The Monk (Prince Ciaran th Damned Book 3)

by Ruari McCallion

  “My Lord,” I bowed briefly, “Abbott Cedd has been taken seriously ill and cannot continue his duties. I am the reserve translator, which Bishop Agilbert will require in order to understand proceedings.” Oswy’s eyebrows rose in query. So? “I’m also the healer of our group. May I ask you in your goodness to suspend proceedings until I have had the chance to examine my brother closely and prescribe treatment for him?” Oswy regarded me closely.

  “What is the abbot’s incapacity?” he asked firmly, and loudly enough for those nearby to hear. All, including Wilfrid and Agilbert, leaned forward to hear the reply. “Excessive fasting?” I didn’t smile.

  “No, sir,” I said seriously. “It’s more complicated, and I need time to find out exactly what ails him.” My level gaze met the King’s penetrating stare. Oswy could tell that he would get no more out of me in a public forum. He stood and addressed the crowd.

  “Due to the indisposition of Abbott Cedd, this Synod is suspended for the rest of the morning.” To me he spoke quietly, “Find out the cause and report to me in my chambers in no more than an hour. I will expect definite answers.” I bowed acknowledgement and stepped aside as the King swept out. “Guards! Clear the chapel of the crowd!” he called, and the guards set to with a will. A group of four monks from the monastery had arrived with a stretcher and had placed it on the floor beside Cedd, who looked as if he was about to pull himself on to it.

  “No!” I cried, “Cedd, no, you must not move yourself at all. It will cause you more harm. Brothers, lift him carefully - very carefully - and put him on the stretcher, then take him as gently as you possibly can to - where is he going?” I was told that a cell had been made ready in the infirmary. “Good. I’ll be along directly. I have to get my bag and medicines.” They did as they were instructed and I looked around for something I wanted to examine - and there it was. The cup that had been so thoughtfully provided for Cedd. It was lying on its side, under his chair and all the liquid had drained out of it. I stowed it away under my robe and followed the stretcher bearers out of the chapel and into the yard, where the crowd still milled about in confusion and curiosity. The words ‘a judgement from God: it is God’s message’ could be heard here and there. I tried to locate the source but it was impossible. A way was cleared and the bearers proceeded slowly, as instructed, but unimpeded. I went off at a run to my sleeping quarters and collected my bag.

  I retrieved the cup in the dark and quiet of our dormitory, settled myself down, closed my eyes to calm myself and then took a deep sniff, held it, and considered the aromas I experienced.

  Cedd’s hand. Cedd was distinctive, not unpleasant. A little sweet, which indicated an over-long fast. Probably when he was granted the land at Lastingham. No more fasting for him until he was fully fit.

  A short sniff. Wood, from the beaker itself.

  Another sniff. There was a particular scent that was in the stones hereabout, and it was detectable, quite noticeable.

  Sniff. Berries, old, last year’s store. And apples. The flavouring for the cordial.

  Sniff again. Gorse. Blossoms would have fallen into the stream from which the water had been drawn.

  Sniff. There was the scent of honeysuckle and briar, strong scents. They gave the water a more pleasant taste but I felt they’d been added to cover something else. Sniff.

  Sniff, and sniff again. Something else, something that jarred with the others. A tall plant came to mind. Sage green. Furry stem. Some purple. Angular, pointed leaves. Small, angular flowers. Like stars in the night sky, bunched together, and bunched again.

  Hemlock!

  I shoved the cup back in my robe, grabbed my bag of medicines, ran to the infirmary and was directed to a small room at the end of the corridor. Aeldred and Aeldwin were there; the younger of the two seemed to be complaining about being ejected from his accommodation. His superior was trying to calm him, ineffectually.

  “There is a sick man in there. His need is greater than that of a fit young novice,” I said sternly as I rushed towards them. Aeldwin opened his mouth to speak, saw who it was, and shut it like a trap. I brushed past and closed the door behind me. Cedd lay on the bed, still looking confused. Colman and Chad were making him comfortable.

