by Teri Barnett
Dylan turned his head and saw it too. “Be gone from here!” he shouted at the raven. He grabbed Maere’s arm and gave her a hard shake. “We have to go. Now.”
She looked at him. Didn’t he understand? In the course of a single evening, the abbey she had loved and felt secure in had been transformed into a hateful place of accusations and mistrust. Maere began to cry, desperate to be away from the maddening noise and the sight of the sisters, frantically trying to douse the fire and save the chapel. But Maere was still unable to take a single step.
Seelie touched Maere’s shoulder, making her jump. She looked at her friend through tears. “You must go with him,” Seelie said. “You know what awaits you here. You cannot stay.”
“But what of you? You’re in danger as well, now that they know.”
“I’m not afraid.” Seelie smiled, a little. “When I died that night, I saw Heaven. It’s a peaceful place and I will return with joy in my heart when my time comes.” A sister jostled past, a bucket of water in hand, and tossed it at a smoldering altar cloth. Shouts and screams echoed throughout the chapel. “The fire spreads quickly.” Seelie hugged Maere. “Now, off with you. He’s a good man. I can feel it. He’ll keep you safe.” Seelie gave her a shove and Maere’s legs finally began to move.
“Thank you, Seelie,” Dylan said. He grabbed Maere around the waist as she stepped forward. Dragging her beside him, he shoved his way past the sisters and Father John, stopping only when Abbess Magrethe blocked their way. In her hand was the iron processional pole, the banner hanging from it was stained and bloodied. On the steps of the altar, at her feet, lay the monk. His head was bashed on one side and his eyes stared sightlessly at the simple vaulted ceiling.
“I’ve loved her like my own and would protect her with my life,” the abbess said, looking at Maere. “There is no evil in you, my child. This I believe.” She nodded toward Bertrand’s lifeless body. “I have fulfilled my vow to protect you and dealt with that evil man. He can no longer hurl vile accusations at you. Seelie was not the first girl he attacked. And he will never be able to harm another girl again.”
“What about Seelie?” Maere asked. “Will you watch over her?”
“I promise no harm will come to her.”
Tears ran down Magrethe’s cheeks as she reached for Maere and held her in a tight embrace.
The abbess looked up at Dylan. “Take her far from this place and keep her safe for me.”
Dylan nodded, and pulled Maere away from the abbess and toward the side door. As he pushed it open and directed Maere outside, she turned for one last look at the people who had been her family for ten years. Sisters were scrambling back and forth, hauling pans of water and tossing them at the burning drapery and wood statues while Father John waved his arms and shouted. Magrethe stood serenely where they had left her.
Chapter 14
On the distant horizon, with the setting moon behind them, a band of men on horseback approached Saint Columba’s Abbey. It was still cool this late May morning and a fine mist rose from the land. The horses’ and riders’ breath mixed together, billowing out and blending with the fog. At times the animals were concealed as they made their way east, appearing as if the riders floated on the very air itself. And so it seemed to the occupants of the abbey when they first spied the men emerging from the surrounding forest.
An alarm sounded from behind the fortified stone walls as the riders came closer to the grounds. Vikings! The loud iron bell pealed unceasingly, mixing with the shouts of women and men barking orders.
“Damn,” Eugis cursed under his breath. He supposed he should have expected as much, surrounded as he was by the fair-haired men of the north. He had hoped that Glastonbury was far enough inland to be unaware of the tales of the savage acts performed by the Viking raiders. And in this hope, he had allowed his driving urge to retrieve Maere to cloud his judgment. He sighed. It was too late for regrets now. He’d have to make the best of this situation.
Eugis drew in the reins, slowing his mount as he and his companions neared the large iron and oak gate. He motioned with his hand and the escort hung back while Eugis rode forward. “Greetings,” he called.
“Go away, Northmen!” came a man’s voice from within. “This is a place of God. Take your heathen ways from here. We want no trouble from you.” Despite the commanding words, the voice was shaky.
