Sanctuary (Dominion) (11 page)

“Yes. I uh, I’m looking for Father Eadwyn. Is he still here?”

“You know the Father?” She scrunched her eyebrows at me.

“I do. I was raised here as a child.”

“Oh,” she said, her expression brightening. “I apologize. I haven’t been here long, so I don’t know everyone who’s been through these halls. I believe Eadwyn is in the church. I can go get him for you.” I noticed the hint of a Frankish accent in her speech.

“No," I said. "Thank you. I’ll go find him.”

“Can I get you a clean robe? You look wretched in that one. You’ll catch a cold if you haven’t already.”

“I would very much appreciate that. Thank you.”

“Of course. I’ll be right back.”

She retreated down the hallway, before I could ask her name. I waited by the fire a few more minutes before reluctantly leaving the kitchen and venturing back out into the cold, drizzly air of the courtyard. A few hurried steps took me to the back entrance of the church, a small wooden door that creaked when I opened it, just as it always had. The church in Eoferwic was the largest I’d seen in my travels across Britain, even larger than the cathedral in Leicester. The nave was at least sixty feet long and forty feet wide, and it had a raised presbytery about fifteen feet in either direction. A tower shot up from the back of the church, at least four stories tall. During Roman times, the tower would have been manned by soldiers and used to spot enemy advances far in the distance. These days, it was just another room to store the Bishop's things. I stepped inside onto the cracked stone floors to find myself standing next to the Bishop's office. It was empty, so I continued down the short hallway and out into the drafty interior of the church proper, stopping just under the apse, the dome covering this end of the building.

A man came into sight ahead of me, in the nave. He wore a well-tailored brown woolen robe over a thinner linen one, and a small silver cross hung around his neck. He looked at me and his lips parted, as if to say something, but instead he just gawked at me, probably deciding if he recognized the young man standing before him. Finally, after a few long heartbeats, he did.

"Daniel?"

"Eadwyn," I said, striding across the floor to embrace my old friend. I very nearly did, too, before remembering what state my robes were in. It didn’t matter, though. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me like a father would a long-lost son. Eadwyn had always been the one person here whose company I’d enjoyed most. When I came to the church as a boy, he’d been about the same age I am now. He looked after me like an older brother, warning me before trouble came and giving me advice on how keep it from coming back. He rarely demanded anything of me, and was more than generous with his time when I needed it. He looked older than I remembered, almost forty now, with thick, curly brown hair on top of a high forehead and a serious face that made it seem as if he was always squinting at something.

"What are you doing back?" he asked. "Is your studying finished?"

"It is," I said, believing that to be a true enough statement. "I'm back from Rome."

"Well, that’s… that's wonderful!” he said, his excitement causing his voice to echo through the room. He looked me over, finally noticing my condition. “You look like you must be freezing!”

“I am. A nun is getting me dry clothes. I found her in the kitchen. I don’t know her name.”

“Ah. Sister Deaga, I’m guessing. I’ll make the proper introductions when she returns. In the meantime, let’s get you to the back and warmed up. Can’t have you getting ill the day you come back to us.” Eadwyn led me out of the nave, back the way I’d just come. “You should have written to let us know, so we could have expected you.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Father,” I said, falling back into old habits. I wasn’t entirely comfortable calling him by his name. “I would have, it’s just that my journey took a few twists and turns. I didn’t come straight here.”

“That’s understandable, of course. It’s unfortunate for the Archbishop, though. He left for Rome late in the summer. Did you see him, or did your paths cross at all?"

My stomach tightened. If Rothward was in Rome, he would discover why I wasn't. He was old, and he wouldn't travel through winter, so I didn't have to worry for a while, but I couldn't be here when he returned. I hoped he hadn't decided to send a letter in his place. "No. I didn't see him. I wish I had. I wasn't aware he was an Archbishop now."

“He is. A few years now. God favors those who give their lives in service to Him, and few do so more than the Archbishop. We're all very proud of him." We reached the door and stepped back into the courtyard. "So how long will you be here?”

