stopped and ran to my side.
“Yes, Malgwyn?”
I almost chuckled at his eagerness to please. “Who is that
monachus
there?”
Ider’s face screwed up into a frown. “That is Gildas. He is newly come to Ynys-witrin. Coroticus owed some debt to his father and took the boy in.”
So, this was Lord Celyn’s brother. “Why does he look as though he swallowed sour wine?”
“He has not learned the lesson of humility. Indeed”—and Ider shook his head sorrowfully—“I doubt that he shall ever learn it.”
I nodded in agreement. A lack of humility seemed to be a family trait. “Come with me. I must examine Elafius’s body once more.”
With Arthur and Bedevere busy elsewhere, Ider was visibly more relaxed. “Of course, Malgwyn. I would be honored.”
And so he fell into step with me as we trudged across the muddy ground. Ider had come to Ynys-witrin only in my last months there. He had been such a fresh-faced youngster, so devout and eager
to learn the ways of the
monachi
. I often wondered what drove these boys to so imprison themselves at such a young age. They had hardly sampled the world, and yet they entered into a life
of deprivation without giving themselves the chance to explore that world. I knew that many of them were second sons, unlikely to inherit more than their father’s reputation. So, service to
the Christ was a respectable calling.
“What think you of Elafius’s death, Malgwyn?” Ider shook me from my musings.
I paused before answering, sidestepping a heap of horse dung but landing my foot in a puddle the span of a hand deep. The splatter of water attacked Ider’s robe.
“I think little of it at present,” I finally answered, shaking the muddy water from my
caligae
. “Tell me of Lord Lauhiir. How long has he been here?”
“Just a fortnight. He sent some of his men and workmen to improve the Tor for his arrival. They eat much meat there, Malgwyn.” Ider shook his head, and I laughed a little. We all ate
meat, but not much. It was too rare a food, and the
monachi
kept their diet simple, mostly bread and vegetables. The amounts of meat that graced a lord’s table would have caused sour
stomach in any
monachus,
except Coroticus, that is. His table held as much meat as any lord’s. But such were the differences between abbots and those who served them.
“If that is the worst of his sins, then he is truly blessed,” I answered as we came to the door of the hut. “Please, Ider, attend me a moment. I will not be long.”
The young, pale-faced
monachus
nodded eagerly. “I would learn from you, Malgwyn.”
“Learn what? Learn writing? You are a
monachus;
’tis the brothers who will decide what work would suit you best.”
Ider’s face turned red. “No, Malgwyn. I would learn to solve puzzles as you do.”
“Then,” I said with a chuckle, “you yearn to spend your days in frustration.” With that, I entered the hut once more. Nothing else had been done with Elafius; he lay as
we left him. This time, though, I knew what to look for.
“Light that candle,” I instructed Ider.
“But ’tis still light,” he complained.
He spoke truly, but what little light filtered through the unchinked walls of the old hut and in through the door were hardly sufficient to read a holy text. I needed to read the holiest text of
all, a human body. “Just light it.”
Ider did as he was instructed, and quickly the small cell was filled with a yellow, hazy glow of light.
Once again, I faced the wrinkled white skin, shrunken now; he looked older and but a pale shade of himself. This time there were no shadows to hold secrets. His back from head to foot was dark
though. I had seen such in dead bodies on battle-fields before. I knew not its cause, but I knew it happened at some time after death.
I looked first at the place where his jaw connected with his skull. The finger impressions were obvious, on both sides. “Bring the flame closer,” I directed. Just as I thought, a
palm