  “Anselm! You’re here,” Cedd exclaimed weakly. “What’s wrong with me?” I took a breath. Honesty was the best policy.

  “Cedd, my friend, you’ve been poisoned.” Two gasps and a sob followed the announcement. “I know what by. I’ve found your cup and was able to discern what it is. I can keep you alive but you must do exactly,” I repeated the word for emphasis, “exactly what I say. Keep your movements to a minimum, because the slightest exertion will spread the poison round your body and kill you. I will prepare a draft to make you vomit first, then another to help you to sleep, and mix with it something that will fight the poison. Chad, can you go and get me three cups, a large bag of salt, a bucket and a pitcher of water? Draw the water with your own hand, from a fresh supply. Now?” Chad nodded and went. “And I will arrange for leeches to be applied to your legs, where the poison seems to be doing most damage at the moment, to drain what can be drained.”

  “Why? Why poison me? Or was it an accident?”

  “I’m not sure, but I don’t think so, I’m afraid. Why? Well, that can wait. I’ll find out. Right now, we have to stop it killing you. The rest we can deal with later.”

  Chad returned with the three cups, a pitcher and a bag full of salt. At my request he poured water into two of the cups; I thanked him and prepared the salt water - a fifty-fifty mixture.

  “Can’t I just stick my fingers down my throat?” Cedd asked.

  “This first. Salt has antiseptic qualities, as well as making you vomit. Drink.” The patient did as he was told. “All of it. Now.” He put his fingers towards his mouth. “No, not yet. Let it mix, to dilute the poison itself and to make it easier for you to vomit. Just a couple of moments.” Cedd flopped back on his bed and rubbed his temples and forehead with one hand. “Headache?”

  “Yes, and a…a…I feel drowsy. And numb.” I nodded and opened my medicine bag. I selected some dried nettle, dandelion and lemon balm and powdered them together in the third, dry cup, then added some of my own post-Vision medicine and diluted the mixture with a quarter of a cup of water. I put it on the small nightstand and sat down beside the bed, reached for the bucket and gently pulled Cedd up to a sitting position.

  “Time to evacuate your stomach.” With my help, and Colman and Chad to empty the bucket and replenish the water so that there was something to bring up, we did just that. Such a procedure is never pleasant but if the choice is literally life or death, it must and will be done. It left Cedd feeling weaker and with a headache rendered worse by the strain. When it appeared that his stomach had settled, I got the drink of medicine.

  “Drink this now,” I told Cedd, and helped him up to a sitting position.

  “What is it?”

  “It smells bad, tastes foul and will keep you alive. Drink it.” Cedd complied, and pulled a face. “Now you can have some water to get rid of the taste and the gritty bits.” I helped him to that as well, then laid him gently back on his bed. “Now comes the hard part. I have to use the little healing power I have to get your body to fight the poison. Lie back and relax. But first -” I turned to Chad and Colman “ - I heard talk in the yard of God’s judgement. See if you can strangle it at birth.” The two looked at each other and Colman agreed to go. “Colman, I’ll need to speak to you later.” The Abbott said that he was available whenever I wanted and I turned back to my patient. “Close your eyes, Cedd. I want you to picture some things.” I stood, took a deep breath to steady myself and started to talk in a steady, forceful, monotonous voice that brooked no interference. Chad looked on the while, feeling helpless but hopeful that his brother might be saved.

  “Your body is under attack. Picture the attack. See the attack. Your body is being invaded. It has been invaded. See the invaders. They are an army. It is an army. See the a
rmy. It is filled with hatred for all living things. They creep forward, advancing slowly, filled with hate. They are gathering in your stomach, that is their base. They are crowded, they can get out only slowly. They must be stopped. You must stop them. You can stop them. Seal your stomach, close the gates, wall them up.” I breathed deeply and paused to see what effect my words were having. Cedd was lying still, eyes closed, lips moving silently.

  “Seal them up, close the gates, shut the walls.” Cedd mouthed the words in response. “Seal them up, close the gates, shut the walls,” I repeated.

