of her. Under other circumstances, I would have volunteered to be her protector.

I could tell from the slight smile at the corners of her mouth that she enjoyed my retort. “You are called Rhiannon. Whence came you?”

“Braga.”

I nodded. Braga was a large settlement in Gaul, the onetime home of Nimue, a serving girl whom Arthur won in battle and who now worked in the kitchen of his castle. She was a pleasant child and
had proven helpful in the past, and I made a note to ask her of this Rhiannon if the chance arose. I doubted, though, that I would be seeing the castle again until this affair was settled.
“Why came you here?”

“The sisters had need of someone to guide them. I answered their call.”

The answer lacked a key ingredient, I silently noted. If Gaul was her home,
why would she leave
? I sensed something missing in her voice, or something hidden.

“You argued with the
monachus
Elafius last night. Why?”

“If you are asking if I killed the old fool, the answer is no.”

Behind me, I heard Arthur chuckle.

“Woman, you would try the patience of any man! But I will have answers to my questions, or I shall still be here asking you questions through the next full moon.”

The outburst seemed to take some of the steam from her bravado. “Ask your questions. I will answer.”

“Of what did your argument concern?” I asked for the third time.

“The divine sacrifice.”

“What was at issue?”

“Whether a woman could properly serve a function in that ritual. Elafius said no. Where I come from, it is custom. I saw no reason to change my beliefs because an old
monachus
objected.”

“Coroticus did not object?” From the corner of my eye, I noted the abbot begin to speak, but Arthur’s hand on his arm silenced him.

Rhiannon caught the move as well and she smiled slyly. “Coroticus chose not to interfere with the conduct of the women’s community. He has much to keep him busy here among the
monachi
. The practice is not unheard of here in Brittania, and he is wise enough to know that he cannot control all things.”

This didn’t sound like the abbot that I knew so well. He prided himself on keeping his thumb pressed down on all under his purview. Such was the abbot whom I knew. I glanced in his
direction again and he avoided my eyes. Arthur, I saw, had noticed his avoidance as well. He frowned at me, his forehead crinkling, as if to say,
Let it lie until later.
The Rigotamos had
no desire to embarrass Coroticus in front of others.

I turned back to Rhiannon. “Please account for your movements last eve, after the evening meal.”

She smirked. “Such is an easy tale to tell. I retired to our community beyond the
vallum
. You may ask any of the women. I checked on them all before I took my rest.”

I chuckled inwardly. Such women would lie to protect their mistress. I did not judge them harshly or prematurely. When challenged by an outsider, those in such a community were more apt to rally
around their leader than not. The
monachi
at Ynys-witrin would certainly lie for Coroticus rather than face his wrath. Hence I was not disposed to relieve Rhiannon of the cloak of guilt
laid upon her. Nor could I place too great a faith in Gildas’s accusation. It was based on youthful emotion and ambition, not logic.

“Thank you for your time, my lady,” I said finally.

“You have no more questions?” she asked, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

“We know where to find you. When I have delved further into this matter, I am sure there will be further questions. Be not disappointed, abbess. Our interest in you has not
wavered.”

She turned to go, hesitated, and turned back to me. “Were I you, Master Malgwyn, I would speak to Lord Liguessac as well.”

“Why Lauhiir?” I looked to Arthur, who had his eyebrows raised as if to say, “Why indeed?”

“He has consulted with Elafius several times since his arrival at the Tor.”

“Were you aware of this, Coroticus?” I spun and faced the abbot, but his features showed total surprise.

“No. I had no idea.” His voice gave a hint of the lie.

I turned back to Rhiannon. “Do you know the substance of these conferences?”

She shrugged. “How would I? As you have pointed out, I was not close to the man, and I’m certainly not close to Lauhiir.” At that she turned away and left the hall.

“My lord, two of your men?” I asked Arthur. He motioned for them.

“Follow her,” I instructed. “I want to know where she goes and who she talks to. Be quiet about it. Try not to make a spectacle of yourselves.”

These were older men, men I knew. They nodded quickly and slipped out of the hall.

“Was that necessary, Malgwyn?” Coroticus complained.

I turned to face him. “If you find that ants are ruining your grain, do you just step on the ones that you see, or do you follow them back and kill the whole colony? If she is involved, I
doubt that she alone is guilty. She may lead us to others. The problem is, my lord abbot, I do not know what is or isn’t necessary in this affair. ’Tis better not to take chances. The
lady may be as innocent as a lamb, but we cannot know that as yet.”

Coroticus nodded slowly. “You have changed, Malgwyn. You act with a certainty you once did not possess. It is a welcome thing. See that this confidence does not turn into
arrogance.”

“Malgwyn may be guilty of many sins, Coroticus,” Arthur said. “But arrogance is not among that number. I have wagered my crown on him and he did not disappoint me. You called
for him. He did not seek this affair.”

While I had hated Arthur for many moons, I no longer bore him ill will. Aye, we were settling into something like our old rapport, when he was
Dux Bellorum
and I one of his captains. As
Rigotamos, he was proving as capable a governor as he was a general. And while I no longer commanded a troop of horse, I had moved even higher in his esteem, taking my place alongside Kay and
Bedevere as one of his closest confidants and counselors. We had come so far.

“Why did you call me? You sent Ider galloping down the lane to hurry me along, and yet, now that I am here, you seem reluctant to place your faith in me.”

“Let us move this discussion into my private chambers. What I would tell you is not for all ears.”

Without another word, Arthur, Bedevere, Coroticus, and I slipped through the door into the small suite of rooms at one end of the great building. Once there, I watched as Coroticus’s
shoulders slumped. Gone was the erect bearing. In its place appeared a tired man with little confidence.

