greatest esteem in your eyes?”
Patrick smiled. “So, you seek to say only what will please me?”
“Is that not what you expect?” Arthur circled the room, taking his time before continuing. “I speak when that is the weapon needed. I pull my sword from my belt when it is
called for. My sword becomes more and more necessary as the Saxons continue to invade the western lands of the Durotrigii and the Dumonii and the other lords of the
consilium
less
ruly.”
I noticed a tightening of the lips on the fat little
monachus
Gildas. His brothers were among those unruly lords. At least the living ones were. But his father’s wealth brought
him no esteem with Patrick, who had sacrificed much to serve the Christ, so he kept his counsel and said nothing. Perhaps he was not as stupid as I thought.
Patrick saw us not. He was focused on Arthur, nodding in what I took to be approval. “I see that the stories they tell of the Rigotamos are, at least, partially true. I am well pleased.
When I wrote to the soldiers of the tyrant Ceredig, it seemed that I was talking to myself. Bloodthirst. Greed. Those are the only things true
tyranni
understand.”
My stomach began rumbling. Apparently, Arthur and Coroticus had eaten while I was seeking answers in the matter of Elafius. I was about to go off to the abbot’s kitchen and see if any
scraps were to be had when Coroticus asked the question we all wished answered.
“Is that why you are visiting us,
episcopus
? To meet the Rigotamos and judge him?”
Patrick smiled and shook his wrinkled old head. “Matters of greater consequence than yet another
tyrannus
have brought me on my journey. The
monachus
Elafius sent me a
message of a disturbing situation here at Ynys-witrin. It seems that Pelagianism has returned to haunt our church. And now, the young
monachus
Gildas tells me that a Gallic woman is taking
a role in the divine sacrifice. This is an outrage and against our beliefs.”
“Why did you not seek out our
episcopus
, Dubricius, himself?” I spoke for the first time. “It was he who brought her here.”
The old head reared back in surprise at my question. “Who are you to question me?”
“Malgwyn is my counselor,” Arthur interrupted.
“And mine as well,” Coroticus hurried to add.
I was pleased that they spoke. Their recommendation gave me at least some standing in an unfamiliar situation.
“You are Malgwyn the scribe?”
“I have been many things in my life. Scribe is one of them.”
Patrick nodded. “I have heard of you. Travelers tell me that you helped stem the rising tide of the Druids, that you helped hold the people for the Christ.”
I shook my head. “I unmasked false Druids only. My intentions and motivations had little to do with the Christ.”
As he cocked his head at this honesty, a lock of Patrick’s white hair fell across his wrinkled forehead. “Your earthly intentions and motivations count for little. The Christ guides
us to do his work through our hearts.”
I wanted to laugh, but I knew this was the wrong setting. “As you wish.”
Patrick nodded as if this were exactly what he expected, total acceptance of his word. He narrowed his eyes and scanned the gathering. “Now, bring unto me the
monachus
Elafius, so
that we might explore this problem of Pelagianism. I do not see him here.”
“You know Elafius,
episcopus
?” Coroticus asked, as surprised as the rest of us.
“Of course. Elafius is the son of a neighbor of ours from Bannaventa. He is a childhood friend of mine. Do you think that I would abandon my mission so readily and hurry here on just any
complaint? I trust Elafius as I would my own blood.”
“Did Gildas not tell you?” I had to deflate the little
monachus,
though I knew that Patrick would not take it kindly. “I would think he would have told you
immediately.”
The old bishop looked at me, again surprised. “What is the matter?”
“Elafius is dead.”
Coroticus and Arthur were not happy.
Patrick smiled. “So, you seek to say only what will please me?”
“Is that not what you expect?” Arthur circled the room, taking his time before continuing. “I speak when that is the weapon needed. I pull my sword from my belt when it is
called for. My sword becomes more and more necessary as the Saxons continue to invade the western lands of the Durotrigii and the Dumonii and the other lords of the
consilium
less
ruly.”
I noticed a tightening of the lips on the fat little
monachus
Gildas. His brothers were among those unruly lords. At least the living ones were. But his father’s wealth brought
him no esteem with Patrick, who had sacrificed much to serve the Christ, so he kept his counsel and said nothing. Perhaps he was not as stupid as I thought.
Patrick saw us not. He was focused on Arthur, nodding in what I took to be approval. “I see that the stories they tell of the Rigotamos are, at least, partially true. I am well pleased.
When I wrote to the soldiers of the tyrant Ceredig, it seemed that I was talking to myself. Bloodthirst. Greed. Those are the only things true
tyranni
understand.”
My stomach began rumbling. Apparently, Arthur and Coroticus had eaten while I was seeking answers in the matter of Elafius. I was about to go off to the abbot’s kitchen and see if any
scraps were to be had when Coroticus asked the question we all wished answered.
“Is that why you are visiting us,
episcopus
? To meet the Rigotamos and judge him?”
Patrick smiled and shook his wrinkled old head. “Matters of greater consequence than yet another
tyrannus
have brought me on my journey. The
monachus
Elafius sent me a
message of a disturbing situation here at Ynys-witrin. It seems that Pelagianism has returned to haunt our church. And now, the young
monachus
Gildas tells me that a Gallic woman is taking
a role in the divine sacrifice. This is an outrage and against our beliefs.”
“Why did you not seek out our
episcopus
, Dubricius, himself?” I spoke for the first time. “It was he who brought her here.”
The old head reared back in surprise at my question. “Who are you to question me?”
“Malgwyn is my counselor,” Arthur interrupted.
“And mine as well,” Coroticus hurried to add.
I was pleased that they spoke. Their recommendation gave me at least some standing in an unfamiliar situation.
“You are Malgwyn the scribe?”
“I have been many things in my life. Scribe is one of them.”
Patrick nodded. “I have heard of you. Travelers tell me that you helped stem the rising tide of the Druids, that you helped hold the people for the Christ.”
I shook my head. “I unmasked false Druids only. My intentions and motivations had little to do with the Christ.”
As he cocked his head at this honesty, a lock of Patrick’s white hair fell across his wrinkled forehead. “Your earthly intentions and motivations count for little. The Christ guides
us to do his work through our hearts.”
I wanted to laugh, but I knew this was the wrong setting. “As you wish.”
Patrick nodded as if this were exactly what he expected, total acceptance of his word. He narrowed his eyes and scanned the gathering. “Now, bring unto me the
monachus
Elafius, so
that we might explore this problem of Pelagianism. I do not see him here.”
“You know Elafius,
episcopus
?” Coroticus asked, as surprised as the rest of us.
“Of course. Elafius is the son of a neighbor of ours from Bannaventa. He is a childhood friend of mine. Do you think that I would abandon my mission so readily and hurry here on just any
complaint? I trust Elafius as I would my own blood.”
“Did Gildas not tell you?” I had to deflate the little
monachus,
though I knew that Patrick would not take it kindly. “I would think he would have told you
immediately.”
The old bishop looked at me, again surprised. “What is the matter?”
“Elafius is dead.”
Coroticus and Arthur were not happy.
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