Divine Sacrifice, The (20 page)

“The day is passing us quickly, Malgwyn,” he said, leading me away from the burial. Coroticus looked at us questioningly as we brushed by him. I am certain that he thought Patrick
would stay, but the
episcopus
had said his good-byes. Watching the coffin lowered into the ground and the sod covering old Elafius would not provide him an end to the story or to his own
grief.

Behind us, the chanting began again and Gildas’s voice grew stronger. I took the lead then and guided Patrick back to his wooden cell. We sat on the wooden stools we had occupied before,
and Patrick stayed silent for a long while.

When I had tired of contemplating how the wisps of smoke from the abbot’s kitchen hung in the heavy, moist air, I looked to my colleague. He had aged twenty seasons in as many minutes. His
wrinkles, already deep as ravines, deepened yet more. Those brown eyes of his had retreated farther into his skull. His skin seemed stretched tautly over bone, and even in the dull light I could
see flakes of dead skin peel away from Patrick’s forehead as if they were trying to flee.

“ ’Tis almost time for the evening meal,
episcopus
. Why do we not delay our work until tomorrow. By then, Bedevere’s men will have found Gwilym and we may question him
and, hopefully, reveal the truth of Elafius’s death. Until then, you may sup and rest. It has not been your easiest day, I suspect.”

He looked up then, with that same soft smile. “You judge well, Malgwyn. Tomorrow, once we conclude our discussion with Gwilym, my aides and I will be off to Castellum Marcus. I believe
that once we have talked to the brother, you will have no trouble discovering the truth of this matter.” Patrick paused, and I could almost see the new thought entering his mind.
“Malgwyn?”

“Episcopus?”

“Will you come to Castellum Marcus after the affair with this Gwilym is finished?”

“But why, Patrick?”

“I would have you serve as my advisor as I appear before the commission.” His voice held no hint of mischief or laughter. He was all sincerity.

“
Episcopus
, I . . . Why would you want me? I am no
sacerdote
, no
presbyter
. I am not learned in Christly matters. And I abhor that act for which you stand
accused. I grant that you were young and much has happened since, but I would seem the worst possible advocate.”

“Because you are a man for whom logic is a passion. Your reasoning is not driven by emotion. When my opponents argue their charges against me, you will be able to find the flaws without
allowing the alchemy of religion to cloud your judgment.”

I drew back as if bitten. “
Episcopus!
You called religion ‘alchemy’!” Even I knew that this was next to blasphemy.

Patrick smiled at me and patted my shoulder. “Why, Malgwyn! Someone else might think you believed in the Christ. Some would like to ascribe the powers of the alchemist to
sacerdotes
and
presbyters
, but the Christ is not about their ramblings.” He paused again. “You are a good man, and short though our friendship may be, I have come to
trust you as I have few men in my life.”

I could read the truth of his statement in every line on his face. This was not a man who easily trusted anyone. And after all of those years he had spent among the Scotti, I could readily see
why. They were a cruel and vicious people who preyed on others. Much of their wealth came from raiding our coasts, stealing our people and our produce, our tin shipments. Men such as Patrick indeed
risked their lives by proposing to convert the Scotti from their pagan ways to those of the Christ.

“What of my work here?”

“I suspect that by morning, Lord Bedevere will have discovered Gwilym. By noon we will have arrived at an answer to the riddle of Elafius’s death. Then, I feel certain that Lord
Arthur will release you to assist me. It will only be for a short while.” Patrick had neatly covered every possibility, though I strongly suspected that we would be searching for
Elafius’s killer this same time on the morrow.

Despite that, I said the only thing I could. “It would be my honor to serve as the
episcopus
’s counselor in this affair. And should the murderer of Elafius prove that simple
to ferret out, I would consider it a great honor to offer my humble services to you.”

“And I,” the deep voice of Arthur thundered up the lane, “would be honored to give him leave to serve as your counselor in the meeting at Castellum Marcus.”

Arthur strode up the path, his crimson robe, which was pinned at his shoulders, flowing behind. Chain mail clad his chest and a dagger marked his belt. His impressive sword dangled at his
hip.

“You look prepared for war, my lord. Have we missed some news?”

Arthur sighed. “No, I’ve been listening to the complaints from local merchants. I find this garb brings more cooperation.”