“To answer your question, I sent for Malgwyn because I did not know that he would be coming with the Rigotamos, and I needed his peculiar talents. Elafius was dead, and I did not need to
desecrate his body to see that it was by the hand of another.”

“With respect, Coroticus, just knowing that he died by another’s hand does not make clear the questions of how and why such was accomplished.”

He took a step back and nodded, almost as if chastised.

“Why are you so intent on absolving Rhiannon of any guilt? Are you bedding her?” In my experience men displayed an inability to think a woman was guilty of anything for only two
reasons. Either they were bedding her or they wanted to.

“You are a hard man, Malgwyn. You spare no one in your quest. Be careful that you do not make more enemies than friends.”

“A good man, Coroticus,” Arthur replied, “makes a dozen enemies for every friend that he can claim. Such is the price of being honorable.”

Coroticus slumped into a chair. A thin trickle of sweat ran down his graying temple. “No, Malgwyn. I am not bedding her. I will admit to wanting to, but my belief in her innocence is
staked to another cause. She is a good woman and her faith in the Christ is strong. In the short time she has been here, she has taken firm control of the women’s community and it has grown.
That counts for much, and if some of her beliefs are contrary to my own, that is no reason to think her guilty of murder.”

“That is tolerant of you, my lord abbot,” I conceded. “I suspect that Patrick will not share your tolerance.”

“Patrick is yet another crisis to deal with. His time would be better spent saving souls in the land of the Scotti, not here trying to root out Pelagianism.”

“Is there Pelagianism here?”

Coroticus shrugged, but I detected something false in his movements. He was hiding something yet.

“Well, is there?”

“My
monachi
are free to believe as they wish about certain things. That is how I keep this community of believers functioning.”

I sighed. An answer without an answer. Such is why I hated nobles and abbots. They have been a bane to my existence for more years than I can count. Always talking but never really saying
anything. Even Arthur was guilty of this at times, when things were especially tense.

“So,” I deduced, “you do have followers of Pelagius here.”

“In a manner of speaking.” Coroticus continued to speak in vague terms.

I gave up.

“Well, that’s an issue for you and Patrick, not me.” I turned to Arthur. “Perhaps, my lord, it is time to visit Lord Liguessac.”

Arthur nodded. “Bedevere! Gather our troop of horse. We go to the Tor.”

“Malgwyn?” Coroticus called to me.

“Yes?”

“Tread carefully with Lauhiir. He does not take well to questions.”

Then, it was my turn to shrug. “I care not for what he takes well to. Both our commissions come from the Rigotamos. In that, we are equals. If he cannot understand this, I will teach
him.”

“You were more pleasant as a drunk,” Coroticus remarked.

“And you were more honest before you became an abbot,”I countered.

At that, we swept from the hall and began to make our way past the women’s community to the summit of the Tor.

T
he Tor at Ynys-witrin was as tall as it was mystical. Viewed from certain angles, it was visible as far away as Arthur’s castle. Viewed from
a different angle, it was invisible. No one had yet figured out why this was true, but we knew it was.

Great legend and great mystery shrouded the peak. Some said an ancient and holy treasure was buried somewhere on its heights. Others talked of hideous monsters lying in wait within the hill.
Tales so ancient that even Merlin did not know their source told of a
mundus,
as the Romans would have it, on the Tor. Such a place functioned as a doorway into the underworld. I did not
doubt that there was a cave beneath the Tor, but such cold dark places often excited people’s imaginations. Why, some even said that the Tor was the home of Gwyn ap Nudd, the fairy king.

More important, the Tor served a critical function in Arthur’s alert and message system. Watchfires linked Dinas Emrys, the castle of Ambrosius, with the Mount of Frogs, then the Tor at
Ynys-witrin, and thence to Arthur’s castle.

Now, it was to be the fortress of Liguessac, son of Eliman. He was more commonly called by his nickname, Lauhiir or “Longhand.” Arthur was forced by the
consilium
to give
Lauhiir dominion over the Tor, despite the fact that I considered him part of the conspiracy against Ambrosius Aurelianus and Arthur’s claim to the throne, that plot which took my brother
Cuneglas and young Eleonore from our midst. At the critical moment, however, I had no evidence with which to convict him. And one did not accuse nobility of treachery without evidence, not if one
valued his head.

So, instead of being exiled or condemned, Lauhiir was given command of a critical link in our defenses. Arthur was of mixed feelings. He preferred having Lauhiir close to him, but worried at the
possibility of further betrayal. One message from Dinas Emrys or the Mount of Frogs not passed on could cause the collapse of our defenses. To that end, at my urging, Arthur had posted four
horsemen at the Mount of Frogs to stand ready to speed any emergency messages to Arthur’s castle.

On the lower part of the slope that lay at the end of the long, narrow shoulder of the Tor, Lauhiir had begun construction of his gatehouse and defensive ditch with a wooden palisade. A well, an
old Roman well, lay just outside his new wall, and I nodded in understanding. There was no water on the summit, and carrying such up that steep slope was difficult at the best of times. But Lauhiir
was building his own hall on that summit, a sign of pride more than practicality. I had to compliment him though. He had constructed a long rope hoist that, when manned at a number of way stations,
could see any burden hauled to the top. I noted too that the hoist was handled by
servi, servi
with an unmistakable Scotti look to them. This puzzled me a little.
Servi
were
gained in battle mostly, but we had had no set battles with the Scotti in many years. The only other way to obtain
servi
was to buy them, but this many
servi
bespoke a wealth that
I did not think Lauhiir possessed. I sighed and shrugged. Perhaps his family had given them to him.