  I continued with the spell to marshall his body’s own defences, getting him to picture an army of gold and brown forming up and marching to confront the poisonous enemy. After a few minutes I stopped and watched the Abbott again. He was mouthing my last few sentences; I nodded. It was as much as I could do, for now.

  I told Chad that I had to go and report to Oswy, and that I would be back as soon as possible.

  “Will he live?” I took a breath and looked away before answering.

  “Chad, I can’t say at the moment. I honestly don’t know. I’m sorry I can’t say more than that.” I put my hand on the other’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. You must pray for him. I know that prayer will help. And pray for me, too, that I can help him. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Chad nodded and bent to sit by his brother. His face was knotted with concern and his eyes were filling with tears. I gave him a rhyming chant to repeat, quietly and firmly, to help reinforce the resistance. He nodded shortly and I left.

  As soon as I entered his chamber, Oswy stood and made for the room at the back, waving me after him. I pushed purposefully past the queries, spoken and unspoken, and followed. Godwin closed the door and joined us. Oswy spoke.

  “No ceremonial, no thees and thous, no excess. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Abbott Cedd has been poisoned.” The two Englishmen started. “The poison is Hemlock. It was in his water.”

  “Who has done this?”

  “I don’t know at the moment, but if you give me time I will find out. I have certain abilities that will help. I think it would be better if it was left to me for the time being, rather than putting your soldiers on the case. I can assure you I will ask for your help if and when I need it.” Oswy had raised an eyebrow.

  “Certain abilities, eh? I thought there was something about you. Now, you have told me what you know and don’t know. Tell me what you think.”

  “Right now, I don’t know what to think. Enmities and anger have been released by this Synod. I don’t know even from which camp this deed has emanated.”

  “Surely not your own?”

  “Sadly, I can’t eliminate that possibility. In this charged atmosphere anything is possible.” Oswy considered the answer.

  “It would be best, then, if the Synod is brought to a conclusion as soon as possible. I can’t declare for either side yet. My Queen has to be as convinced as I of the right path, and she isn’t, not yet. Not enough to shake off her chaplain at any rate. That’s confidential, by the way. When can you resume?”

  “My Lord, I appreciate and agree the need for as much haste as can be. But I would ask your indulgence for the rest of the day.”

  “The rest of the day!” Godwin exclaimed. I nodded.

  “I need to be with my patient.” The two of them looked astounded.

  “He’s still alive?” Oswy demanded. “I thought you’d want a period of mourning!”

  “Yes, he is still alive. I have some skill.”

  “Can you,” It dawned on Oswy that I was a force with which he was unfamiliar and he suddenly felt nervous. This man was more than “something fey”. He swallowed. “Can you cure him? Of hemlock poisoning?”

  “I don’t know. To be honest, I don’t think so. I think I can keep him alive but a cure may be beyond me. I’ll need help for that.” This made Oswy and Godwin even more nervous.

  “From where will this help come?”

  “Human help, I assure you,” I smiled. “There will be no heavenly visitations to disturb the peace of the monastery or its visitors.” The two of them sighed with relief. “There is someone whose skill may be sufficient to help him recover. I will send for him.”

  “I’ll place a messenger at your disposal. Tell him where to go, on my authority.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I have,” I smiled again, grimly, “other means.” Oswy gave me one of his keen looks.

  “What manner of man are you, master monk? Angel or demon? Are you man at all?” I was briefly nervous in my turn; superstition can make otherwise rational men behave in an irrational manner. I took a breath and answered calmly.

  “I’m a man, as much of a man as yourself. God endowed me with certain Gifts, as He has endowed you. To you He gave great courage and ability in battle, as well as the skill to rule a fractious and disputatious kingdom. To me He gave Gifts of the mind. We have been blessed in different ways. That’s all.”

  “I may have some use for you and your Gifts in the future. A King needs a perceptive adviser close at hand.”

  “You already have one,” I answered levelly and I felt Godwin relax, “and most of the time you would find my Gift of less benefit than you may think. For the most part, it comes unbidden and wrapped in symbols, dreams and obscurity and then stays obstinately away when asked for. My healing skills are minor and mostly dispensed for the benefit of ordinary people, who have no surgeons or physicians to attend them.”