“We’re not here as raiders. If you know of the Vikings, then you know they prefer the easy prey of monasteries along the coastline,” Eugis said with a smile, in case someone was watching. He wasn’t given to easy friendliness, though there were times, such as this, where he tried to affect a gentle nature. “These men here are in my employ. We mean no harm to any of you.”
“What could possibly bring you to Saint Columba’s if not looting and murder? We know the tales of those men you ride with. You might be a Briton, but you will not take us for fools!” Behind the wall, several men joined in shouting their agreement.
Eugis shifted on his saddle, renewed urgency threatening his careful composure. “I have come to visit with Abbess Magrethe.”
There was a long silence before a man answered. “She is no longer with us.”
Eugis looked sharply at the gate. “No longer with you? Has she been transferred to another position?” The forced smile quickly disappeared. “Tell me, where might I find her?”
Voices rose from beyond the walls of the abbey as the residents argued among themselves. Finally, an older man replied, “You’ll find her nowhere on this earth. Magrethe is with the Lord our God. She died just last evening in the chapel fire. May God have mercy on her soul.”
Dead? Eugis leaned back in his saddle and thought of the proper-born abbess with her commanding presence. He hadn’t seen her since bringing Maere to the abbey. Images of that night, so long ago, filled his thoughts. After he’d killed Manfred, Rhea, and Fox, he’d carried the young girl off and hidden her away with Magrethe, filling the nun’s head with notions of Northmen and murder and pagan rituals in order to entice her to take on the child. He remembered that day clearly and the story he’d concocted to convince the abbess…
“Poor Maere’s family was lost at sea during a Viking raid,” Euris said to Magrethe. He looked heavenward and dabbed at the corners of his eyes delicately with his little finger. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the woman’s finely carved golden oak desk. “She is the sole survivor of the attack.”
Magrethe raised her thin, ethereal form out of the tapestry-covered chair. Holding the skirt of her bark brown habit in one hand, her worn prayer beads in the other, she approached the girl. She walked slowly all around her as Maere stood perfectly still, her eyes focused straight ahead. Magrethe slipped the beads around her own neck, arranging them neatly beneath the long black cowl, then lifted a lock of Maere’s dark red hair. She let it sift through her fingers. She touched the girl’s shoulder. The child never moved.
The woman crouched and looked into the girl’s expressionless eyes. “Would you like to tell me what happened?” she asked, a warm, encouraging smile on her faintly lined face.
Maere continued to stare, blinking only once or twice, while the nun waited for a reply.
“Does she not speak?” Magrethe finally asked Eugis as she straightened.
Eugis stood and motioned for the abbess to follow him to the other side of the room. His boots scuffed against the polished stone floor as he walked, the only sound to be heard in the abbess’s chamber. When they were out of earshot of the girl, Eugis answered. “Not since the attack.” He tugged at his dark blue tunic, then tucked a strand of brown hair behind a long ear. “As her only living relative, the responsibility of her welfare has fallen to me. I am not married so, naturally, the first thought that came to mind was to have her placed in your fine convent here in Glastonbury. The piety and devotion of your sisters is known throughout southern Britain.”
Mag
rethe smiled and nodded. She folded her hands beneath her mantle as she continued to listen.
“Though there are a few things of which I must warn you.” He took a step nearer the abbess. “She is given to the telling of fanciful stories.” He glanced at Maere. “Of course, that was before the accident. But once she finds her voice again, I imagine she’ll bend your ear with many a tale. It’s nothing you need to be concerned with and she’ll no doubt outgrow the inclination.” While he spoke, Eugis stroked his beard. “And I think it best you are aware that my brother’s family had lived in the wild region of Tintagel.”
“The land of pagans and Devil worshippers,” Magrethe said, then set her mouth in a firm line.
“There are a growing number of Christians in the area, but,” Eugis said, “unfortunately, Maere’s mother and father—Rhea and Manfred—were not among them. They practiced the pagan ways.”
