“I did, but it was a gift from the abbot when I took over the sisters’ community, a symbol of my new office.”
“He seems not to have deprived himself either,” I said sourly.
“And why should he? He is the abbot, not one of the monachi. His station requires him to attend councils and feasts. You cannot command respect in tattered rags. Besides, he comes from a rich family.”
I knew one beggar, his clothes soiled and smelly, whom a king raised high, but I decided not to mention it. Such would seem as bragging, and I had nothing to brag about.
“What bothers me, Rhiannon, is that Coroticus has only recently begun adorning himself with such trinkets. And now he is sharing his bounty with you.”
She stared at me then, with the most intent look I had ever received from anyone. My neck and forehead grew wet, and it was not from the heat of the fire. “I have not bedded Coroticus, and I do not intend to, though he would welcome it most heartily. He is too much the politician for my taste, and one should never find one’s pleasure too close to home.”
I recoiled, but slightly. I did not expect such candor. “What of your vow of chastity?”
“That is not required, only suggested.”
“Strongly suggested.” I was thinking of Guinevere and her expulsion from the same community this woman now headed. Obviously, many things had changed with Rhiannon’s arrival.
Rhiannon shrugged at my comment. She seemed to look away, but I saw her eyes flit back and forth as she furtively watched me. But Coroticus had risen and stolen my attention.
“My lord Arthur, episcopus Patrick, lords and lady.” He added that last with a smile at Rhiannon. “It is my pleasure to offer this small bounty for your nourishment.”
This “small bounty” was more than Arthur or any lord of the consilium could offer. Yet another puzzling sign of prosperity.
As more delicacies like dates, which must have been shipped in casks from Egypt, and meats were served, the talk turned to taxes and the church’s obligation. Coroticus argued that the church should be exempt from taxes. Arthur asked, simply, why? And with that came talk of Arthur’s church. I sighed. Patrick remained neutral
While this debate, which Lauhiir seemed to observe with great amusement, continued, I watched as one of Arthur’s soldiers slipped quietly beside Bedevere and whispered in his ear. He immediately rose, and without begging Arthur’s leave, strode to the door. I followed, glad to leave the argument at the table behind.
CHAPTER TEN
At the door I saw Illtud, one of Arthur’s leading commanders. A tall, handsome man, with flowing hair somewhere between red and brown, he had brought two troops of horse at Arthur’s call, though the Rigotamos had just asked for one. Illtud was the kind of officer a general, or a king, needed. He did not hesitate to apply his own common sense to his orders. And caution was his byword. If Arthur asked for one troop, he would bring two.
Now, his copper hair was darkened by sweat and a look of concern marked his face. “Malgwyn, ’tis good to see you.” He nodded to me, but he was clearly distracted and turned his attention to Bedevere immediately. “The last patrol has still not returned. I seek permission to send another ten-man patrol to seek them out.”
“More than just this bothers you, Illtud,” I interrupted. “What else is there? Why do you worry about a late patrol so?”
“My men are trained to send a rider back to report on their status. If they have bedded down for the night, one of them would have been dispatched back here. But no rider has returned. The area they searched had only a couple of villages where the old monachus could hide. Two hours and their search should have been completed. They should have been the first patrol back, Malgwyn!”
I saw then Illtud’s concern. A hunt for an old monachus would have hardly gotten the soldiers’ blood up. They would probably have been looking for a reason to give up the search to return to the relative comforts of the abbey, not camping in the forest.
Among Mordred’s troops or David’s or even Lauhiir’s, such a mission would be an excuse to raid the local villages. But Arthur’s men were of a different breed and training. Those of his men who committed crimes against the people were treated harshly; whippings, or even execution, if the crimes were serious enough. Arthur believed that if the people saw the army as their protector, their defender, then they would welcome them, support them. He would have to worry little about the people selling information to his enemies.