“I’m not sure, yet.”

"You’re here for the winter at least?"

"I am, if you have room."

His eyes lit up at the news. "Of course! We can put you in your old room. It’s been empty since you left.”

“Really? No other little orphans running around that needed a bed?”

Eadwyn smiled. “Plenty of orphans, but we have space for them and for you. You return to us a man, Daniel, a learned one. You should have your own room.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Come. Let’s get you presentable. We should let everyone know you’re here.”

Chapter 9

Sister Deaga met us in the annex with dry robes and slippers, and then led me to my room, which could be generously described as Spartan. I couldn’t walk more than three paces in any direction, but it had a cot, a chest for my personal items, a chair, and a small desk with a candle sitting on top, and it was far better than sleeping outside. I changed clothes, gave the wet ones to Deaga, and let Eadwyn lead me back to the kitchen to warm up.

We sat on either side of a small serving table, nestled against the back wall, and chatted about my journey while I sipped on hot cider. We fell back into our normal conversational rhythms without even trying, and I had to remind myself a few times not to be too honest with him. I intimated that I’d spent much more time in Frankia on my way back than I really had, while my stay in Rogwallow went from most of a year down to a few months. I explained my vagaries as merely sightseeing trips to a variety of churches throughout Europe and Britain, which I had in fact done prior to settling in Rogwallow. And luckily, I could also talk about the churches in Leicester and Lincoln, where I’d stayed on my way here. Eadwyn was quite interested in the details of these places, since he’d never been outside of Northumbria in his life, so I gladly relayed all the details I could remember.

The back door opened, stopping our conversation in mid-sentence, and an old priest in a thick, fur-lined, brown robe stomped in from the courtyard, slamming the door behind him. He was easily past sixty, a rarity in these parts, with a slight stoop in his shoulders and a bald head that revealed a few scars from his former life as a soldier. A foul expression twisted his face, and when he saw us, he glanced at me, but I saw no hint from him that he knew me.

"You," he pointed at Eadwyn accusingly, "need to send that silly wench off to Jarrow or Lindisfarne. I won't be having her treat me like I'm a fool child."

"Oslac," Eadwyn said soothingly, "I do not believe Sister Agnes deserves to be called as such, but I will speak to her later." He waved the old man over. "In the meantime, perhaps you should say hello to our guest."

Oslac shuffled over, squinting at me as I stood and smiled politely. He scrunched his forehead, already heavy with wrinkles, until his eyes lit up in recognition.

"The boy!" He punched me in the shoulder, though he had no strength in his arms, unlike Dagbert. "The one we chased outta here."

"Oslac," I said, bowing my head slightly, "it's good to see you again."

"Back from Rome, are ya?" he asked. He reached out and tousled my hair. I’d hated that as a boy, but I didn’t mind it now.

"I am. I'm here for the winter. And you'll be glad to know that your name came up along the way."

"Did it now?” He squinted again, curiosity taking hold. “I hope it wasn't someone I poked with my sword in the old days." He cackled.

"No. It was a merchant named Oswin. I met him on the road a few days south of here. He spoke well of you. Although I think even the ones you’ve tried to kill would speak well of you these days.”

“If they’re still alive, then they’re too old to hold grudges, boy.” A mischievous grin covered his tanned, weathered face. “That’s how I see it.”

“I've put him in his old room. We haven't promised it to anyone, have we?” Eadwyn turned to me. "We've had a lot of visitors staying with us lately from some of the other churches and monasteries. Everyone is worried about the recent attacks and we've been trying to share news as much as possible."

Oslac frowned in thought. “No one coming that I know of. But it'll be good to have someone back in that room. Nothing but the rats been in there since last winter.”

“As long as it keeps the rain off my head, I’m happy to be wherever you put me.”

"We'll put you to work is what we'll do." Oslac slapped my shoulder.

"Agnes and Ewen are outside I take it?" Eadwyn asked, and Oslac's smile turned back into a scowl.

