Traveller Inceptio

31

On arriving back at the monastery after the distribution of the meat, Michael headed to his cell to find Brother Horsa patiently awaiting him. The older man’s tonsure formed a ring of hair that didn’t meet above his forehead and Michael imagined his baldness would make his the most easily managed tonsure in the monastery. Brother Horsa was, by nature, serious and intense, with a boundless curiosity that caused him to constantly ask questions. He had often seen the monk wandering alone in the forest with a basket of one herb or another. On catching sight of Michael, Brother Horsa hurried to him.

“Lord Michael, the Abbott asks for your urgent council.”

Wearily, Michael looked to Brother Horsa and saw a genuine urgency in his request. Tired, bloodied, and stinking, Michael shrugged and followed the monk to the Abbot’s official meeting room. He needed a thorough wash, and perhaps a swim in the creek, to soak the grime, blood, and boar stink from his hair and clothes. Yet he had never been summoned with such urgency and he suspected something had happened that had nothing to do with the arrival of fresh meat to the brothers’ table.

His tiredness and filth momentarily forgotten, Michael followed.

Michael believed Brother Aldfrid was truly a humble man, one who did not seek to engender the outward trappings of power or wealth. His was a life dedicated to a genuine closeness with God while guiding and encouraging his fellow monks and the villagers to a life of greater spirituality and joy. He had once confided that he sought an ever-closer relationship with his God and knew that, with worship and faith in the sacrifice of His Son, any man, woman and child could be saved. Michael observed him as he toiled day and night to bring that blessing to the lives of all he met. He never encouraged his title as Abbott, insisting instead on being addressed as Brother. However, he was still the abbot and, as such, enjoyed official quarters that were rarely used. His meeting room, instead of housing furniture and decorative arts to rival a thegn, was a simple place with a heavy table and benches where private consultations took place. His only concession was that the walls were daubed, limed, and then painted with the vine that decorated the walls of the church and the village hall. Michael had since learned that Brother Aldfrid, with the assistance of one of the young initiates and a Breton slave, had painted the design. The paints were made from plant dyes, crushed ore, and oils, and had been applied with love and care, a testament to the gentle, loving worship and strength of this holy man.

Michael had only seen the private sanctum of Brother Aldfrid on a couple of occasions and knew it was truly a sanctuary, a place of reflection used only on special occasions. As he and Brother Horsa arrived, they found Brother Aldfrid pacing nervously in the cloister. While the remaining monks went about their labours in anticipation of the taste of the boar roasting over the cooking fire, Brother Cearl waited anxiously off to one side. On seeing Michael, he guiltily covered his face with both hands. The scene, of nervous anticipation, was unusually intense. Michael recognised a tinge of fear in Brother Cearl, yet hope and excitement from Brother Aldfrid. On Michael’s arrival, the Abbott immediately invited the weary hunter to join him and sit on one of the benches in the cloister. He then asked Brother Horsa to lead Brother Cearl away, as they needed privacy.

Brother Aldfrid sat for a moment, head bowed, eyes closed and hands clenched nervously in front of him in what could only be intense prayer while Michael sat looking on with a frown of concern. Something had happened.

Something that involved him.

The Abbot ceased his silent prayer and then sat a moment in contemplation before he turned to Michael. There was uncertainty, excitement, and a little fear as the man of God began to speak earnestly in his usual quiet voice. “Lord Michael, we have a boon to ask of you. We believe the Lord God and the Blessed Virgin have sent you to us to give us succour in these dark times. There is a fear upon the land; of the destroyer, the Vikings, who are a blight upon our people. They seek to turn all to ash, and to thwart them, we have been commanded to take possession and care of a treasure of God.”

His lips quivered and his eyes filled with tears as he suppressed intense emotion, then he brusquely wiped his eyes with the palms of his hands and continued. Michael had never seen the normally calm Abbot so overcome. “In answer to our pleas to God the Father and his Son, the blessed Virgin inspired Brother Oeric to flee from the world to the forest, to trust in the hands of the Lord and seek His council and blessing. Brother Oeric was to fast and pray until our prayers for guidance and help were answered. After only three days, our prayers were answered. God sent you to us!”

Michael tried not to show any emotion. After his time at the monastery, the reason why the monks and villagers held him in such special regard was now fully explained. Brother Aldfrid looked upon him as if he was an answer to prayers, but all he felt was filthy and tired. Brother Aldfrid turned from Michael’s gaze and looked to his own hands, clenched together at his knees as he leaned forward earnestly.

“For some years, the Danes, the destroyers, have sought to take their revenge on our people. Four summers hence the king, Aethelred, and his witan, decreed that all Danes living among us were to be killed. This terrible deed took place on St Brice’s holy day. Many were slaughtered. We heard tales of the women attacked by vicious dogs, of children crunched against doorposts while the men were murdered in the most horrible fashion.” The Abbott took a sobbing breath before he continued. “Throughout the land, good Aenglish men attacked their neighbours, committed murders and all sorts of evil against innocents. Here at Giolgrave, we were spared from the madness. Godric and I swore a holy oath that no such command would be given, while the people of the village prayed for the souls of the Danes slaughtered throughout the land. We have only a few Danes. Hilda, beloved wife of Godric, is one.”

Brother Aldfrid hunched his shoulders, head bowed as he continued in almost a whisper. “God forgive us! Godric hid our Danes by taking them to the caves in the forest. After the madness, they returned and took up their lives again but we knew their kin, the Vikings, would return to our land to wreak vengeance. They have always been upon the land, killing and burning. Many Danes had family slain and there has been the fear that they will overrun us. Godric has recently received messengers who bring news that the Vikings have attacked Sandwic and the King has called the men of Wessex and Mercia to arms. There is fear upon the land, Lord Michael, and in God’s mercy you have been sent to us.”

