Divine Sacrifice, The (15 page)

I found the look Gwilym gave Coroticus rather odd as well, almost a confirmation of the abbot’s discomfort. “Well, uh, I was hoping that you could do an errand for me.”

“Anything, my lord abbot.”

“Please walk with me then, and I will explain it to you.” And Coroticus took Gwilym by the arm and led him through the door and away.

I shook my head. Never had I seen the abbot so solicitous with one of the
monachi,
even aged ones like Elafius. This new
monachus
would stand more study.

A
few moments later, and I was standing in the path between the abbot’s kitchen and the great hall.
Monachi
and
servi
scurried by, carrying large amphorae, the kind that held wine, up the path from the village. I guessed that they contained wine from the far east. Coroticus and his bishop on the western shore were
devoted to the vintages from that region. Although I knew that Coroticus had never been to Jerusalem, I also knew that early in his church career he had traveled to Rome. It was there that he
gained his taste for fine wines.

Two
monachi
were hurriedly digging a grave in the cemetery near the old church. My stomach gnawed at me, but I knew it wasn’t from hunger. Or perhaps it was, a hunger born of the
paucity of information in the death of Elafius.

I still could not fathom who stood to profit from the old
monachus’
s death. Had Lauhiir been up to something with Elafius that he would not want known?

And now I was allied with a man with whom I was absolutely uncomfortable. I drew abreast of the old well beside the chapel, the one called the Mother Chapel, and took the opportunity to sit on a
rock next to it.

I noticed then that the men carrying amphorae went not to Coroticus’s kitchen, but continued on toward the Tor and Lauhiir’s encampment. And behind them came even more men, carrying
amphorae and skins, wrapped bundles. It was a virtual caravan of goods.

“Good man?” I queried of one of the workers, wearing the tunic and breeches of a common laborer and carrying a lighter load than many of the others.

He stopped and looked over at me. “Aye, master. May I help you?”

His words burst forth with enthusiasm. He would be helpful. No suspicion tainted his words. That was a telling factor.

“For whom are these supplies intended?”

The man shrugged. “Some for his lord abbot, but most for the new lord on the Tor.”

I waved him on, and his weary steps carried him on his journey. What was it Gwilym had said? Nothing was as it seemed? Lauhiir had neither the money nor treasure for such purchases. So, how
then, could he pay for these things?

The parade of amphorae and parcels continued past me. Two of the
servi,
tiring of the task, set their loads down next to one of the wooden huts to refresh themselves. I
stared at the pile of goods, wondering again where Lauhiir had got the money to purchase such luxuries. As I watched, I saw a shadowy hand slip from the door of the cell, snag one of the parcels,
and silently slip it inside. I grinned.

After a few moments, the
servi
took up their burdens and resumed their chore. I rose and walked idly up to the door, suddenly snatching back the fur door and grabbing a squealing,
howling Llynfann by the scruff of his neck.

“Master Malgwyn!” the little thief stammered. “I was doing you no harm!”

“You are a thief, my little friend. You harm anyone stupid enough to leave their valuables near you. But right now, I have need of you.”

I released him and he straightened his tunic.

“How may I serve you, master?”

“I need your especial talents. I need to know where these goods come from, the ones that Lauhiir brings. And I wish to know how he pays for them.”

Llynfann knitted his brows together, not a difficult feat since his thick brows painted almost a single dark line across his forehead. “You do not ask for much, Malgwyn.”

“The more difficult the deed, the more coins will clink in your purse.”

He nodded then and smiled a ragged-toothed grin. “For you, Master Malgwyn, I would do anything. Else, Gareth would slit my throat.”

“Ahh,” I said with a smile. “You’re more interested in saving your own neck than being of service to me.”

He shrugged. “What does it matter as long as I do your chore?”

“Excellent point. Find me when you have news.”

And the little man darted away, lost from sight within seconds.

With that chore under way, I grabbed a soldier from Arthur’s troop and sent him to fetch Bedevere and the young
monachus
Ider. I resumed my seat and watched the
monachi
scurry back and forth about their duties, and I pondered the seemingly endless procession of questions that plagued my mind in this affair.

Who had reason to kill Elafius? That was at the heart of the matter. I knew the how, and I was fairly certain I knew the when. But it was that ever-present question of why that worried me like a
nagging wife. Why should it profit any person, man or woman, to murder the old
monachus
? That was the one thing I couldn’t fathom.

As I pondered these questions, I saw that the soldier had accomplished his mission swiftly. Bedevere and Ider were already striding across the grounds toward me.

“Master Malgwyn,” Ider sputtered. “You have need of me?”

“Yes, Ider. You will speak to all of the brothers. I need to know if any of them saw Elafius or anyone else about that night, especially around his cell. I must account for every second
from the time the evening meal was ended until the morn, if possible.” Ider’s eyes grew large. “This is a task within your abilities, Ider.”

