Iamerge stepped out into the day and closed the guesthouse door behind him.  He was more than a little disappointed that Rhuary UiBirlinn was nowhere to be seen.  Another opportunity squandered, he thought.

Nothing to be done about it.  I’ve things to do anyway.  Iamerge headed for the refectory.  The wounded men were waking, and along with herbal remedies to deal with their pain would be a their need for food. 

Fortunately, the monks had done a good job supplying that need after a bumpy start.  At first, they counted up mouths and imagined they need only supply that much more, but the monks of the Biblious Monastery kept themselves on very short rations.  Wounded men needed much more, not just to feed them what they were accustomed, but also more to fuel their recuperation.

Iamerge had benefited from this realization.  It was a benefit of being with the wounded that he was fed like one.  The monks were unstintingly generous as soon as they realized their error.  Iamerge expected that there would be ample food waiting for him in the Refectory.

In a community without doors one hears things.  It wasn’t long before Iamerge began to hear urgent words.  It seemed that the meeting between Gospels and UiBirlinn had moved indoors and the refectory had become the conference room.

It was awkward, but Iamerge decided he might best be served by hovering near the door while the conversation continued.  It was not difficult to hear Rhaury UiBirlinn, “This hill of yours is indefensible as it now stands. . .” Perhaps my opportunity is not gone, Iamerge thought.

“We do not need to defend it, this place is the Lord’s,” said a voice that Iamerge guessed was the new abbot.

“Master UiBirlinn, you needn’t worry about us.  Our lives are in God’s hands.  If we die we gain reward, if it is for Christ’s sake.  Every man of us is commited to it.”  That seemed to be from Gospels.

“What madness is this?  If you mean to commit suicide, go find the monsters.  I am sure they will oblige, but do not provide the meal that brings them to my gates.”

“We do not wish death. . .” began Gospels, but the new abbot spoke louder.

“For a chance at martyrdom we would indeed count ourselves blessed, every man of us.  We do our duty before the Lord, and if He will offer us this cup of martyrdom then how can we refuse?”

“You are mad then.  These are not devils to tempt you, they are monsters who will eat you.  If you think defeat at their hands will be some honor, you go to them, but you will do nothing but feed them.  You will gain no honor, at least nothing that I would call honor.” Iamerge thought about stepping in, but then UiBirlinn continued, “Is the cow honored to be roasted, or the hog blessed bacon to be?”

“It is not that,” spoke Gospels, “ just, all things, even something that might seem senseless or tragic, can be made into good by our Lord.”

“That would be some trick, that.  The lot of you killed and consumed and that to the good?  Will you sour in their bellies and so bring them down?  Wear thee hemlock and nightshade as you go, for eat you they will.”

“Pardon us Master UiBirlinn.  We take your point, I think, but you do not know our Lord.”  Gospels had a way of speaking that could silence you with a whisper, his very softness seemed to make his words more potent, “At one time we had plans for a tower.  It was to house our bells, famously, the very ones for which the town is named.  Perhaps we should consider making a tower to hold us safe as well as to house the bells.”

“It seems to me too late for that sort of effort. . .”

“Indeed, it was half a century ago that the plan was abandoned Gospels.”

“True, and yet our guesthouse is the foundation of that tower and the bells rest in vaults beneath it.  If God provides this extremity, perhaps he can provide the stone masons and crafters to make us a tower now that we need one.”

“Do you imagine that it could be so, brother Gospels?”

“Give glory to God brother abbot.  His timing is not man’s timing nor are His thought my thought.  Still, I have long wanted to see those bells installed, and if God will have a fortress, perhaps he will provide it and home for my bells as well.”

“If you find stone-masons then you’ve found a rare thing.  I need such myself.  I plan to raise a wall above the current palisade, but at low tide an army could walk around the fortifications near the water.  I need to extend the wall into the bay or perhaps build a wall across the dockside and fortify the wharf.  Either way I’ll need stone work if it is to be done right.”

“Are you going in?” The question from behind nearly made Iamerge jump out of his skin.  Iamerge whirled to find brother Corinthians behind him.

“I hadn’t yet decided,” he managed, but Corinthians seemed unaffected by his eavesdropping and he calmed.