  “Still, maybe,” he began, then lapsed into thoughtful silence.

  “May I return to Abbott Cedd? And may we have the rest of this day?” The King jerked out of his reverie.

  “Oh, yes, yes, go on. I’ll suspend the Synod until tomorrow, three hours after dawn. If you need more time, call on me before then. I wish the Abbott a speedy recovery.” I bowed my thanks and hurried back to the infirmary and my patient.

  24

  The Druid

  There was a commotion in the corridor outside Cedd’s room. Chad was physically restraining two monks, who were trying to get to his brother.

  “You will not touch him! Get away!”

  “What is going on here?” I demanded. “This is the house of the sick, not a bar-room for brawling! Stop that, all of you! The patient needs peace and quiet!” The three separated at my voice and the two - who I didn’t know, they were not from the Lindisfarne party - turned to me.

  “On Abbess Hilda’s orders, we are here to tend to the patient. This - this ruffian is preventing us.”

  “That ruffian is the patient’s brother, in fact as well as in Christ. He is concerned about him and two strangers are objects of suspicion. Abbess Hilda’s help is most welcome,” I continued, more calmly, “but I will decide how my patient is to be treated. What do you have with you?” I asked. I rejected most of their lotions, potions and cordials as well-meaning but useless - and not just in this case - but I welcomed the leeches they’d brought. “Good, good. I was going to send for these anyway. You’ve done us a service. Thank you. Please apply them to his legs, six to each, and be prepared to replace them as they fall off. He needs a lot of relief.”

  Abbess Hilda herself arrived in the infirmary a few moments later and the earlier argument looked like it was about to be rekindled. I persuaded her out of the room and explained all that had transpired, including the suspension of the Synod for the day. The Abbess was horrified to learn of the poisoning and wanted to know who the perpetrators were. I calmed her down and said that I would find out, as soon as I could leave the patient.

  “I knew you were unusual, Anselm, but I had no idea you were so blessed. Have a care, show us no more Gifts from your quiver, or there will be those who won’t let you leave us.” To her monks, she said “Follow Brother Anselm’s orders. To the letter. If he says stay, you stay. If he says go, you go. If he says jump through a hoop of fire, dancing as you go, do it or answer to me.” She turned again to me. “I won’t get in your way, I’ve plenty to do. And now the Synod will
be extended.”

  “Not by much, if at all. I think its conclusion will be Friday at the latest, probably tomorrow. Oswy is almost ready to make a decision.”

  “I had hoped for today. Agilbert has taken his time appointing Wilfrid to speak. I don’t think he likes him. The next session will make or break us. All of us.” With that she went to organise her many other duties.

  I had my own to perform. I went in search of Colman as I had to get his permission for the first of them, and discuss the best route for the second. I found him in the Chapel, deep in thought, and disturbed him reluctantly. We came out and went to a quite spot by the chicken pens and sat on the low wall. The clucking of the birds would confuse the hearing of any who may try to eavesdrop. I gave the same response to the Abbott’s question as I had when it was posed by Oswy.

  “I think - no, I believe I can keep him alive for a while. Perhaps for some time. But he needs constant attention. I need help for a cure.”

  “Where from? Who shall we send for?”

  “This’s what I need to ask you. The best Healer I know, or know of, one with a powerful Gift, is in Strathclyde.”

  “Who’s that? Apart from Whithorn, there are hardly any Christian monks in that kingdom. I know all of that community, either personally or by recommendation. I’m not aware of any Healers who have a skill so much greater than your own.”

  “The one I have in mind is not there.”

  “Where then? A hermit? Who is it?” I took a deep breath, then I took another one for good measure. I wasn’t sure how Colman would react.

  “The one I have in mind is not a Christian. He’s a Druid. He’s the highest Druid in the kingdom. He advises the King himself.”

  Colman looked horrified.

  “A pagan? A Druid? To come here? At this time?” I was prepared for this.

  “I know of no other who has the Gift in such abundance, nor the skill to apply it.”