Step,parry, thrust.One, two, three.Cai glanced over the top of hisshield at Brother Gareth, broke the rhythm of the drill and drove aslicing stroke downwards.Gareth didn’t so much as blink.He spunand knocked Cai’s blade aside.
“Good,” Cai gasped, gripped his sword hilt fast and carriedon.
That was the trouble.Theyweregood now, his little band ofwarriors.Cai had taught them everything he knew, and he couldn’ttake them further.Cai’s fighting skills were those of aquarrelsome hillfort chieftain.They had served well enough in thelast raid, but what about the next?One, two, three… It was hard,even with surprise attacks like the one he’d just launched onGareth and one-on-one test fights that came perilously close to thereal thing, to sustain his men’s concentration.Benedict no longerjoined them.No sign of Oslaf this morning either.Would they losemomentum, one by one, fall under Aelfric’s influence and wait forGod to save them?
Gareth,grinning, his hypochondria long since blown away in the pleasuresof action, jumped to one side, broke drill and made a sly jab atCai’s ribs.
“Good!”Cai said again, only just evading him.“Insolent,but…very good.”
“No.No, no, no.”
Caijerked round, signalling Gareth to stop.From the shadows by thewall, a lean shape was emerging, one hand impatiently extended.Therest of the monks stopped their drill and turned towatch.
For thelast few days, Fenrir had accompanied Cai to the training ground.He’d asked to do so politely enough, and Cai had been content tolet him.Fen had been very different since their return from thesea.His belief in imminent rescue had been destroyed.He hadn’tspoken to Cai again about Sigurd or Gunnar—had barely spoken atall—but his silences had been thoughtful, and instead of holdinghimself proudly back from the daily life of the brethren, he hadstarted to appear amongst them, in the kitchen garden and at therefectory table.He had gone out once with Benedict and the plough.A few of the men recoiled from him, but those who knew and trustedCai took their cue from him, and carried on about their tasks whiletheir Viking enemy—now clad in a cassock, hard to distinguish fromone of their own number unless you looked into the amber-fireeyes—began unprompted to work at their side.
In theruins where Cai trained his warriors, he’d remained on thesidelines.Cai wasn’t sure why he’d wanted to come, but it meant atleast that he was within sight and out of trouble.And although forthe last week he’d barely opened his mouth, and not once laid handon him, still his presence was pleasing to Cai—a warmth like theglow in the air after sunset, the promise of morning to come.Nowhe was striding towards the gathered men, his passivity thrownaside.
“No,” he repeated, taking Cai’s sword from him.“You hold itbadly.I’ve been watching you—trying to work out why.Now Isee.”
Caifolded his arms.He was peripherally aware of murmurs from thegroup behind him.A Viking in the vegetable patch was one thing.Here in their midst with a sword in his hand, he was a bad memory,a vision from nights of smoke, blood and fire.“Well?”Caichallenged, making sure he kept himself between Fen and the others.“Are you going to tell me?”
“Since it irks me beyond endurance to watch you, yes.Comehere.”
He stood behind Cai.It was the best position for correctinggrip, and Cai braced himself not to notice the heat at his spine.He remembered a sea-fret breeze, and a promise—I would have made your blood sing…
“You think of it as a weapon.An object.”
“Yes.What else?”
“It is not,” Fen said.“Put your hand on mine.”Cai obeyed, andinstantly Fen lunged forwards, making the monks scatter.“There.Did I move, or the sword?”
“I don’t know.Both of you.”
“Exactly.Both, and each as alive as the other.The blade is apart of you.”Fen thrust again, bearing Cai forwards with him.Thistime the action felt natural and easy, the leap of energy palpablebetween man and sword, and no, Cai couldn’t tell which waswhich.
“I’m not sure…” he gasped, “…I want my brethren thinking oftheir weapons as part of themselves.We’re men of God.”
Fen handed the sword back to him but didn’t step away.“Whenthevikingrnextcome, do you think they will care?Go easy on you because you arepoor men of God, fighting against your will?Don’t hold it as ifyou wanted to cast it away.Take the hilt in your palm as if itwere part of the bone running down from your elbow.”
“Like that?”
“Yes.It hurts me a bit less to see you, anyway.Show yourmen.”
Heturned and made his way back to his seat among the ruins.He wasfavouring his side again, and his final demonstration thrust hadmade him go pale.Resisting the urge to run after him, Cai facedthe brethren, who were gathering round, interested to see what aViking had had to teach on the subject of dealing withVikings.
“Well,” he said reluctantly.“He’s right, isn’t he?We have togo into battle as warriors, not monks, no matter how we would wishto live the rest of our lives.Watch me.Take the hilt in your palmlike so—as if it were a part of you, an extension of yourbone…”
“And where will you be?When thevikingrnext come?”
Theywere descending the slope from the training ground.Cai had apatient waiting for him in the infirmary, Fen a stint with Benedictbehind the plough.There was no reason for them to be lingeringhere, taking the walk slowly, shoulder occasionally brushingshoulder in companionable bumps.The morning sun was pleasant,though, belying grey clouds gathering out at sea.
“I will be long gone by then.As soon as I can walk more than afew fields’ length.”
“You can almost manage that now.And I’ve told you, you cantake Eldra, if you’re so anxious to be gone.A chariot horse is nouse for close fighting, not on this type of ground.”
“Very well, I will.If you’re so anxious to be rid ofme.”
Theystopped and looked at one another.Cai tried to interpret theglimmer in Fen’s eyes.Was that suppressed laughter?“No.I mean, Iknow you can’t stay here.But…”