Brother Aldfrid looked up to Michael calmly. “A messenger from our brothers in Snotengaham advised that they pray for us to take charge of an important treasure. Now with you, Michael, soldier of God and protector, we can do their bidding. You now know our speech and many of our humble ways. We petition that you accompany some of our brothers to Snotengaham and take possession of a most valuable Psalter, so we can protect it from the destroyers. I fear they’ll conquer all, just as they promise.”

He looked pleadingly at the weary hunter. “Please, Lord Michael. You’re an answer to our prayers and we beseech you.”

Michael was touched, and dirty and grimy he might be, he had no doubt as to his response.

“Brother Aldfrid, your hospitality and kindness have made me a brother to your brothers and a friend to Giolgrave and its people. While I cannot tell of my full purpose here, I will, of course, accept your request for help. My sword will aid and protect the passage and return of the brothers to Snotengaham.” Michael grasped Brother Aldfrid’s wrists gently. “I thank you for the chance to repay the blessings you and God have bestowed on me.” He smiled to relieve the tension he felt in the other man.

Brother Aldfrid relaxed slightly and smiled, closed his tearful eyes and gave thanks to God in a muttered prayer while Michael patiently waited. He looked up at Michael, who watched him closely. “Lord Michael, we have another important matter to discuss. We must ask your forgiveness as we have transgressed against you.” He paused at the faint frown on Michael’s face and looked daunted as he continued. “As you were in the forest, Brother Cearl became fearful that you had left us. As you know, Brother Cearl has a great love for you, my Lord, and he went to your dwelling to seek you. Even though you had warned that we are not to touch your possessions, he found them and brought them to me.”

Michael leaned forward and spoke quietly, his gaze burning into Brother Aldfrid’s eyes and he spoke slowly and distinctly. “Where is my gear?” he asked.

The Abbott suddenly looked terrified.

“Where are my possessions?” Michael asked again and fought to keep calm as he unconsciously grasped Brother Aldfrid’s upper arm in a grip of iron.

Brother Aldfrid winced as the fingers bruised and he pointed to the closed door to his sanctum. “Brother Cearl took them into the forest.”

Standing suddenly, all weariness having fled, Michael hauled Brother Aldfrid none too gently to his feet. The Abbott quickly opened the heavy door to reveal Michael’s empty pack, cloak, musical instrument, and swords. The contents of his pack were spread over a small, sturdy table. Brother Aldfrid stood, eyes wide, his hands to his mouth in distress.

Michael scanned the table. Seeing nothing amiss, his fury dissipated. He pinched the skin between his eyes, suddenly exhausted.

***

The Abbott looked at his friend, terrified. Though they hadn’t committed any sin against their most holy guest, that might not prevent the wrath of the Lord from falling upon them. Aldfrid watched Lord Michael carefully. He was an enigma, a mixture of man and angel. Time and again he had proved himself to be so unlike the men of the world, yet he struggled with many of the flaws that beset mankind. Perhaps this was a test upon them all?

“Do you know if anything has been removed or taken?” asked Michael quietly.

“No, Lord. Brother Cearl did not take anything, I swear, and no one else has seen nor touched your possessions.” Brother Aldfrid gazed at the items on the table in awe.

Michael nodded. He walked to the table, lit by a shaft of afternoon sunlight through the open doorway, and began to carefully pack the items into his leather pack. There were coils of the most beautiful ribbon with colours that shone, small leather bags of gold and silver pieces worth a king’s ransom, ingenious bags of dried food, and a couple of items that possessed little stars that shone brightly, even in the sunlight.

“There is one item that I found,” pointed Brother Aldfrid. “I discovered Brother Cearl playing with it. Your possessions had been neatly placed on the ground around him.”

Michael frowned at the blue metal item to which the Abbott pointed. “Surely this is a mystery made by angels,” continued Brother Aldfrid, unable to control his curiosity. Michael grasped the item and glanced at the words carved upon it. ‘SIG Hauer P226 SIG Arms USA’ meant nothing to the Abbott. “It is indeed mysterious, Lord Michael.”

Lord Michael’s jaw tightened and he glared at Brother Aldfrid, then wearily closed his eyes and shook his head. In a sudden move, he pulled the item apart and laid the pieces on the tabletop. His fingers moved swiftly as he checked the parts that included a small, finely crafted metal pocket with bronze tubes in it. Despite his fear at having fallen out of favour, Brother Aldfrid looked on in fascination as the angel swiftly put the club back together again with a series of sharp clicks.

Lord Michael spoke firmly and carefully. “None of you are to touch these items, Brother. Some of these you’ll understand, and I have them for a purpose, but other things will be a mystery to you. I have them for purposes known only to me and God.” He sighed in obvious relief. “Nothing is missing, as you said, nor is anything broken. Most importantly, Brother, never touch this!” Michael waved the small club around and handled it with a careful familiarity.

“What is it, Lord?” asked Brother Aldfrid with great puzzlement.

“It is a finger of God, Brother Aldfrid. Brother Cearl could have been struck down for touching it and there would have been no way I or you could have helped him. I’m only grateful he was spared.”

***

Michael was only relieved the monks had come to no harm. With a sharp snap, he loaded a 9mm round into the pistol’s firing chamber, locked, and then placed it back into the special holster fitted in his pack.