Divine Sacrifice, The (13 page)

Patrick began walking again slowly, almost painfully it seemed. Followed closely by his two
monachi,
he headed for the door. Halfway there, he paused, not bothering to turn, and spoke.
“Good Malgwyn?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I am told that you have a fondness for strong drink.”

“Not as much now as some time before.”

“I will expect you to keep your mind clear in this matter. You will upset me greatly if you resort to that again. Place your faith in the Christ. Lean on him.”

I did not answer him, merely watched his back as he continued out of the great hall. When he and his followers had safely departed the hall, I turned back to Arthur, Bedevere, and Coroticus.

“Are you sure that was wise, Malgwyn?” Arthur asked.

I shrugged. “This affair is too confusing. It is unlike the deaths at Castellum Arturius. Here there is no logical motive, no obvious goal. Almost anyone could be guilty of this crime.
Lauhiir had had some secret dealings with Elafius. Rhiannon had argued with him over religious matters. My good friend Coroticus is hiding something. No, no,” I said with a wave of the hand
as Coroticus started to interrupt. “Your protestations will fall on unwelcome ears, abbot. I am not asking you to divulge that which you would hide. At least not at this time.

“We have accusations of Pelagianism, the whimperings of that dolt Gildas. Aye, we need Patrick to help us sort through all of this. I do not doubt his honesty, though I do not share his
devotion to his cause. We both seek the truth for different reasons.”

“You do not think him a part of this affair?” Bedevere asked.

“How could he be? He was not here, arrived only today as we did. No, Patrick is an honest man, though I like him not. Zealots always worry me. But he will do what he says, of that I have
no doubt.

“And now, my lords, if you will forgive me. I need to take my rest. Coroticus, where shall I sleep?”

“I have prepared beds for you and Bedevere in one of my private chambers. The Rigotamos will have his own room here in the hall, next to yours. Is that acceptable?”

I waited for Arthur to consent, but personally I was pleased. During my long stay at the abbey some years before, I was assigned one of the spare, cold cells built for the
monachi
.
Coroticus did not refuse himself the pleasures of the flesh nor the comfort and luxury his station could afford.

While I mused about these things, Arthur nodded his acceptance of the arrangements. Bedevere, as was his habit, said nothing, deferring as I did to Arthur.

One of the servants came and showed us to our chambers. We crawled onto our respective furs, silence reigning in the room. I trusted Bedevere; I had always trusted him. He was renowned for his
loyalty, his discretion. But he was a quiet man, and he seemed to brood over some old tragedy. I was much closer to his fellow, Kay.

I lay there awake for a long while. After a few moments, I could hear Bedevere’s even breathing. Outside, an owl spoke to me across the night. A whiff of the damp lands surrounding the
abbey drifted through the hall, as the sounds of the servants cleaning up receded into silence. For a while.

And then I sat up. A scuffing sound came from the great hall, quiet, almost too quiet to be heard.

Someone was slipping through the feasting room, someone who didn’t want to be heard. I looked across the room to the dark lump that was Bedevere, but he was yet asleep.

Then, the door to our chamber creaked open.

I
threw back the fur covering me with my one arm and slid myself into the darkest corner of the chamber. Bedevere was snoring, loudly. I strained
to catch the sound of our intruder. Doing so made me feel a little silly. It could simply be one of the
monachi
. Or one of the servants. But something told me it was not. Something spoke
to me and said that the explanation was not that simple.

The wooden door to the chamber eased open. Had I not been awake, I would have heard nothing. A dark shadow of a figure entered, almost floating above the floor, it seemed, edging up to my bed
and kneeling down beside where I should have been.

Before I could discern his intentions, another dark figure flew through the air in a single move, sweeping the intruder from the floor and against the wooden wall with a crash.

“Quickly,” I heard Bedevere say. “Who are you and what do you want?” So much for thinking he was asleep.

I saw the vague outline of a candle on a table. Searching blindly in my pouch, I found my fire-making materials and, deftly though I had but one arm, had the candle lit.

The intruder had not answered Bedevere, but his heavy breathing filled the room.

In the dim glow of the candle, I saw, finally, who it was. Llynfann, my favorite little thief. “Bedevere! Release him!”

My old friend turned, and even in the dim candlelight I could see disbelief on his face. “Malgwyn, he stole in here to do you some mischief!”

“I did not, my lord,” Llynfann said with a quiver in his voice. “I came to fetch him.”

“Fetch me for whom, Llynfann?”

“The lady, Malgwyn. The lady of the woods.”

Bedevere looked at me in confusion. “The lady of the woods” was a name applied to my cousin Guinevere, Arthur’s consort. Those, like Llynfann, who lived in the forest knew her
only as “the lady of the woods.” During the events surrounding Eleonore’s death, it had been Llynfann who guided Kay and myself through a midnight-blackened forest. Aye, without
Llynfann and his bandit leader, my old friend Gareth, that affair would have ended quite differently.

“Why should Guinevere wish to see you now?”

I frowned. “She is my cousin. We are friends. The question should be, why does she want to see me so urgently that she used Llynfann to fetch me?”

“As you like,” Bedevere conceded. “But why?”

“The only way to find out is to answer her call.”

“Shall I alert Arthur?”

