“That the secret wasn’t even inthe book.That it was in the binding.”Cai drew a rough breath.“Oh, I have failed him.My wisdomdidn’tgrow.I’ve tried all I can to be like him,but…”
“Hush.Who could be likehim?Who could ever be like you?Each of us has his path.They runclose together sometimes—for life, if we are fortunate—but theynever cross.Do you understand?”
“No,” Cai said miserably.He was faint and sick, the hole in his side aching fiercely.Fendisentangled his hand and put an arm round his shoulders instead,and Cai leaned gratefully into his warmth.“No.”
“Poor boy.You’re sick, andI have kept you talking out here in the cold.I must go now andbe…” He paused, gathering up his staff and using it to push ontohis feet.“Aedar, Bishop of Hexham, it seems.Understand this onething only.I love my faith and my church, and shadows are fallingupon it.Only men like you can keep a light of knowledge burningtill the darkness has passed.Will you try?”
“I’ll try.I don’t knowhow, but…”
“It’s enough.You won’t behindered by any more abbots from Canterbury, I believe.These northlands are considered beyond salvation now, and Rome won’t throwgood men after bad.Fara is yours.”He straightened up, lifting hiscrozier high so its ivory curve caught the light.“I will bless youand your brethren now.They’ve waited long enough.Er, Caius, thatboy…”
“Which one, sir?Eyulf?”
“The one who seems weak inhis wits, unless he knows some benefit to eating sand… You shouldbring him to me.Not now, but the next time we meet.”
“Will there be a nexttime?”
“Of course.Creation beingeternal, all things must happen in time.”He raised his free hand,extending it towards the gathered men.“Benedicat vos omnipotens Deus, Pater,et Filius, et Spiritus Sanctus…”
Cai closed his eyes and tried to takethe blessing in good part.Creation might be eternal, but he wasonly flesh.With a few exceptions, men did not live long in theharsh north.He had seen more than twenty summers.Broccus, barelysixteen years older, was considered an old man, and Cai knew thewound draining strength from him now would take its toll in yearsat the end of his life.Perhaps that was the nature of theblessing.Cai was certain he had seen his finest days, his hottest,sweetest hours.
He opened his eyes and found twentygolden ones staring back at him.A flock of the black-and-whiteducks who haunted the Fara isles had gathered out of nowhere andwaddled close to Addy until they formed a kind of honour guard,their faces at once comical and solemn.One was so close that itsbeak had gone under his robe.
Addy finished his blessing.He lookeddown and gave a groan of exasperation, as if this was a regularproblem for him.“Ah, you fools—found me out here, have you?”Hegathered up his hem and gently shooed out the intruder.He turnedand began to walk away, and they followed him, sea-gilded rumpsswinging.“You fools,” he continued, addressing them as if no oneelse existed, his voice fading into the breeze.“Didn’t I tell you?I am not really going away.Or, if I am, I will be back.If not, Inever was here, or I always was and always will be—sometimes Ican’t remember which it is.”He reached the water’s edge.The kingin the ship looked up eagerly, and the soldiers jumped down toassist him, but he hitched his robes up and waded out alone, theAddy ducks swimming in his wake.
Cai sent his brethren back totheir work.At first he felt like an impostor, as he always didwhen ordering men older, better, longer-serving than himself, butthen despite his pain and weariness, his voice firmed.These north landsare considered beyond salvation now.Perhaps he need not be so afraid, if Farawas already lost.Perhaps the lost souls who lived there could doworse than him as a leader.They went without a murmur, as if hiscommands were what they expected and desired.
They hadn’t seemed to expect him todismiss Fen too, any more than they’d intruded on their privacy inthe makeshift shelter.Perhaps they thought an abbot could do as hewished, keep whoever he wanted close to him.Pushing back thatbitter thought, Cai went back to Fen’s side.He settled on the sandbeside him and turned the precious casket in his hands.He and Fenwere alone.It was time to open up the treasure of Fara.He turnedthe box so that its hasps were facing Fen.“Will you?I’m almostafraid.”
Fen smiled, shook his head.“No.Thisis your abbot Theo’s gift to you.”
“The man I once knew wasready to kill for this.”
“The man you once knewwould have killed for just one of its jewels.”
Cai looked up.Fen was gazing at himthrough strands of windblown hair, his eyes bright with sorrow andmischief.In some ways he was transfigured—in others just the same,unapologetically the man he had always been.With unsteady fingers,Cai unfastened the clasps.No fleck of rust could corrode themagnificent gold, and the box opened easily.
By contrast, the book inside wasplain.Its cover, though made of good leather, was worn thin inpatches that corresponded to fingermarks.How many hands must havelifted and opened it, over how many centuries, to wear away thatthick hide?Lifting it out, Cai found how easily his own fingersfitted into the same gaps.Yes, the cover was almost worn away.Adirty leather strip was wrapped round the whole book to prevent itfrom falling apart.It was only loosely knotted—cradling the volumein one arm, he undid the strip and let it fall.A little sand wentwith it, skittering in the breeze for long enough to show its deepred tint, then flying off to vanish in the pale north-lands gold.Desert sand… Cai remembered now that Theo had talked of thehump-backed horses depicted on the casket’s sides, not horses atall but beasts of burden calledcameli.Maybe this book was a bestiary, an account ofdesert travels, or…
No.Nothing to do with palm trees orbeasts.The first page was a diagram, beautifully laid out andlabelled—first in a strange foreign scrawl, and then in crispLatin—of the three heavenly bodies.Sol, Terra, Luna.Sun, Earthand Moon—with the sun at the centre, and the moon going stepdancearound and around the round Earth.The next page showed a man inexotic robes kneeling at the foot of a building such as Cai hadnever seen before, nothing but four triangular faces that met at anapex.The man had a compass like Theo’s, and he was busy takingmeasurements from this apex to a brilliant overhangingstar.
Cai closed the book.He couldn’t seefor tears.Fen’s arms went round him from behind, and he clutchedhim, hard enough to bruise, still keeping the volume held tenderlyclose to his chest.“Fen, it’s Theo’s book.The one he was copyingbit by bit from memory.”
“TheGospel of Science?”
“Yes.Oh, God—all hislearning.All here.”
“I’m glad.Is it what youimagined?”
“A thousand times more.ButI still don’t understand.”Cai struggled round, leaned his browagainst Fen’s.It was a gesture of tenderness from the earliestdays of their short time together, when words had almost failed,when two heads were better than one, when words and thoughts alikewere both about to melt into a kiss.“I don’t know how it can bringpeace.”
“Have you looked into thebinding?Theo said the answer was there.”
“Yes.Not in the book butin the binding… It scarcely has any left.The pages were all heldtogether by…”
The dirty leather ribbon was stillfluttering on the sand.The wind was about to take it.Fen shot outa hand and pinned it down, catching its tail at the last instant.“This?”
“Yes.It was tied round it,binding it all together.”Realisation hit.“Oh, Fen.Thebinding.”
