“I think if the crop hadn’tfailed, they wouldn’t be.And other things happened while you weregone.The children have come out in an itching rash, and one ofBarda’s goats has died.”
“For God’s sake.Thosegoats were ancient.I’ll take a lotion of zinc down for thechildren tomorrow—it’s probably fleas.”He sat up, Fen shiftingwith a grunt of protest to accommodate him.“Damn it, though—wecould ill afford to lose that grain.The farmers at Traprain cansell us a little, but we’ll be badly off over the winter.Anythingelse?”
“Well, I wanted you tosleep before I told you this, but we’ll be worse off still if theapples don’t ripen.Hengist says they should be turning sweet bynow, but they’re still green and sour.”
For the first time, Cai ran out ofreasonable arguments.A primal fear touched him—of a long, darkwinter with no grain or fruit.And, this winter, twenty-nine hungrymen looking at him to ask him why.“Fen,” he whispered uneasily,the warmth of their joining draining away from him.“What’s goingon around here?”
“I don’t know.But it wasdifferent, wasn’t it—before the men from Canterburycame?”
Before the raids, too.Cai didn’t say it.His lover was here, shoulder pressed to his shoulder, never less ofa Viking pirate than now, with lambent eyes fixed on him inconcern.But Cai often thought as Fen had done beneath that goldenmoon—howhave we come to this?“Yes,” he said.“I’ve tried to make it as it was,restore it a little.But…”
“But Aelfric and the crowsinfest it and undo all your good work.”
“Not quite so badas—”
“I tell you what we should do.No—what I should do, since you’re a monk.One night I should drugtheir ale with something from your cabinets.And then, whilethey’re asleep, I should take my swordBlóðkraftr dauðiand—”
“Fen!”Cai couldn’t repressa spasm of horrified laughter.“Stop it.”
“What?I have said I willdrug them, haven’t I?They won’t be in any pain.And then you couldbe abbot here in truth, which is what your brethren and thesevillagers need.”
“Hush, will you?”Pushingup onto his knees, Cai put his arms around him.Cai never had comequite to terms with Viking humour and couldn’t tell now if he wasserious.He held him, trying to enclose within the circle of hisembrace all that was noble in him, the dawning compassion that hadmade him spare the life of old Addy, everything that made him a manCai should love.He pressed his lips to the graceful arch of hiscollarbone, looked into the darkness beyond his shoulder.“We can’tdo such things.”
“Why not?Your world is sohampered.These men are parasites, poisoning the minds of yourfriends.With a few swings of my blade…”
Cai pressed a silencing hand to his mouth.Fen chuckled and pushed his tongue against his palm, sending boltsof arousal down his spine.“Demon,” Cai whispered.“Be still.There’s somebody coming—one of the parasites, I think.”
The track below the stables was dark,hard to negotiate on a cloudy night.Nevertheless, a black-robedfigure was tearing along it as fast as he could go.Drawing Fen outof the stable doorway where the lantern made such glories of hisskin and hair, Cai listened, his hand still pressed tight despitethe patterns Fen was now tracing on it with his tongue tip.“Itsounds like Laban.What’s he doing out here at this time ofnight?”
“What do youcare?”
The question was only a muffledvibration, but Cai knew all his sounds by now.“Less and less bythe second.But he may be ill.”Cai recalled the last man he’dfound sobbing and distraught on a pathway at Fara.“I’d better goand see.”
“Please yourself,physician.”
“I won’t be long.Will youwait here?”
“Mm.”Fen settled himselfon the straw.He stretched out one arm along the top of a bale anddrew up his knee, the better to display his hips and thighs,somehow more powerful to Cai in their lassitude than when they hadbeen taut and convulsing in the throes of their fuck.
“Don’t,” Cai rasped,struggling into his cassock.In reply, Fen only grinned and ran ahand down his own body, then took hold of his rising cock in a gripCai knew from vast experience felt bloody wonderful.“Please.”
“Well, hurry.Yes, I’llwait here.But I can’t promise you that I won’t start bymyself.”
Cai ran out into the night.Atthat moment he hated not only Laban and the Canterbury clerics butevery duty, every obligation, every man, woman and child who mightget between him and the magnificent creature he’d left behind him.He hated the stony path for stretching out beneath his feet—thevery air, for being closer to Fen than he was, for wrapping itselfin summer-breeze embrace around him.Visions of rebellion dancedthrough his head.He would take Fen and leave this place.PerhapsBroccus wasn’t so wrong about the mindless life of thesenses—perhaps Cai too would become a hillfort chieftain, fight allday and roll Fen around in his barbaric wolf-skin bed all night.Where was the world where they could leave Viking and monk farbehind them and live freely as men—where even Cai’s own questionsand doubts would be silenced in his heart?He thrust away thevision of Broc’s beautiful yellow-eyed hound.His very guts burnedwith the need to run back to the stable, fling himself into Fen’sarms, impale himself on that waiting shaft.We can manage on passion andspit…
Shuddering, he took up position on atwist in the track.Laban, if it was him, would have to comethrough here.Cai didn’t feel like offering comfort, no matter whatthe problem.Perhaps for once his duty to his fellow man could bedischarged simply and fast.“Laban,” he called, stepping forwardsas the dark figure rounded the corner.“It’s me—Brother Caius.What’s wrong?”
Laban almost knocked him down.Hishead was lowered, the hood of his cassock raised and flapping intohis face.Cai seized his arm to steady them both, and Laban came toa choking, sobbing halt.“Leave me be!”
“Are you ill?”
“No.You don’t have to tendme.Just let me go.”
“Where?The last man I letgo strung himself up in the church.”
“Oh, if I could be so braveas that… No, Caius.”Laban doubled up, coughing.“I’m not going tohell with Benedict.”
“You don’t believe Ben’s inhell.When Aelfric wanted him buried away from his brethren—youhelped stop that, didn’t you?”