Bedevere frowned. “Go. Send the patrol, but make it twenty. I want a large enough body to fight off most any threat they might meet. And send a rider to Castellum Artorius. Muster two, no three, more troops and hurry them here. I will advise the Rigotamos of this.”
Frustration painted the air with a dark hue. Beyond the door, I saw the faint glow of mist settling in around the hills that marked Ynys-witrin. We were frustrated, the three of us, because we knew that something was amiss, but we could not fathom it. Not then. Not yet.
Illtud disappeared into the blackening night, and Bedevere and I turned back to the feasting hall, the air inside flavored with chicken, pork, garum, and a light veneer of wood smoke.
From the way that Arthur and Coroticus were avoiding each other, I assumed that their discussion on the cruciform church had concluded in its usual fashion. Patrick and Merlin were head to head in some conversation that had them both laughing. It was not often that Merlin encountered someone as old as he. Despite his fatherlike closeness to Arthur, Merlin had never embraced the Christ. Like me, he was not much for any religion. For me it was part reluctance to accept something I could not see and part a belief that I was unworthy, ever unworthy.
I rejoiced to see them have such fun. Merlin had been haunted by digestive problems for a fortnight, but he seemed good on this eve. Patrick had the problems of the world bundled on his back. His life’s work was to be judged over the next days against an accident of youth. One of Merlin’s strengths was his charm, his unending supply of stories and inventions. Immersed in them, Patrick was able to forget his own troubles for a few hours.
A hand touched my thigh when I resumed my chair. I turned and saw a familiar look in Rhiannon’s eyes. Despite everything, I wanted this woman. Were she a witch, she could have no more securely enchanted me.
“What of the search for Gwilym?”
I wanted to tell her of the missing patrol, but I knew that would be an error. “Nothing yet. I’m sure we will have him by morning.”
“I still do not believe he killed Elafius,” she repeated with conviction.
“I would like to believe you, Rhiannon. He did not seem a murderer to me when I spoke with him. Aye, he is a likable man. But the facts point in his direction.”
“At least some of them,” she conceded. As if to emphasize her point, she retrieved an intricately carved bone pin from her gown and secured her hair. I thought it ornate for a sister. Those entrancing eyes caught mine and she smiled. “Another gift from the abbot.”
I raised my eyebrows. “He is generous.”
She lowered her head with a wicked smile. “He is hopeful.”
The chuckle burst out in spite of myself. She had a spirit that I could learn to love.
“Are you sleeping here?”
“No,” I said. “I will stay in Elafius’s cell. Perhaps his walls will speak to me.”
At that moment, Patrick rose to speak. A smile still marked his lips. “I wish to thank you, lord abbot, for your hospitality during my visit. My short sojourn here has shown me that the reports of Pelagianism have been overexaggerated. While there may be some among the monachi who favor the teachings of Pelagius, I find that the church will be pleased with how the way to salvation is being taught here.”
Coroticus smiled and nodded once to acknowledge the compliment. I wished that young Gildas were there to hear the unspoken reprimand. But he had been banished to eating with the other monachi, Coroticus’s way of reminding him of his station.
“I am equally pleased to tell
you that I will be reporting to your episcopus that I find Lord Arthur’s election as Rigotamos a hopeful sign that order will soon return to our land. And that the persecution of Christians will stop.”
Although Lauhiir looked as if he had eaten a bad oyster, the others seemed pleased at Patrick’s announcement, even Rhiannon. While I had grown an appreciation for Patrick, I thought it rather pompous for him to make such pronouncements. But then the church seemed to be fertile ground for pomposity.
“And finally, Coroticus has informed me that he has commissioned a proper stone cross to bless Lord Liguessac’s fortress on the Tor. This is a good thing and will bring God’s favor to his efforts.”
Despite his upset stomach, Lauhiir managed a pained smile. I enjoyed his discomfort.
“Our Lord, the Christ, has truly blessed this place. When I depart to confer with Dubricius and Severus at Castellum Marcus—a journey Master Malgwyn will make with me as my counselor—I will have aught but good things to say of this abbey.”