Aghast, Magrethe’s hand flew to her mouth. She looked at the child again and shook her head. “You’re telling me she knows nothing of the Lord our God?”
“I fear not. I cannot tell you how many times I tried to get my brother to accept the sacrament of baptism.” He shrugged and tossed his hands in the air. “But, alas, he’d have none of it. Now, he has died with nary a chance of seeing Heaven.”
“It seems to me our Lord has guided you wisely, sir.” The abbess turned and walked back to her desk. Perching lightly on the edge of the chair, she said, “We at St. Columba’s are always eager to accept potential novices. There can never be enough serving in His name.” She made a short sign of the cross over her breast. “Of course, there is the matter of a dowry.”
“Say no more.” Eugis reached into the purple sash tied neatly around his waist and extracted a bulging leather pouch. The coins clinked as he set it on the desk. “Are there any other requirements for admission?”
“No. The dowry will cover whatever the girl will need,” Magrethe said, reaching for the money as she spoke. Eugis immediately placed his hand down over it.
“However, I have one special requirement of my own,” he said.
The nun raised an eyebrow. “What is this requirement?”
“Maere is very dear to me,” he said. “I want you personally to make certain no man touches her. When she is eighteen, I will return to claim her.”
“Claim her?” Her eyes narrowed.
“What I meant to say is: I’m certain that by then I will have arranged a marriage for the girl. No doubt her betrothed won’t want to wait any longer past the age of maturity than that.” Eugis buffed his nails on his sleeve and looked at the abbess.
“I understand.” She shifted again. “Now, you say there is no other family?”
Eugis shook his head. “None.”
“And no betrothed at this time?”
He leaned forward. “There was, but he’s been killed as well. Most unfortunate.” He sighed and leaned back. “I don’t mind telling you, finding a betrothed is the least of my concerns at the moment. For now, I wish only to see the child safe and protected.”
Magrethe folded her hands in front of her and nodded “Considering the circumstances you have described, I will admit her.” Her eyes met his. “And await your instructions concerning her future…”
Eugis had left that night with a smile on his face, knowing Maere would be kept safe for him, untouched. And now that he was here, he’d not let something as minor as Magrethe’s death stand in his way. “What of Maere cu Llwyr? I am her uncle, Eugis cu Llwyr, and I would have a word with her.”
Another argument from behind the walls. This was growing tiresome, indeed. “Is there no one in charge of this blasted place?” Eugis interrupted.
“That girl has gone as well,” came the solemn reply.
“Gone? Did you say gone? Where did she go?” Eugis barked. When no answer came, he sidled his horse, reached across the large animal, and pounded on the heavy gate. “I’ve had enough of talking through wood and iron! Let me in!”
A small portal opened, just large enough to reveal an old man’s face, blackened with soot. “Not likely, considering your escort.” The man snorted as he looked past Eugis, to the Vikings lined up neatly behind him. “I am Father John, the head of this monastery. Not one of you will be allowed in here. Unlike some of our brothers, we are not averse to defending ourselves.” He glanced up and Eugis followed his gaze. Several priests were assembled at the top of the wall, bows in hand, arrows pointed and ready to fly.
“Consider yourself lucky, man,” John continued. “The young woman you call your niece was tainted with the Devil’s blood. We’re glad to be rid of her.”
“I beg your pardon?” A shiver ran the length of Eugis’s spine and the hair on his arms prickled. “Did you say ‘tainted’?”
“Raised a girl from the dead, she did. I saw the results of her mischief with my own eyes,” the priest said. “Now, I’ll say nothing more to you. Take the Northmen and leave.” With these words, Father John slammed the small portal shut.
Raised a girl from the dead? Is the priest certain? Even in his strangest imaginings, Eugis hadn’t dreamt that such a power could be granted. He spun the horse around to face the men behind him. One of the northerners rode forward.
“What is wrong?” the rider asked.
Eugis spat on the ground. “They say Abbess Magrethe is dead, Jorvik. And that my niece Maere is gone as well.”
