Divine Sacrifice, The by Anthony Hays Read Free Book Online Page A

print could also clearly be seen on his forehead. In the dead, I had seen that bruises, marks, were more vivid than in the living.
    Waving Ider back, I stared at the cold body and thought for a long while, matching images from his cell with the marks on his body. Books strewn about, as if someone searched there. A silver
denarius
where it should not have been. The marks on Elafius’s body. The yew needles on the floor of the cell.
    Suddenly I jerked from my reverie, almost knocking Ider back into a wall. I grabbed the dagger from my waist and saw that its edge was not as sharp as I needed. I turned to Ider. “Bring me
a knife.”
    His eyes widened like those of a frightened young deer. “A knife?”
    “Ider! We cannot help Elafius now. But by desecrating his body, we may make some sense of his death.”
    Still he hesitated.
    “The blame will be mine. Now, fetch me a sharp knife from the abbot’s kitchen.”
    The young
monachus
scampered away as I continued to ponder. Someone strong had held the
monachus,
forced his mouth open and poured yew extract down his throat. But for that to
have killed him, he would have had to swallow a goodly quantity. I knew enough of battle wounds to have seen men’s stomachs split open and their last meal come spilling out. Now, I would do
it to find the cause of a man’s death, not to kill him myself.
    “What is this nonsense?” I turned to find Coroticus standing imperiously in the doorway, with Arthur looking amused behind him. “You will not cut this poor man’s body
open! It is being prepared for burial. I will not have you desecrate it further.”
    I laughed at him and scratched my half-arm. “If I do not, good abbot, then you will never know what happened to Elafius.”
    “I already know what happened to Elafius,” came a strangely familiar voice. I looked beyond Arthur and saw the chubby young
monachus
Gildas, his freshly shaven tonsure
shining in what little sun God provided on this miserable day.
    Turning, I looked at him. His face wore a smile born of thinking himself too smart. “And how did he die?”
    Gildas stepped forward. “He was killed by the woman
    Rhiannon, from Gaul. I heard them argue about the divine sacrifice. Obviously, she killed him. She is a stout woman, unlike poor, ancient Elafius.”
    “And how did she accomplish this feat?”
    He shrugged. “She strangled him, I should think.”
    I turned to Arthur with a look he knew too well. Turning to Coroticus, he ignored Gildas and entered the fray for the first time. “Give him the knife. I will place my faith in Malgwyn, not
this child.”
    Coroticus wanted to argue. I could tell by how his lips stretched into a thin line. But he trusted me as well, and he dared not dispute Arthur. “Give him the knife,” he ordered Ider,
who looked pained at being caught between such powers.
    I took the knife, not as sure of myself as I once was, and approached the old man with some fear. For a man with my reputation, it was an odd feeling. But I reminded myself that the old fellow
could feel nothing, and so I slit his belly, about where I reckoned his stomach was located.
    I cut carefully, amazed that no blood spilled from the wounds. Fascinated with the things I found, the different creatures that inhabit our flesh, I saw the one I sought. With the greatest of
care, I sliced it open and found the remnants of his last meal. Vegetable pieces mostly. And a few yew needles. Perhaps a small handful of a black liquid that I took to be yew extract. We all knew
how yew needles rendered a man senseless. But there seemed hardly enough to do even that.
    Motioning for Ider to rearrange the lamps, I checked the other organs, not knowing exactly what I was looking for. I worked my way up his torso, looking for anything, something, to account for
his death. Reaching behind his ears, I cradled his head and immediately felt something amiss.
    I rolled it to the right and left and it moved too freely. Something caught inside