He nodded and gulped. Bedevere, as was his nature, said nothing, just fixed me with a bemused smile.

“For you, old friend, I need you to circulate amongst Lauhiir’s men, asking the same questions. In particular, I need to know if they saw any sign of Rhiannon. She claims to have
gone back to the women’s camp after the meal. I need to know if this is true. Also, my little thief, Llynfann, will be looking for me. If he can’t find me, he may come to you. Keep him
safe.”

“But Malgwyn,” Ider interrupted. “How would the soldiers know aught of Rhiannon?”

“You think that Lauhiir’s soldiers go without women?”

“Malgwyn! They are religious women!” Ider was aghast.

“And religious women do not desire men? Grow beyond your innocence, Ider.”

“The boy is young, Malgwyn,” Bedevere softly chastised me. “But what of you? While Ider and I are doing your work, what will you be doing?”

“I’m going to confer with my new partner, Patrick, to see if his inquiries have produced anything of value.” I noticed the look in Bedevere’s eyes. “You do not
trust him?”

“Malgwyn,” Bedevere began, hitching his breeches and sitting on a rock. “We have known each other many years. I watched you closely in the affair of Eleonore. You have always
seemed to have a clear path before, a well-planned journey that would take you to the truth. But in this matter, I do not sense that. I see you floundering, like a man in the river who cannot
swim.”

He was right. And I knew it. I turned to him. “In Arthur’s castle, I know the rhythms of life as well as my own heartbeat. When something goes wrong in that rhythm, I can sense it,
feel it. I have learned over the years to detect truth in the same way. When I hear a lie, most times, it jars me like a club to my chest. In truth, Bedevere, everyone that I have questioned in
this affair, but you, Arthur, Guinevere, and young Ider, has lied to me. Aye, even Coroticus and Patrick. It is as if everyone here has a different secret to hide. Gwilym told me as much himself,
though I think he is privy to more secrets than just his own. When faced with such a situation, I have no alternative but to change my methods.”

“That may be the most I have ever heard you say, Malgwyn.” Bedevere chuckled. “So you are off to question Patrick in the guise of conferring with him? Do you think he will be
so easily fooled?”

“Never fear, old friend. I do not underestimate Patrick. He could not have survived so long among the Scotti without being clever.”

“More than clever, Malgwyn. Perhaps tricky, and even deceiving.”

“I will heed your advice, Bedevere.”

I found Patrick washing his face in a decorated red bowl outside the wattle-and-daub cell provided for him. I took the chance to appraise him from afar, this man who had become
a legend in the church. His frame was spare, but his arms, thick with cordlike muscles, spoke of a man who knew hard work. At an age when most men turn frail, Patrick moved with the strength and
certainty of men half his years.

“My lord
episcopus
!” I announced my presence as I drew near.

Patrick stopped his ablutions and wiped his wrinkled face with a piece of cloth. “Master Malgwyn. Will you join me in prayer.” It was not a request, but a statement.

“No.” It was a test, a chance to see how the old man would react to being contradicted.

To my surprise, he turned away from me with a smile and lowered himself in a chair. “You are either a man of strength or a spoiled child. Your history, as I know it, would argue against
the latter.” He adjusted his robes and motioned to a stump beside him. “Please, sit. Let us treat as men of the world. Men such as we need no Arthur or Coroticus to observe our
actions.”

I nodded. This was Patrick’s conversation. It took me but seconds to realize that.

“I came from near these lands, you know. Bannaventa, near the coast. My father was a
decurion
named Calpornius, and we had both a town house and a large estate, some of which my
grandfather, Potitus, had given us. It was a beautiful place, a good place for a child.” Patrick’s eyes were focused beyond me, toward the mist-covered Tor rising high above us.
“I was a poor student, Malgwyn. And I knew not God. In truth, we were all slipping away from the Christ. Old shrines to the Roman gods were being rebuilt, renewed. The departure of the
legions left everything confused. Men who had once owed their positions and wealth to Roman patronage were now faced with a future that did not include Roman protection.”

“I can only imagine,
episcopus
.” I knew not what else to say, indeed, it seemed he expected nothing from me.

“Did you know that I was only sixteen winters when the Scotti kidnapped me from our estate? I was a mere child. But I was child enough to do much harm. In the space of an hour, I committed
a grievous sin. And it was shortly after that that I was kidnapped and taken to Hibernia. I told only one other person of it. I have always wondered if my servitude were a penance for my
sin.”

I wanted so badly to ask the old priest what his sin had been, what wrong he had committed. But for whatever reason, Patrick had decided to confide in me. In my heart I knew that it was wrong to
venture any questions. I took a careful look at him, put aside my prejudices and tried to appraise him as a man. And I noticed what I had missed when I saw him as just another obstacle in the road.
He was an old, tired man, and the wrinkles in his face mapped the burdens on his soul.