"Aye. I'll let you go talk to them. I've nothing left to say to that woman." He threw his hands up in disgust and walked away.

"He hasn't changed much," I said.

"No,” Eadwyn sighed. He led me through the annex, back outside, where a horse-drawn cart now sat parked on the dirt path connecting the plaza to the stables. The boy from earlier hung from one side of the cart, while another boy, a year or two older, with wild, black hair, had pulled himself up the other. A giant of a man carried a sack of grain from the cart to the back of the church, setting it on the ground next to the door. He was at least a head taller than I, but he must have weighed twice as much. His arms were muscled, his back broad and his face grim under a mop of blond hair. He saw us, and nodded at Eadwyn deferentially.

"Father."

"Hello, Ewen."

He went back to the cart, where another nun shooed the boys away. She was older than Deaga, but not by much, frumpier, with a chubby face sticking out of her habit. She turned to Eadwyn with an exasperated look, and seemed about to say something to him before her eyes found me, stopping her in her tracks.

"Daniel?"

"Sister Agnes," I gave her a small bow. She bounded over and hugged me, nearly squeezing the breath from my lungs.

"You're back! And you look just like you did when you left. No meat on your bones at all!"

"I promise, I do eat."

"You will now!"

"He's here for the winter," Eadwyn said. "So you have a while to fatten him up."

"Wonderful! Sister Ethelwan will be happy to see you when she gets back. She’s visiting Jarrow, bringing news to Father Fearhan, mostly about all this nonsense with the two kings,” she waved her hand dismissively. “If the weather isn’t too bad she might be back in a few weeks. If not, we probably won’t see her until the spring. You don't know all the new people, do you?" she asked, her face lighting up at the prospect of introducing me. "Oh, well let's see." She motioned to the two boys. "That's Cerdic and Brant over there, orphans like yourself.” She said it as if it was a common thing, and unfortunately, it was. “Boys,” she called out, “come here and say hello to Daniel. He used to live here, just like you.”

Cerdic and Brant walked over and stood impatiently in front of me. Brant, the boy I’d seen drawing in the dirt earlier, mumbled a scarcely audible hello.

“Good to meet you,” I said in response. They looked at the ground and fidgeted with their hands, barely containing their energy before Agnes shooed them away.

“There's a few more around here somewhere, but I haven't a clue where they could be. That one," she pointed at the giant, who hefted firewood onto his shoulders and carried it to the stables, "is Ewen. He helps us with some of the work around here and we let him stay in the space above the stables." She scrunched her face, as if talking about him was distasteful, though I had no idea why. "You already saw Oslac?"

"Just now, yes.”

Agnes frowned at Eadwyn. "Do you have any idea what kind of names he calls me? In public, no less?"

Eadwyn nodded. "I'll speak with him."

"Where's Abraham?" I asked, deftly changing the subject. Abraham grew up with me here at the church, though he'd been a year or two younger and much more of a troublemaker.

"He's gone to Lodis," Agnes said before Eadwyn could. "He apprenticed to a cobbler there named Creth. Turned into a proper man. Finally.” She added the last part under her breath. “But enough of all that. Let’s eat!”

*****

Dinner was a small affair, consisting of a stew filled with chicken, parsley, radishes and an onion, along with bread, cheese and butter, staples of all good Briton meals. Agnes and Deaga prepared the food, then set it out on the kitchen table, pulled away from the wall to allow for a few additional place settings. The food was overcooked and under spiced, but it was hot, which made it an extravagant feast for me, and I ate heartily. Agnes and Oslac traded silent glares, but eventually, the women left to make sure the servants and children were finished with their work and fed, leaving only Eadwyn, Oslac, myself and a young, bookish Irish clerk named Aengus sitting about the table. In addition to the Archbishop, two other priests and clerks also stayed here, but all four were currently out, ministering to the different factions in the Northumbrian civil war. So the four of us drank our cider and ale, and traded stories, mostly about old times. Eventually, Eadwyn picked up where our earlier conversation left off.

“So, I assume you met Bishop Ceobred while staying at Leicester?”