Iamerge trudged up the hill toward the monastery. He felt defeated. He felt confused. Where once there had been a feeling of elation that came with cheating death, now he was filled with the hollowness of loss. Iamerge was starting over, well and true, and on top of it he’d made an enemy, it seemed.
At best, Mongfind Ui Birlinn was a non-friend, the sort that always seemed to find their way into being an implacable foe, and no end of trouble. That was at the best, because now he had no power, no wealth, no resources at all to deal with such an antagonist.
What if his nest egg, carefully concealed, was actually lost to him like the boat that had splintered on the rocks? Iamerge shuddered to think of it. The sun was high in the sky by now, but its heat felt oppressive, not comforting in his current mood, a bane. How different the world had looked walking down the hill in the morning light. Now he could not grasp hope.
As he neared the cluster of small stone buildings that was the Biblious Monastry he heard the brothers chanting their offices, praises to the God of their scriptures, the same as that of the Jews he had known. He had to admit that their chanting of the words of scripture was pleasantly musical.
He paused under a tree that wasn’t far from the low stone walls that marked out the monk’s fields. The shade was a relief, the sing song chanting a pleasant distraction from the defeat of his hopes. Iamerge sat, resting against rough bark of the shady tree, his disappointment turned to weariness, and he fell asleep.