Aelfric gaped.“What do you mean, youheretic?”
“You can frighten them intosubmission for a while.I don’t doubt that.And I have no desirefor leadership.You will remain abbot, with all due deference paidyou.”
“You… Are you daring toofferme this?My ownGod-given place?”
“Yes,” Cai said frankly.Hedidn’t want to.He wanted to run to Fen where he was waiting—yes,waiting for whatever the outcome of this would be, his own freedomgranted and untaken.“It’s not much of a place, Aelfric.A handfulof monks on the edge of the world.But you’ve failed with them,haven’t you?Not even your own men have the heart to help younow.”
“Be silent, youcur.”
“In a moment.You can leaveif you wish, take back the news of your failure to your masters andleave us in peace.I don’t think you will, though.These men need aleader.I can do it kindly, and you’ll have a community here, underyour authority in name if not in fact.I won’t humiliateyou.”
“You won’twhat?”Aelfric began a low cackle.It was aterrible sound, hysteria and madness seething an inch from thesurface.“Kneel to me, brute!Abase yourself!”
Cai shivered.The breeze was warm, andAelfric was making this so hard, holding open a door onto the wholewide world.Cai’s resolution wavered, his newborn ideas of his dutytoo fragile to bind him down.Fen was waiting.He began to walkaway.
“Caius!”
Thin fingers closed on his sleeve.Heshook his arm free, but came to a halt, watching the sun burnishFen’s hair to copper and fire.
“Brother Caius.If you dothis…what is it that you want?”
I just want Fen.Cai almost said it,the wave of need so intense he wondered that it didn’t knockAelfric down.Aelfric had run after him.Cai doubted he had everrun a step after any man in his life.His eyes were murderouslybright at having been forced to it now.
“I want,” Cai began,choosing his words carefully, “for my abbot Theo’s body to be leftin peace in the crypt.I want my brother Benedict given his funeralrites and sanctified burial in our graveyard here.”He waited, butAelfric just stared.“And I want you to step aside and let thatwoman take her grandson home, with no more threats or fulminationsfrom you to darken his mind.”
A keening wail from up the slope madehim turn.Oslaf had fallen.The old woman, her face a mask ofgrief, was hauling him up across her lap, so pale that Cai wonderedif grief and shock had snapped the fragile cords of life in him.The other monks were clustered round, not touching orhelping—bewildered at having a woman in their midst, even one likethis, as plain and good as the bread they all had been brought upon.Even Theo had taught that a monk should stay clear of them.Forthe first time, a flame of impatient questioning sprang up in Cai’sheart.What kind of faith made strangers, enemies, of half theworld?
He was about to run to Oslaf’s aidwhen Bertwald stepped forwards.He leaned down over his fallenbrother, raised him tenderly off Hilde’s lap.He lifted himeffortlessly, and Oslaf gave a short, lost cry and hid his faceagainst his shoulder.Without a word, Bertwald set off, cradlinghis burden, Hilde scrambling to follow.
Cai stopped her as she passed.“Youmust be weary.”He glanced at Aelfric, who had stepped aside asbidden and was waiting with his hands locked white-knuckle tight bythe gate.“The abbot will give you shelter for thenight.”
“Shelter?”She peered athim from reddened eyes.“You’re a good boy.You sent that message,didn’t you?But there’s no shelter to be had here, not for ourkind.”
“All right.In thatcase…the abbot will send someone after you with food and drink.”Hewaited.After giving him a look that should have shrivelled him todust on the ground, Aelfric turned and stalked off in the directionof the kitchens.
Cai sank down on the turf bank thatcurved round inside the monastery wall.The bank was ancient, thewall by comparison new, the invention of yesterday.Untoldgenerations of men and women had found this place desirable, worthyof defence, had built their banks and grown their crops and livedand died, long before the creed of Christ had been thought of.Caiput his face into his hands.What had happened to them—all thosepeople?He envied them their peace, their very absence.They werenothing but the traces they’d left in the sunny earth.“What have Idone?”
A warmth settled by him.“You’ve takenthis place for your own.”A low, rumbling laugh.“And no bloodspilled.My people have no word for such a victory.”
“Victory…” Cai clutched at hisskull.Soon he would start laughing too, and that was no good—itwould undo him, and then he would weep.After Bertwald, goodbrother shepherd, had loaded Oslaf up onto the donkey and led himaway, Hilde bringing up a dignified rear, Cai had found the wholeremaining congregation of Fara looking at him, awaiting theirorders.He’d given them—quietly, hands spread insurrender—What are you waiting for?The beasts in the fields arehungry.Bread needs to be made, mead brewed for the market.Go toyour work.“Idon’t want such a victory.What are you still doinghere?”
The warmth became a pressure.Fen’sarm closed around his shoulders, so deep a pleasure that Cai sworehe wouldn’t look, not until he had to.He would have this moment,and not see the farewell in Fen’s eyes.
“Caius.”
“What?”
“You’re staying, aren’tyou?Since you just made yourself the abbot of thisplace.”
“No!I did not.All I didwas help them.”
“You took them into yourhands.”Fen tightened his embrace.“You’re not a man to let go ofthem, not after that.You’re going to stay.”
Cai lifted his head.The tears hadcome anyway, shaming him.He knocked them away.“Well?”he askedroughly.“What of it?”
“Aelfric has taken yourterms.He had to.But he isn’t sane, and you have made him hateyou.Such natures breed poison, and can poison men’s minds even intheir own madness.”
Cai looked at him in disbelief.“Thanks,” he said faintly, the marrow of his bones trying to meltin the heat of the amber gaze fastened on him.“You think I don’tknow all that?Why are you telling me?”