“They ran me out, or rather invited themselves in and started all that and I felt the call else-where.” Corinthians smiled, “I expect you’re looking for the victuals for the wounded and the pain mendicants.” a look like concern drifted across the old man’s face, “What do you imagine they are on about anyhow?”

Not wanting to reveal what he overheard Iamerge said, “God only knows”

Corinthians beamed, “Surely that is true. He does.”  Being reminded of Providence seemed good enough for Corinthians.  God knew and so he had no need to concern himself.  “Wait here, I’ll get you what you need and be back in a few moments.  Corinthians patted Iamerge on the way by and slipped in to the refectory.

Again I’ve let my chance pass, Iamerge thought.  With nothing to do but wait, he let his attention drift back to the conversation within.

Lugh stalked off into the night.  His mind was a-whirl with thoughts, with memories that he’d shaded with pleasantness only days ago, the pleasure of Von, hopes that she might at least remember him well.  But all such thoughts were ashes.  “They killed her.” Oatie had said and he had seen in her eyes that she even feared the same from him. 

Lugh didn’t even know for sure who “They” might be, but he felt guilt for it.  Guilt for his carelessness if nothing else.  Guilt for not knowing what had become of Von and for what had come of his good intention toward her.  I didn’t think you might be in danger, I only knew that I was.

Lugh heard movement behind him.  He had no desire to talk of it, only to think and be alone with this revelation.  He had long experience with running away, he realized, and so it was no hard thing for him to slip away from Oatie. 

I needed to remember, to sort out my life.  His hand went to the bones on the thong around his neck.  I only wanted good for you, but I did nothing to make it so.  Oh bones of Von, were you ever my friend or only a curse for what I’d done?

The night among the trees was dark, but the sky was full of stars.  Lugh looked to the heavens for answers, but the stars had none.  He walked silently in the night seeking a place to think and await the dawn.  What had he done with the life that Von had given him, it seemed, at the cost of her’s?  Not much to tell.

There had been things to do.  Weyland’s kingdom under the Western Mountains had been endlessly fascinating.  Well, as endlessly fascinating as things got for a god with a short attention span.  I’d quite forgotten that when I fled the Norfolk by the Saffron River, I didn’t stop my running until I reached the Western Mountains and hid myself there.  Weyland had no more love for Lyr than did I, though Lyr wasn’t trying to kill the lord under the mountain.

I’d planned to return to Von, wanted to, expected it, planned that return, but always I put it off until there was no more reason, until Von would have looked more like my mother than a girl like Oatie.  And then, after leaving the mountain halls of Loki, after living among the tribes above the desert south, there was then no chance that she would even be alive at all. 

It wasn’t Lyr that tried to kill me then, no, a daliance in the Gallic south had nearly done for me.  The Cult of the Virgin turned those refugees of the Tuath wars into murderous monsters.  I blame the endless red day and I did not mind leaving all that behind. 

Why am I always blown from one place to another?  Weyland has his mines.  Lyr has claimed the East.  Most of my brothers and sisters live in the misty Islands of the Inner Sea.  Even Bridgit seems to have gone to ground somewhere.  I don’t hear about her moving around like I hear about my old travels.  Strange to hear the tales of your own wandering.

They, whoever They might have been, probably shieldmen of his brother, Lyr, but that was only a guess, They had killed her.  Small comfort, he was not there to defend her, he never went back even to learn that she’d died.  If not for him Von would have lived.  What to do with that realization?

Should he not simply run?  Lugh thought, turning the idea over in his mind much more than he would normally, it was a night for thinking.  Who knew if Lyr would kill him now?  And yet he ran, or at least it seemed for one reason or another, often the same one, he ran and kept running though a trail that Lyr might have followed was now hundreds of years old.  The running began with Lyr, but the habit of it was just that, a habit that had become him, not an action taken for any real reason.

Lugh drifted through a young forest that rose above their camp-site, feeling his way with his feet, arms out to tough the young trees, and eyes that grew ever more accustomed to the starry night. 

This of the Norfolk is good work, he thought, making of a barren land a garden.  Sadness washed over him, If only I had shared this with Von, seen this with her, would she even have come with me?  I wonder.

