“We’re not sailors.We’re…”Cai looked back over his shoulder, daring Fen to argue.“We’remonks.From Fara monastery.We were out fishing, and we got caughtin the storm.”
“From Fara?”The old man’sgaunt face lit up.“Fortunate boys!You study under Theo,then—Theodosius of Epiros, a most learned man.”
“Yes.He told us about Epiros.”Cai’s throat ached and closed.If this was the afterworld, Aelfrichad been right in part, then—paincouldchase and follow men there.The cry of theseagulls became desperate shouts from the scriptorium, and Leofwhispered to him from out of the surf.“But…Theo is dead,sir.”
The old man stopped short in histracks.Cai would have stumbled, but Fen was close behind him,catching him by the armpit.Cai turned to him.Only yesterday, hethought he would have to face such things—his grief, and the painof others—alone.Always alone.No,Fen’s burnished gaze told him silently.Not now.His grip on Caiturned to a hold, and together they watched the old man, who wasnow stalking unhappily back and forth along a few feet ofsand.
“My friend.Ah, poor Theo,my dear friend.I met him on my way back from Rome, when my eldersin Hibernia sent me to study there.What was it?The cholera?Henever did like this climate.He missed his dolphins and the warmsea.Was it flux?A pneumonia?Or…” He turned himself around, barefeet carving out an agitated circle in the sand.“Wait.Ah, that’swhat the damned old woman wasn’t telling me.There was a Vikingraid, she said, then she shut herself up, like the old clam she is.Was that how Theo died?”
Cai couldn’t keep up.His head wasspinning, with exhaustion and hunger and the energies he’d spilledout with Fen during the night.“Which old woman?”
“Who?Oh.Danan, she’scalling herself this time.The herbalist, though some would saywitch.A gossip, but not enough of one.Starts a story but thendoesn’t tell you it all, curse her bones.”
“Danan comes out here?”Caihad never seen her anywhere near a boat.“How?”
“Only the ancient creatureherself knows that.Tunnels, she says, though I’ve never found any.Probably she flies.Ah, poor Theodosius!So much learning, to bewasted and spilled out by a…”
He fell silent.The followingquiet was terrible, even filled with wave-wash and the breeze.Theold man stopped his pacing and drove his staff into the sand.Thenhe folded his hands into the sleeves of his robes.He stepped upand halted in front of Fen.“Not a sailor,” he murmured.“No, andno monk either.”He was as tall as Fen and could look him straightin the face.Fen remained still beneath his inspection, even whenthe old man reached to push back his fringe.“Square brow.Straightnose, high cheekbones.Red hair, but not like the western Keltoi.Red like the fox, and like blood.”He shuddered and retracted hishand.“Vikingr.”
“Ita vero,” Fen growled in return.Caiheard the danger in it and got ready to restrain him, but there wasno need.The old man stepped back, lowering his head.His face wasdeeply marked with the lines of an old, hard-learned lesson inforbearance.
“I have been discourteous,”he said.“Whatever your origins, the wind and the waves havebrought you here, and you’re my guest.Do you have aname?”
“Fenrir.This isCai—Caius.”
“Ah.Caius, a fine old Romanname.”The old man turned his attention to Cai.“And thisoneisamonk, though unshorn and out of his cassock—a man of God, no matterhow he feels right now.I am Aedar.Yet for many years now, thevillagers along these shores have called me Addy.I’ve come toprefer it.”
“Addy…” Cai ran a hand into hisunshorn hair.Another wash of vertigo went through him.“You’reAddy?My God… Theo talked to me about you just before hedied.He said…”
The old man’s brow furrowed, waitingfor him to go on.But the sea and the gulls, the cries from theburning scriptorium, grew too loud for Cai to think past them, andhe sat down hard on the sand.
“Caius?”Addy’s hand closedon his shoulder.He glanced in appeal at Fen.“What’s wrong withhim?”
“I don’t know, do I?He’sthe doctor, not me.”
“Is he sick?”
“No.He loved thisTheodosius, though, just as much as you do.And yesterday anotherfriend of his died.”
“A monk ofFara?”
“Yes, by his own hand.Theyhave another abbot there now—a damned scarecrow called Aelfric.I’mnot of your faith, and they don’t let me into the church, but I’vebeen watching.He’s a brute.Cai’s been trying to stophim.”
“This Aelfric—did thechurchmen of Canterbury send him?”
“Aye, that was theplace.”
Addy sighed deeply.“So it begins.AndI am little better, with my questions and my selfish grief, whenthis boy is half-drowned and wholly starved.You too.”
“Such things don’t botherme, old man.”
“Hm.Tough pirate.Immuneto the pangs of love too, I hope.”
“What?”
“Never mind.Just help himup and bring him with you.”
Cai tried to say he didn’t need the help.But he was so tired he could barely see, and when Fen bent down forhim, he reached up gratefully, skin heating with memories of thatstrength closing round him in passion.“I won’t let love give youany pain,” he said indistinctly, as Fen hoisted him to his feet.“Iwon’t let anything hurt you.”
