Chapter 6
As a youth, Hew always relished the glorious rites held at Rivenloch whenever a noble warrior perished in battle.Because the clan was comprised of Viking invaders, Norman knights, Scottish warriors, and one intrepid assassin from the Orient, he was never certain whether the deceased was headed to heaven, hell, or Valhalla.Any ceremony on Rivenloch land was bound to be a melding of Viking tradition, pagan superstition, and Christian doctrine.But the event was invariably celebrated with fire and feasting, singing and storytelling.
So it was a disappointment to learn that burying the deceased layman at Kildunan involved none of these.Indeed, the ceremony stipulated even more decorum and prayer, less food and drink.
The dead man had no living kin.Still, the monks gave him a lengthy and somber service in the church.The man had apparently donated enough wealth to earn him a grave within the monastery walls.
Halfway through a day of burning candles and monotonous chants, Hew had had enough.His belly was growling.And the litany of prayers made him wonder if the monks intended to recite the entire Bible.
But then the elusive Father James made a surprise appearance.
At his arrival, the abbot fawned over the elderly priest.He welcomed him into the church and remarked on what a blessing it was to the deceased to have him present.
Hew studied the man.White-haired and wizened, there was a spark of intelligence in his snapping eyes.Withered he might be, but he missed nothing.His gaze immediately settled on Hew, and Hew could almost hear his thought…What ishedoing here?
Just as quickly, the priest turned his attention back to the matter at hand.He blessed the body and began intoning words of prayer as monks wafted incense over the shroud.
Hew used the opportunity to sink back into the shadows and observe.
Could Father James be the thief?
Was he devout or devious?
Did his holy vestments hide a black heart?
Was his practiced genuflection an indication of his light-fingered habits?
Suspicion must have shown in Hew’s furrowed brow, for beyond Father James, the prior glared pointedly back at him, wordlessly reminding him not to let on that anything was amiss.
He supposed that was wise.A watched outlaw was always careful.Hew needed the thief to think he was safe.Overconfident robbers made mistakes.
The priest didn’t stay long, and it seemed neither the time nor place to inquire about his visits to Kildunan.But Father James did speak at length to the abbot and the prior.And once or twice he glanced in Hew’s direction.Clearly, he wished to know who the stranger at the monastery was.Hew wondered what they were telling him.
According to the prior, when a monk died at Kildunan, he was buried in an unmarked grave in the orchard.But there was a special graveyard behind the orchard for notable guests.Two rows of small gravestones were embedded into the sod there like crooked teeth.At one end was a new hole gouged into the earth where the latest body would be buried.
By late afternoon, the rites were over.The monks dispersed from the grave until only the prior and he remained.
“Well?”the prior asked with a smirk, raising one judgmental brow.
Hew frowned.“What?”
“Ye can’t possibly think Father James is…” He glanced cautiously about the orchard for stragglers.“Ye know.”
“The thief?”
The prior winced.He obviously didn’t want to speak the words aloud.“Aye.”
Hew wasn’t ready to say.“I’m not certain yet.”
The prior thinned his lips in disapproval.
Hew had a question of his own.“What did you tell him about me?”
“Just that ye were visitin’ the monastery.”
“You didn’t tell him I was from Rivenloch?”
“I did not.”