Lugh came to a prominence, a rocky projection where the land fell away all around him.  He looked up at the blaze of starlight.  Look there is the Stranger, down on the horizon the great dark moon hung.  He gazed at that great hole in the starry host.  Suddenly, Traveller set a glow on the horizon before leaping into the sky, shining in colors of blue and gold and red, as it tumbled into the starry night.  How many times have I seen you, and this time the most surprising of all?  Lugh laughed, where are you going old friend?  Why shouldn’t I come with you?  Oh, that’s right, I can’t fly.

“What am I going to do, Iamerge?” Conal choked suppressing tears.

Iamerge had never been personable in the normal sense.  He had always had too much to hide, but a few times in his life he had allowed personal relationship to worm its way past his defenses.

Daniel, the Jew, was one such, he had been mentor and father figure to a young Smoke when he was moving from the street life into the life of a caravan trader.  Daniel had taught him about mathematics and reading.  Jaleel, the guard captain, had tested, trained, and been a sort of older brother to him, a protector and advocate.  What he knew of fighting he had learned from Jaleel.  Alphaz, the tall, had reminded him of how to sail the seas and what trading can mean, had given him his first command, and treated him as the son he never had. Gospels, the former abbot of Bellton, had saved his life.  All these men, so influential, how then had a one armed man become his friend?

Iamerge went to his friend.  “I don’t know what we are going to do Conal, but don’t worry.”  Iamerge marvelled that Conal, though horribly wounded, could remain positive and even cheerful despite the adversity. This of Niamh was destroying him. “What do you want to do?”

Conal seemed to rally with something concrete to think about. ”I’d like her to have a good life. I want her to be happy.”

“But what do you want to do Conal. You want good for Niamh, but what are you going to do?”

“What can I do? Do you think I don’t know that I’m ruined, as a man, as a husband? I can believe that God could love what’s left of me, the Lord who needs nothing of me, but what woman could?” Conal’s face hardened, “I don’t want her to see me like this. I want to be a brother here where there are no women. No women to see me.”

Iamerge found his way back to the warmth of the fire and the attentions of the monks.  Hebrews saw him first and quickly saw to his cut.  Iamerge was relieved there were no questions, but Hebrews’ curious glances built a need in him to confess.

When he could stand it no more he blurted out, “I couldn’t bear to see Conal die right there beside me, I don’t know why.  I ran off and got tangled in the brush.”  The heat on his neck wasn’t from the fire.

Hebrews’ brow furrowed in thought, “Is that the fellow who had his legs crushed by the ox cart?  I think he is well as can be expected.”

“Surely not, he was all blood and bandages and slipping off to sleep, I thought forever.”

“Not so.  God is good.  He slept for a bit, but he woke as we sang office and I brought him some strong birch tea.”

Perhaps a god who would let a man so mauled live was not so kind as all that, Iamerge thought to himself but said, “That is good news.”

“Perhaps you can see him, if you like.  He asked after you.” Hebrews’ smile was guileless and without reproach, but Iamerge wondered if he in fact intended to heap coals of guilt on his head for abandoning the man.  Whether he meant it or not the effect was the same, Iamerge was guilty.

“I will,” Iamerge allowed.  He began to rise and Hebrews was standing beside to help him up.  “Thanks.” Iamerge turned away as he spoke so he wouldn’t have to see Hebrews or be seen by the man.  His face was hot with embarrassment.

Fortunately, the blue light of Spark hid the color on his face.  Gospels caught him to hand him two bowls of gruel and asked after the bandage on his head.  He had to admit to his cowardice again.  Gospels seemed unfazed and directed him to take the other bowl to Conal as if the monk hadn’t heard him say that he’d run off into the night to avoid the man.

The blue light made Conal look ghastly.  His eyes closed, Iamerge couldn’t believe that the mangled man wasn’t dead, but after a pause to stare, Iamerge saw that Conal’s chest was rising and falling with quick shallow breath.

“Is that breakfast I smell?” said Conal in a weak voice.

Iamerge was pretty certain he jumped, but Conal’s eyes were closed and he rallied well enough, “Yes, I think Gospels made it for us both with his own hands.”

“Truly?” murmured Conal, blood shot eyes opening and a smile spreading across his haggard face, “Did Gospels really do that?  That’s nice.  Thanks for bring’n it Iamerge.”

Iamerge wasn’t sure what to do.  He had never been a nurturer, not naturally.  He sat down awkwardly near enough to feed the other man, he assumed he would have to and fretted about how one should do so.  Before he could set his own bowl aside and take up the spoon, Conal reached for the nearest bowl and balanced it on his chest with practiced ease.

