“Because you’ll needhelp.”
“I don’t doubtit.”
“And if you need mine, Iwill stay.”
Chapter Ten
Full moon, midsummer—the Feast of St.John, and a sweet, sultry darkness had come down at last.The seastirred restively, little white horses whispering to painlessdestruction on the warm sands.Bronze wands of hypericum nodded inshifts of night air too lazy to be called a breeze, the tiny glandsin their leaves glistening with oil.Great trumpets of bindweedgaped their silent music, and silvery seedpods of honesty, theirskins already shrivelled after a fortnight of heat, gave the moonback her light.In the spectral, shifting radiance, the so-calledabbot of Fara crouched by a stream, washing streaks of afterbirthfrom his hands.
A lantern appeared briefly in a gapbetween the dunes.Brother Hengist’s broad face shone beneath it,grinning.On his hip he bore the grain sack for the night’s baking,ten good loaves that would rise in the dark hours and be thrust, asif into the fires of dawn, into the monastery oven at first light.“Is all well, Abbot Cai?”
Cai plucked a water-lily root from thestreambed and lobbed it at him accurately, muddy end first.“Yes,all’s well.Once there was one ox and now there arethree.”
“Nature is bountiful.Goodnight, Abbot Cai.”
Another lily root, this time bouncingharmlessly off the baker’s broad rump.Alone, Cai finished washinghis hands, then splashed water into his face for good measure.“Abbot?”he said to the moon, who seemed to be expectingconversation, her weary face attentive.“I’m not sure an abbot hasto doctor beasts as well as men.Or spend his day up to the hips inmud before that, helping dig ditches and drains.”
“But you looked so fetchingwhile you were about it.”
Cai jumped.He tried to smooth thereflex away but knew he failed.He didn’t look up—plunged his handsinto the stream again and watched smilingly as the water wovepatterns through his fingers.“How would you know?You were offwith Wilfrid.”
“The view is good fromthose hills.A handsome soldier with his cassock hitched up and aspade in his hand… A much finer sight than the goats.”
“I should hope so.But Inotice they fascinate you, whenever there’s work involving mud,blood or innards to be done.”
“Abbot Cai, you’re afalse-tongued excuse for a Christian.”
A shadow fell over the water.StillCai didn’t look.It had become a complex pleasure to deny himselfthe sight of his lover until the last instant.He didn’t want tosee too soon.He didn’t want Fen to know the changes seeing wroughtin him each time—the heat, the helpless flush.And Fen was right—hewas a liar.There wasn’t a single task the Viking had evaded sincetheir return from the sea.He had built walls, helped unblock thechannels that ran from the latrine, turned his hand to the dozensof jobs where his strength and persistence had beenneeded.
Fara was coming to life again.All thedaily work that had fallen into abeyance after the raids, set asidethrough grief or lack of manpower… It wasn’t so hard, Cai haddiscovered, to see where men should go and send them there.WithFen at his side, he had even been able to do it, overcoming theshame of giving orders to his friends.He had toldAelfric—dispassionately, standing in the abbot’s study while theold man looked at him like a snake—that the monks of Fara wouldcome to prayer when they could.That prayer in a field or a ditchwas as good as—better than, maybe—prayer in a church, under God’sclear skies.
Aelfric had conceded.The brethren hadgone willingly to their work, their new leader amongst them, asembroiled as they were in the labour and mud.Cai didn’t know howFen’s presence had made these things possible, but he felt theViking’s power like his own, like sunlight.They had seldom workedtogether over the last two weeks.Fen could administrate a task aswell as carry it out, and had gone without Cai’s request to thefield where the new dormitory hall was rising, or tumbled drystonewalls being repaired.To Cai, their separation had been essential,and Fen hadn’t questioned it.They were leading by example, and Caiknew—as Leof had known, as even broadminded Theo had taught—that tolive as a monk in this church of Christ, a man ought to bechaste.
They had barely touched one another.Had spent their days apart, their nights in the communal hall.ButFen was here now.“Yes,” Cai said softly, looking at him at last.“I am a very poor Christian indeed.”
“How did your mother oxfare?”
“Very messily.The twin wasa surprise.Would you like to see them?”
They made their way quietly back downthe track to the barn, pushing aside the long stalks of hypericumas they passed.St.John’s wort, Danan called the plant, the powerof the ancient sun god disguised behind the name.As if the thoughthad summoned her, there she was—far off on the seaward slope,moving like a ghost through the moonlight.This was a fine nightfor gathering herbs, she had taught—full moon, and the midsummertides of the earth at their height.The oil from the hypericumleaves made a tonic that eased men’s griefs, caused the sun toshine within them and disperse their sadness.She had a basket onher arm.The moon lit up her cloud of white hair like a halo.Caiwondered how Addy was, and if the old woman had lately brought himmead, threading the legendary tunnels beneath the sea or sailingthe night air on her broom.Then Fen’s shoulder brushed his, andall thoughts beyond the moment deserted him.
He’d left a lantern burning in thebarn, hung safely from a rafter while he worked.The ox dam hadtaken hours about her labour, finally depositing one slitherybundle into the straw, the second one coming so fast after it hadalmost dropped into Cai’s hands.Now the pair were on their feet,their eyes wide in the lamplight, their matching expressions ofastonishment so absolute that Cai began to laugh.“There they are.One of each.The bull looks a bit like Eyulf.”
“Don’t wish that on him.”Smiling, Fen went to look them over.Neither they nor their motherflinched at his approach.His touch was careful, almost tender, ashe felt the little limbs, brushed drying afterbirth out of thesilky coats.Cai was surprised.Fen had liked Eldra, but she was awar machine.His pleasure in these domestic young wasunforeseeable, so far a cry from the man who had wanted to slayAddy that Cai struggled to fit the two images together in hismind.Youdon’t know him,his fading sense of self-preservation warned him.Knowing should comebefore love.
But it was too late for thatnow.
Fen looked up.“Are you allright?”
“Yes.Tired,maybe.”
“They’re fine littlebeasts.Shouldn’t she be up and feeding them?”
“Aye, that she should, thelazy old girl.”Cai slapped the ox dam’s rump.She turned herplacid head in his direction but lay still, chomping serenely.“Shethinks she’s earned a rest.Come on, your ladyship.Hup!”
Fen took hold of one great curving horn.“You heard him, Dagsauga.On your feet.”Immediately the beast gavea snort, spread her hooves on the packed-earth floor and lurchedupright.Her calves needed no second invitation, wobbling over onuncertain legs, bumping bony brows against her udder.
“All right.What magic wordwas that?”