I considered the thought. “No, better that I find out what she needs first. If need be, we can easily send for him. Come, let’s be away.”

Fetching our horses almost took longer than the journey to Guinevere’s cottage. A candle burned in the window, glowing dully through the wavy Roman glass. I suspected that
the builder had robbed an old Roman villa for the glass as few craftsmen made it now. Llynfann had accompanied us at my request. I did not know but that his services would be required again.

The door swung open and a flash of long blond hair showed as my cousin motioned us in. Once inside, she hugged me and nodded to Bedevere. “Malgwyn, why comes Bedevere with you?”

“We were staying in the same chamber, and your messenger was not as quiet as you would have hoped him to be.”

She laughed, and I relaxed. If she could find something to laugh at, then perhaps her summons was not that serious.

“Why have you called for me, cousin?”

At that she stopped laughing, took on a somber look. She glanced again to Bedevere from the corner of her eye.

“You may say whatever you wish. Bedevere is assisting me in this affair.”

Guinevere nodded. “I feel awkward, Malgwyn. I had a visitor earlier, the woman Rhiannon. She believes that you will try to blame the
monachus’
s death on her.”

“Why does she think that?”

“She believes that Patrick will insist on her guilt. After all, she admitted to arguing with Elafius, the old fool.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Did you know him?”

“Of course. I often visit the women’s community. I still have friends there. And I know many of the
monachi
. Elafius was a disagreeable man.”

“And why did Rhiannon seek you out?”

Guinevere shrugged. “I had met her recently. After you questioned her, when she returned to the community, one of the other women told her that we were cousins.”

“What did she want with you?”

“What do you think? She wished me to plead her case before you.”

“She told me she did not do this thing; why would she need her case pled before anyone?”

“She fears Patrick.”

I nodded. “She should. Patrick and I have decided to ally ourselves in this matter.”

At that, Guinevere’s eyes showed little surprise, telling me that word had already spread of our alliance. “Malgwyn, have you lost what little is left of your mind? You do not even
believe in the Christ, and you’ve joined with the most famous
episcopus
in all Brittania.”

“Cousin, this affair is not simple. Elafius was not your typical
monachus
. And I do not believe it is as simple as Rhiannon killing him over some religious difference. Too many
questions are left unanswered by that explanation.” I held up a hand as Guinevere began to protest. “Guinevere, Coroticus is hiding something. Lauhiir is hiding something. I’m
told that a
monachus
named Gwilym is hiding something. I need to understand the religion in all of this, Pelagianism, the divine sacrifice, Rhiannon’s role. I am likely to miss such
important information because of my ignorance. Patrick can help prevent that.”

My beautiful cousin shook her head, sending her long, flowing hair flying about her. “Malgwyn, I do love thee. You are very nearly all the family that I have left. And I respect your skill
in these matters. But I fear you have made an error by joining forces with Patrick.”

Something in the look in her eye put another thought in my mind. “Is that your fear, or Arthur’s?”

“Both.” And the voice surprised both Bedevere and myself. Arthur.

“But we left you at—”

Arthur smiled. “Do you think that I am incapable of moving quietly?”

I shook my head. That had been one of Arthur’s special talents as a military leader. He could move great bodies of horse more quietly than anyone I knew. Slipping from the abbey would have
been no more trouble for him than arising in the morning. “But you seemed earlier not to desire a visit with Guinevere.”

Guinevere cut him a glance, a hint of irritation flashing in her eyes.

“Can not a Rigotamos have even a few secrets from his closest aides?”

I hung my head, appropriately chastised.

He stepped out from the next room and lowered himself into a wooden chair. “I am worried, Malgwyn. Guinevere speaks for us both. While I believe in the Christ, you know and all know that I
have not been a friend of the church. Patrick knows this too. And he has an undying hatred of nobility.
Tyranni
he calls us.”

“Rigotamos, I serve you. But I serve truth as well. You had no hand in the death of Elafius. Guinevere had no hand in it. Bedevere had no hand in it. And whether we like it or not, Patrick
had no hand in it. I believe that Patrick seeks the truth as well. I do not understand Pelagianism, and I do not understand what causes men to act so passionately about questions that cannot, to my
mind, ever be resolved.

“Yet, I sense that this affair is tightly bound up with religion. I do not know how. It is for his understanding of such things that I turned to Patrick.”

“Malgwyn, he would like nothing better than to embarrass me. By embarrassing you he accomplishes the same purpose.” Arthur was pleading with me. He knew that on some things I could
not be commanded.

“So, it was really you that arranged for my cousin’s summons.”

“No, Malgwyn,” Guinevere interrupted me. “Rhiannon did come to me. She is afraid that she will be blamed for this thing. And she is afraid that Patrick’s beliefs will
sway him against her.”

This was something new for me. When I had sought the answers to other affairs, I had sometimes had people try to sway me one way or the other. But never had this many people pulled me in so many
different directions.

My stump of an arm ached, but I did not know if it were from the old wound or the lateness of the hour. I was disappointed in my cousin and Arthur. They should know that I would seek only the
truth. Something inside of me sought only what actually happened in an affair, not what others would wish had happened. I did not know where that great drive, that great urge, sprang from. I only
knew that it controlled me.