Conal winked, “I lost my other arm years ago.  I’ve got pretty good with the one.” With not another word the one armed man began to eat eagerly.

“Not much to tell.”  Iamerge’s mind raced as he thought over what he should and shouldn’t tell.  The best course always seemed to reveal the least, “I washed up on the Skellig and Gospels was there to pull me out, care for me, feed me, such as there was on that bleak place.”

Jim Cooper nodded, knowingly, “Tis said there’s naught to eat and the saints perch there for months living on water and sea foam, then there’s some who say that their god gives them food, and others that say that they’ve a fat larder there and since they don’t eat here its there they go to eat.”

Iamerge laughed, “Well, as to the larder, I saw none, I ate no sea foam, and Gospels gave me bits of dry fish, some little leaves of green herb, and sometimes raw egg of sea birds on the isle, if it was his god that gave him that to eat then he isn’t a very generous god.”

“You make it sound like there is no fuel at all, nothing to burn.”

“Unless you can make wet stone burn there is naught of that at all.”

“Incredible, how did you live?”

“How did Gospels live before I came?  I’ll tell you I’ve never slept better than I did in their guest house last night.  Not because of any opulence, just not the austerity of the rock.  There are five men out there now.  I don’t know why they do it.”

“No wonder they have produce and more to sell, they don’t eat any of it,”  said Jim Cooper to himself as much to Iamerge.  “What do you know of their god?  I confess, they don’t have much truck with old Jim, but I’ve heard their bell and I’ve heard their weird singing a time or two.  They seem virtuous, but I’d say men that virtuous can only get in the way of a man’s business.  In the end.”

“To tell you the truth I can’t speak to the beliefs of the monks like Gospels, they are new to me as well.  But I can’t say anything against them, they seem virtuous, generous, and good to a fault.  I do take your meaning though, I think.  What’s a man to do who can’t live up to such a standard?  What must they think of those who don’t live as they do?”  Iamerge took another drink from his cup and cleared his throat, “Still, if I understand them, they serve the same God, the Lord they call him, who is served by the Jews that I knew quite well.  It seems to me that they are similar in their kindnesses and that it is their Lord who commands it of them.”

“So, these Jews grew food that they did not eat as well?”

Iamerge laughed at that, “Oh no, not so.  The Jews were adept at trade, at numbers, at drawing value from a thing.  It seems to me that the Jews took part in the blessings that their Lord brought them.  The monks like Gospels are prospered and they choose not to partake, indeed they take pride in denying themselves.  I can’t say if it is their Lord that demands that privation of one and not the other or what the truth of it is.”

“It sounds to me that you’ve travelled a far piece Iamerge.  I’ve never heard of these Jews.  Then again, I’d not heard of these monks either ’til I came here.”

“I would have thought to be the mayor of Rat Town you’d have had to be born here.”

“Oh no, I wasn’t born here, nor most of the rats for that matter.  They come on the boats, but I came from Cooperstown.  I’d be there still if there was one.”  For once Jim seemed a bit sad, “Mayhaps again.  But that’s nobody’s business.  Not yet.” The two men fell silent and they sat and nursed their drinks in the cool darkness.

“So, do you think that Ua Birlinn might have returned by now?”

Jim laughed, “Oh you and Ruaridh will get along famously, all business aren’t you?  I’d like to say that he’d be back by now, but I can’t. I figure you’ve got more of a wait than his returning.  Single minded he is, just like you.  I figure he’ll be about what ever took him out of here so fast a bit longer than it takes him to get there and back.  Don’t you?  Jim got up and moved back around the bar.  “A waste of a day I’d say.  Not like to be see’n visitors, since you’re ask’n me.”  Cooper refilled his ale and looked at Iamerge, “Can I get you a refill lad?”

Iamerge sighed, ”No, thanks.  I think I’ll get the lay of the land at least.  Perhaps I can find out a bit more about what’s happened and when I might speak to Ua Birlinn.  My thanks though, for the ale and the conversation.”

“Suit yourself.  Have a look, but come back by if you like.  I might have found a bit out myself by then.” Cooper winked and walked off toward the kitchen, “I do wonder where ol’ Mare has got to.”

Iamerge rose and went up the dark stair and out into the day.