“And poor Elafius?” Coroticus queried, a touch of eagerness in his voice. “What of Malgwyn’s charge here?”
Patrick smiled at the abbot. “Malgwyn has assured me that that affair will be settled on the morn.” I appreciated the sour look Patrick’s reply put on the abbot’s face, and I attempted to smile in return but I doubt that it was convincing. Then was not the time to talk about missing patrols and missing monachi, however.
Moments later, the feast was finished. No late-night drinking bouts for this audience. As we all said our farewells, I felt Rhiannon’s breath on my ear. She leaned in close and whispered, “Leave your door unlatched this eve.” Then, she was gone.
Arthur motioned for me before I could react. “Bedevere has told me of the patrol. What think you of this?”
“I do not know what to think, my lord. I know only that your men are well trained, and that they would not ignore all that they have been taught unless something dire happened. But that is more an informed guess than a true analysis. We must wait for word from your search party.”
“He’s right, Arthur. Let Illtud’s men do their work. The morn may bring answers. I have sent for three more troop of horse.”
Arthur tugged at his beard and nodded in distracted approval. “That is prudent.” He turned to me. “Malgwyn, should this not be resolved tomorrow, you may have to disappoint Patrick.” He raised a gloved hand to stop my protest. “The situation has changed, Malgwyn. If aught has happened to this missing patrol, then I will need you here to help sort it out.”
He was right. For some reason, I reached to my belt and felt comfort at finding my dagger secured there. “I will be in Elafius’s cell tonight, Rigotamos. Perhaps some solitude in his chamber will bring me answers as to his death.”
At that, we parted ways. I trudged back out the front door and headed down a path marked by lit torches toward the dead monachus’s cell.
“Malgwyn!” I heard the cry and looked across the compound. Patrick was seeking me out.
“Yes, episcopus.”
“We should meet early on the morrow and plan our day.”
“Agreed. Sleep well, Patrick.”
“And you, my friend.”
I continued on and entered Elafius’s cell, lighting an oil lamp. It had been straightened some, but nothing had been removed that I could see. The scrolls were stacked neatly on a table now, rather than scattered about the floor. There seemed to be fewer of them though. I ran through them quickly. Those on metallurgy were missing. That was odd. I thought it a bit strange that old Elafius would offer his aid to Lauhiir, but not strange at all that Lauhiir would need help. Mining had fallen by the wayside in the wake of the Roman departure and those with expertise in the different processes of smelting tin, iron, and lead were few.
First Ambrosius and then Arthur had pushed for the reopening of the mines and especially the export of the tin as a way to bring more money into Britannia. Lauhiir’s charge had included revitalizing the tin mining in this region, and Lord Mark had committed to reopening the tin mines near Castellum Marcus. Mark, though, had been reluctant to do so with his son, Tristan, held captive at Castellum Arturius.
I thought of the denarius, but as I reached for my pouch I heard the leather hinges on the door creak. A hooded figure slipped in, quickly securing the door behind. Rhiannon.
She slipped easily out of the hooded cloak and laid it on the table, keeping her back to me.
“You have information for me?” I asked, my voice catching in my throat.
“I did not come to trade information, Malgwyn. I came here for you.”
I narrowed my eyes and assumed an indifference that I did not feel. “For me, my lady? I am naught but a servant of the Rigotamos.”
She moved across the room smoothly, touching the furniture lightly, almost as if she were not even aware that she had. After a moment, she turned and gave me the most direct look a woman had ever bestowed on me, her full lips parted just slightly. “You are a man who fears neither God nor man, king nor peasant. I have never met such as you, and I would have you.”
Though I had suspected this, her directness surprised me. “Lady Rhiannon, I have done many things in my life, but bedding a woman pledged to the Christ is not one of them.”
“Are you certain? I am told that you have not always been so honorable in your conquests. Nor is it your family’s habit to hold such vows inviolable.”