Eugis called back, over his shoulder to Father John. “One last question, then we’ll be on our way, kind priest.”
“You test my patience, man. I’ll allow it only if it means you will truly leave this time.”
“I swear,” Eugis said. On my dead brother’s body. “Do you know where the girl might have gone?”
“All I can tell you is that she left with her betrothed. Which you would well know if you are whom you say you are, since he bore a document with your family’s mark on it. I saw it myself.”
Betrothed?! The word screamed inside Eugis’ head. What mischief is this? “Please, sir.” He gritted his teeth together. “You must tell me. Did this man have a name?”
“So you don’t know, do you?” Father John laughed sharply. “I’m done with your questions. I have dead to tend to.”
Eugis turned the horse and approached the gate again. Ten years of waiting for this day had worn his patience thin. “You will tell me, old man, or I will order my men to knock this gate down and kill all of you,” he roared. “You have my word on this.”
The small door swung open again. Father John eyed him, and then said, “It was a strange young man. Said his name was Dylan mac Connall. And like I’ve already told you, he bore betrothal papers, with your family mark on them.”
Eugis’s head reeled. He doubled over, sending his gray hair spilling over his blue eyes as he struggled to catch his breath. Impossible! My own men killed the boy all those years ago. Could it be an imposter? He searched his mind for some explanation but could find none. No, it had to be Fox’s son. He knew this in his gut, knew it with his entire being. Somehow, the boy had survived the attack.
Chapter 15
Eugis and his men made their way carefully through the thick brambles and back to the clearing where they had spent the previous night. The riders dismounted and left the horses, loosely tied, to forage in a patch of tall grass.
One of the men began working a stick against a rock beside the pile of ashes left from their dinner fire the night before. As the wood began to smoke his comrade sprinkled dried bits of grass on the stone. In a few moments, a small fire was started. They placed more grass and twigs on the flames, feeding it until it was burning well enough to accept larger logs.
The remaining riders sat in a circle on the dew-covered ground and began to remove bits of dried meat and hard bread from the skin pouches slung over their shoulders. Eugis rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them from the chill that had o
vertaken his body since leaving Columba’s. When he finally felt consoled against the damp air, he waved his hand, motioning for Jorvik to follow him as he walked away from the others.
The Viking acknowledged the gesture with a slight nod. He stuffed the last bit of meat into his mouth and—with surprising ease for one as large as he—unfolded his war-hardened body from the ground and approached Eugis. He pulled his dark blonde hair away from his steely eyes and tied it with a leather thong. He didn’t speak, but only watched the older man.
“We have to find her,” Eugis said, his back to the other man. “I’ve waited too long for this. I tell you, I won’t have her taken by another.” His voice grew louder. “She will be mine. Her powers will be mine.” He turned to face Jorvik. Eugis’s blue eyes were blazing, his face contorted in anger.
“What will you do?” Jorvik asked, his voice steady, his expression blank.
Eugis laughed and some of his stress disappeared. “You Northmen do have a talent for getting to the point, don’t you? No mincing of words, just pure action.”
“Our companion, Skuld, is a rynstr. We can ask him to cast the runes. If the landvaettir in this area are friendly, they will position the stones just so and tell us the path the pair you seek are traveling.” Jorvik shrugged. “Of course, you can’t always trust the land spirits. If they’ve become offended for some reason, they could send us in circles.” He rested his hand on the carved bone hilt of a dagger tucked in his leather waistband. “What say you to this?”
“I have no need of Skuld.” Eugis rubbed his lightly bearded chin. “I know Dylan. If indeed it’s him, I would venture he would take Maere back to their village.” Eugis’s voice trailed off as a raven shrieked in the distance, its loud discordant song filling the forest air. The trees leaned forward as the wind increased and their light green leaves brushed against the ground. A flurry of birds rose overhead, fleeing the safety of their perches. The raven screamed again, this time much closer, before landing on a boulder several feet away from the two men.