“With what?” Busied as I was with the matter of Elafius, I had lost track of Arthur’s work.

“Goods stolen from merchant ships have begun appearing among the lands of the Dumnonii.”

“Pirates.” I shrugged. “You can never completely stamp them out, and they will find merchants to sell their wares. In truth, ’tis hard to blame the merchants.”

“True, but for men dealing with pirate scum they seemed awfully nervous.”

“Do any of them owe the pirates aught?”

“They say no.”

My eyes narrowed. “That is odd.”

“And not so odd, Malgwyn. How goes it with you? Are you ready to resume your duties? After assisting the
episcopus
, I mean,” he added hurriedly with a hint of a wink at me.
I smiled.

“Bedevere is organizing a search for the
monachus
Gwilym. I believe when we locate him that Elafius’s death will become clear.” Despite my pleasant, though
frustrating, interview with Gwilym earlier, I felt strongly now that he was the culprit. All else he said was simply meant to turn us from the scent. The why of it? Tangled beyond redemption in
some mystic religious argument, I supposed. My day with Patrick had taught me how seriously the church took such issues as seemed minor to me.

“Tell me, Lord Arthur, something of how you have your
consilium
organized.”

Such pleased Arthur, and so I left them talking to find Bedevere encamped at the abbot’s kitchen giving orders and receiving reports as the men hurried about, pausing for an occasional cup
of
pulsum
, the vinegar-laced drink soldiers loved.

“What word, Lord Bedevere? Have your men found my wayward
monachus
yet?”

He shook his woolly head. “And ’tis strange, Malgwyn. He is hiding. Only that explains our failure. Granted, word spread quickly of our search, but we moved even more quickly. Were
he just visiting villages, we would have found him.”

“Will you search through the night?”

He shook his head. “No. We will begin again at first light. A man in hiding has too many sanctuaries in the night. And if he is truly in hiding, he is more dangerous to my men. Better to
wait until daylight; less chance of losing a man to accident.”

I nodded in agreement. “Are they all returned?”

“No, one three-man patrol sent out toward the Mount of Frogs has not reported.”

“Let me know when they do.”

“Malgwyn,” Bedevere said, half chiding, “you will certainly know if they do not”

“The Mount of Frogs! Malgwyn! It is enchanted!” My newest naysayer was none other than my friend Merlin.

“Merlin, what brings you here?”

“Arthur thought I might be of some assistance to you.”

I wrapped my one arm around him and hugged tightly. “I need you as much now as ever, Merlin. I hope your bag of tricks is full.”

“I thought he could sleep with us at Coroticus’s hall, so he wouldn’t be so lonely,” Bedevere said, but a thought came to me and I stopped him with a hand.

“No, I will sleep in Elafius’s cell; perhaps it will bring me an understanding of this affair.”

“Perhaps,” Bedevere agreed with a bearded grin. “But perhaps you will just wake up chilled in the morning.”
Monachi
were not allowed to have fires in their
cells. It was said to be an old tradition, emphasizing the suffering
monachi
endured for their Christ. In reality it was to keep the
monachi
from burning down their huts. They
tended to be somewhat forgetful in that regard, and the ground was marked in places with the burned remnants of such a
monachus
.

“Perhaps, but Merlin will need a place to rest, and I would have him do that in your chamber. I need silence, to sort out this matter.”

“And I am too loud for you,” Merlin muttered. “If you could but hear the ravings of his snores and the blasts of his . . .”

“I have, my friend.” Bedevere smiled broadly, a rare occurrence. “And yours as well.”

“So this is the famous Merlin of whom I have heard so much.” Patrick’s voice crackled over the gathering as he joined us, with Arthur beside him.

Merlin tensed for a moment, but when the old
episcopus
clapped a hand on his back, I noted that Merlin relaxed. In moments the two men were laughing.

This boded well for us, I thought. I felt certain that Gwilym would give us the key to Elafius’s demise. In my heart I felt bad, because whoever Gwilym was, Coroticus and Rhiannon seemed
duty bound to keep it hidden. Whatever fate might befall them for preserving that secret was sad, but I suspected that they knew the hazard of their actions. I felt especially bad about Rhiannon.
She was a beautiful woman, one with spirit. I could not deny my feelings for Ygerne, but those growing for Rhiannon were stronger yet. As she was a sister of the community, though, I knew I would
never see a chance to grow those feelings yet deeper.