Before I knew it, my arm had pinned her to the wall, below her throat. I had no wish to kill her, but this was a lesson she must learn, she had to learn. “You will not speak so of Guinevere. She is a finer woman than any in the land, and I include you!”
But rather than fear in her eyes, I saw laughter and a sparkle in her eye, and I smelled the fresh mint on her breath as a hint of dampness shone on her lip.
And her hands did not push me away, but grasped my tunic and pulled me closer, pulled me tight against her breasts.
And I took her.
The moon was full and pale yellow. I could see it through the cracks in the door. Rhiannon’s smooth body, unmarred by childbirth, lay next to me. I started to make a joke about how little this chamber had been used for such activities, but then I realized that I had no idea about Elafius’s habits.
I felt a strange sadness about Ygerne. My feelings for her had been true. But there would always be the specter of Cuneglas hanging above us, I feared. Rhiannon brought no such burden, but for her leadership among the sisters. Suddenly, I realized that Arthur and I now shared more than just the memory of battles won and lost.
“I must go soon,” Rhiannon said softly, her hand resting on my chest. “It would not do for me to be missing from the women’s community at the day’s first prayer.”
I lifted myself to a sitting position. “Then you’ve picked the wrong night. We have doubled the guard at all entrances to the abbey and across the vallum as well as set a roving patrol. You would be better off to stay here and slip out once people are about their daily routine. Otherwise, all will know that you left here in the middle of the night.”
She smiled and shook her head. “No. My presence would be missed in our community. Besides, I have ways to get across the vallum unseen.”
Part of me wanted to ask her about those ways, but another, stronger part was afraid of the answer.
Holding a fur around her, she stood and retrieved her gown. “You are a good man, Malgwyn. I would see you again. I could fall . . .” But her sentence remained unfinished as she turned away.
I rose and caressed her neck. “We have much to learn about each other. Do not say things that you might regret later.”
She looked up into my face then and a soft smile grew on hers. “Who said that I would ever have cause to regret any words I chose to speak?”
“Belligerent to the end, my Rhiannon.” And I pulled her back against me.
“I like the way you say that, Malgwyn.” Then she spun away. “But I have no time to show my appreciation.”
&nbs
p; A flurry of robes and gowns later and Rhiannon was dressed and ready to leave. She quickly kissed my cheek and slipped through the door without another word.
Twenty-four hours before, I would not have guessed how the day would end. Rhiannon was the first woman I had been with since my brother’s death. Indeed, she was the first woman to attract my attention, besides Ygerne. Most women I saw held no interest for me, nor I for them. A man missing an arm or leg or hand was deemed of little value in our world; indeed, some believed them cursed. The women that I had pleasured myself with usually did so for the price of a wineskin or a cheap bauble. I wanted nothing more than the pleasure of the flesh, so I received no more. I never believed a good woman would show any interest in me and so I showed none for them.
Except for Ygerne. But I had been fond of her long before I lost my arm. Now, I wondered why the sister had so easily captured my attention. She was outspoken, independent, and a woman of unusual strength, much like Ygerne. But there was a lust to her that was also unusual.
As I lay back amongst the furs, still damp from our ardor and still laden with our scents, I decided not to question the path my life had taken. When the morning arrived, I would have more on my mind than Rhiannon, and it would be some time before I might have the opportunity to explore that path again.
My life was about to end! That was the first fleeting thought as I felt the hand on my shoulder. But I swung my left leg even as I pulled the dagger from its hiding place amongst the furs. In seconds, I was atop my intruder with my knife at his throat.
“Malgwyn!” It was Bedevere, his voice strained from the tip of my blade.
I spun around and got off his chest, sitting back on my haunches. “Do not assume, Bedevere, that because I am lacking an arm that I also lack the ability to defend myself.” My breath came in deep draughts from the fright. “What has happened?”
My old friend sat up and rubbed his throat. “I will not make the same mistake again,” he croaked. “There has been news, Malgwyn, of the missing patrol.”
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