Fen broke into laughter.“Perhaps theythrew him out.He’s got a girl with him.”
The girl was leading Addy by the hand.The old man was following her serenely.The sun dipped down betweentwo bands of cloud and threw one final bright lance across Fara andthe sea.Cai’s distance vision was no match for Fen’s, but suddenlythe whole scene crystallised.She was wearing a green robe.Herhair blazed around her like an aura, and in this light Cai couldn’ttell if it was fair or…
Fair or white.“Fen, that’sDanan.”
“What—your old salamanderfrom the fire?”
Salamander, witch, hare.Traveller byunknown tunnels beneath the sea and currents of air in the night.“She’s wearing all her jewellery.She made me trade for it over theyears, but she never put it on, just hid it like a dragon in acave.Do you see her earrings?”
“Yes, but…”
“Those are coral flowers inRoman gold.”
“It’s her daughter, then.Her granddaughter.”
She doesn’t have one, as far asI know.But the lives of our fellow souls are strange to us, mostof them hidden like a dragon’s gold, and perhaps Fen isright.Caileaned his brow on Fen’s shoulder, and shuddered in pleasure as thegrip around him tightened.“What is she doing withAddy?”
“I don’t know, but he seemspleased about it.Look, they’ve seen us.”
The girl raised her free hand.It wasgleaming from wrist to elbow with Danan’s horde of bracelets, andher smile was just as bright.Addy’s too, when he turned and wavedto them.They were standing at the foot of the largest green mound.Slowly, as if in a dream, Cai lifted his hand and wavedback.
“Cai, look at all theseals.”
“Seals?Where?”
“All over the rocks there.Ithought theywerethe rocks.Is it a haul-out time?”
“No.The tide’s wrong.God—listen to them.”
The seals began to sing.Hundreds ofthem—grey, mottled, inky-wet black, from smallest pups tomountainous grand-dams—were congregated on the rocks of Fara.Theytipped up their sleek heads.The noise that rose up should havebeen a raucous clatter, huffing and barking, echoing off thecliffs.Instead it took flight on the wind and whirled up to fillthe dusk from sea to zenith like a mermaid’s song of worship to thesky.And when Cai looked back to find Danan and Addy, they weregone.
Chapter Twenty-One
In the dead of winter, a kingcame to Fara.The first Cai knew of it, he was standing in Cai’sstudy, a puzzled frown quirking his fair brows.Cai rubbed hiseyes.He glanced down at theGospel of Sciencespread out upon his desk.The candles hadburned low.A sudden dark had come down.
Mortification touched Cai.He hadn’tseen the change from afternoon to twilight.Fen was standing by hischair, a reassuring hand upon his shoulder.Cai had been preparinghis brethren’s lesson for that night.He’d fallen fast asleep overa treatise on how rainbows came out of white light.“Fen…I’msorry.”
“You need your rest.Thisis King Ecgbert of Bernicia, who’s come a great distance to seeyou.Your Majesty, this is Abbot Caius of Fara.”
Perhaps Cai was dreaming.He could seeprisms and bands of coloured light in water still.Fen’s quietcourtesy was perfect, all the more so for the uncompromising firethat lay beneath it, but Cai couldn’t get used to his own title.And other than a dream, there was no explanation for thegolden-haired vision in front of him.He took the best breath hecould and stood up.Fen knew better than to aid him unless heasked, but his warmth was at Cai’s shoulder, a kind of exteriorstrength held in trust.He rested his hands on the desk.“I’mhonoured by your visit, sire.And at a great loss to account forit.But please, sit by the fire.Have you been offered food anddrink?”
“Your assistant has askedfor hot mead to be brought.Will you come and sit also?I wish tospeak to you.”
Cai could make the walk from hisdesk to the circle of chairs round the fire.The room wasn’t large,nothing like Fara’s old scriptorium, and different in its function.Cai called it his study, but all were welcome here.It was a kindof roundhouse, built in half-Celtic, half-Dane Lands style.A fireburned in the centre, and Cai taught his brethren and the villagersin the nimbus of its comfortable warmth.It had risen in the spaceof a week, to the sound of conflicting Saxon andvikingrworksongs.
The king had taken a seat, his coronetglimmering, blue and scarlet garments exotic in the firelight.Caisettled near to him, careful not to wince, smiling at Fen to comeand sit at his side.
“I had thought to haveaudience with you alone, Abbot Caius.”
Cai shrugged.The assumptions ofmen—even kings—were so much dust to him now, cobwebs in the wind.“This is Fenrisulfr.You may speak as freely before him as tomyself.”
Ecgbert raised one eyebrow.“He isAlexander too?”
Yes, except that thisHephaistion could never have been spared to rule in Asia on hisown.Cairemembered Theo’s stories, and how the younger monks would weep atthe tales of their separation.
Fen came and sat, his face composed,eyes glimmering with amusement.Ecgbert looked them over, plainlytrying to work them out.Fen was in his cassock—every inch a monk,and yet somehow every inch a splendid Viking too.
“He is my friend andcompanion—my most valued helpmeet.Now, tell me what has brought aking to this lonely place.”