In actuality, the death of Elafius was more than likely a simple affair. Coroticus’s hurried plea and the lies about Gwilym’s true identity merely made it seem more ominous. In my
experience with men of the religious orders, they tended to puff up small matters, as a flat goat flagon would grow thrice its size when filled.

The more I turned it over in my mind, the more I thought that Patrick’s quandary was the most critical. If I had any skills at defense, Patrick was a man worthy to expend them on.

We were in something of an oddly festive mood, considering the burial of Brother Elafius. But Patrick’s mission had become less important, it seemed, and since he had confided to me his
real reason for coming to our island, I think a great weight had been lifted from him. Perhaps he had dreaded his meeting with Elafius and confessing to his boyhood friend. Perhaps in
Elafius’s death had lain some relief, but I realized that I was being unkind.

Over my shoulder, I noticed that Bedevere had pulled Arthur to the side with a note of concern on his face. I joined them and immediately observed that Arthur was tugging on the ends of his
mustache. He did this only when something nagged at him.

“A problem?” I queried.

“I am not certain. There is something out of sorts but I cannot reckon it. Lauhiir is too anxious to please, and he seems well equipped for a young noble in his first command. The village
and abbey seem too prosperous for these times.”

I had been so busy with the matter of Elafius and handling Patrick that I had forgotten my own curiosity about these things. “What make you of this?”

Arthur shrugged. “I am not sure. I had hoped that you would be finished with this Elafius affair and could apply that brain of yours to something more important.”

“Be at ease, my lord. I suspect that by morning all will be settled. The old
monachus
Gwilym will not avoid Bedevere’s patrols tomorrow for long. His companions will weary
of the task and, besides,
monachi
are trained to serve the Christ, not to evade pursuers.”

“You believe he killed Elafius?”

“I believe he was the only one with reason and no one can say he didn’t kill him. I believe that the yew extract was left to implicate Rhiannon. But I doubt her complicity though I
also know that two people had a hand in his death.” I paused. “Until I can question Gwilym, this is all I know.”

“Now, tell me of this commission and why you need to accompany Patrick to Castellum Marcus.”

“Arthur, I promised Patrick that I would go to Castellum Marcus with him and counsel him.”

Arthur’s expression surpassed annoyance. “I need you here! Besides, he has been no friend to the nobles of Britannia. Make your apologies and remain with me.”

“But Arthur, you told him I would have your leave to go.”

He brushed a leaf from his sleeve as if he were brushing my argument aside. “You know little of religion.”

Aye, this was true. But Arthur wanted me to disappoint Patrick. He had no wish to do so himself.

“My lord, he is a man in trouble. Should it matter that he has opposed you from time to time? And remember, Ceredig deserved every word Patrick said against him. The man lined up new
believers in the Christ and slit their throats, Arthur!”

The Rigotamos did not like my defiance, but he had never liked it. He suffered it because he knew that, like him, I tried to do the right thing. “Why would he wish you to go with him to
Castellum Marcus? What is happening there that could possibly involve you?”

“He is being called before a special commission, meeting at Castellum Marcus, to answer charges of rape and murder newly levied against him. If his accusers succeed, they will strip his
bishopric from him.”

“When did this happen? Where? Among the Scotti?”

“No, no. Many, many years ago, before Patrick was taken as a
servi
. A young girl was murdered and violated, and Patrick now stands accused.” I was careful in my wording.
There was no need to violate Patrick’s confidence.

“And he wishes you to investigate a murder that happened before any of us were born?”

“He wishes me to be his counselor only, my lord. Arthur, it has become obvious to me that the church operates much as a band of lords. No one lord should be perceived to be more popular or
more famous. Now there are elements in the church who believe that Patrick has reached such a renown. They hope to drag him down, no matter how old the evidence. Please, Arthur, it will take but a
few days at most. Whatever is happening here will keep for that long. And when I return, I will be able to concentrate more fully on these strange doings. In truth, I have noted an uncommon
prosperity.” Then, I remembered the little thief Llynfann, and his errand. “Early this morning, I dispatched Llynfann to find the source of all of this bounty imported by Coroticus and
Lauhiir.” I looked about but saw no sign of him. “Bedevere, have you seen any hint of the little bandit?”