“Is that important for you to know? I do not think Arthur bears any guilt in the death of Elafius or the spread of Pelagianism.”
He nodded. “No, but his shadow lies heavily across the land. Even in Hibernia, I hear of the great Arthur, his strength, aye, his compassion. These are not traits that I normally apply to tyranni. Coroticus tells me that you have not always been with Arthur, that for a long while you hated him. But then you suddenly emerged as his champion, ferreting out a conspiracy against Britannia and the church. I have seen enough of you to know that, sober, you are a man of caution, a man of intelligence, and not a man easily frightened or cowed. So, I must know why a man such as you chooses to serve a tyrannus.”
I studied that face once again. It was stern, yet not hostile. He would have his answer or I would be pestered with the question and little work would be done. I remembered a phrase in an old manuscript I had copied for Coroticus. “You proceed from a false premise, Patrick. Arthur is not a tyrannus. You use too large a brush, and hence you paint too many men with your accusations. Are there tyranni among us? Of course. Most of the members of the consilium are but tyranni striving to appear noble. We have iudices in our larger towns and they are unjust. You have priests who are not holy. But you have priests who are good and godly men. We have iudices who are just. Some members of the consilium are noble and good men—Bedevere, Kay, and most especially Arthur. You cannot view the world in such absolutes, Patrick. All is not good or evil. Whatever god or gods created this world, it was not done in absolutes.”
“Do you deny that good and evil exist?”
“No, but I would say that all men are capable of good and evil. Good men sometimes make decisions that result in evil. Sometimes evil men make decisions that result in good.”
Patrick shook his head slowly. “You live in a confusing world, Malgwyn. And though I am not the shrewdest of men, I note that you have carefully skirted appraising Arthur as I requested.”
I hung my head. He might think himself not very shrewd, but there was little that he missed. “Arthur is . . . Arthur. He is a unique man, at least a unique man to hold his position.”
“And how is he unique?”
I considered the question. “He has a conscience. He cares about something more than the heft of his purse. Arthur cares about the lives of his people.”
“Malgwyn, you will forgive me if I do not accept your word with my whole heart. I have been observing nobles such as your lord Arthur for many, many seasons now. I have heard several claim to care for the people, but they were words only. I have seen these tyranni slaughter women and children in a border village of a neighboring lord and call their actions necessary to protect their own people. Can you tell me that this is just? That this is godly?”
“No, I cannot tell you that. But I can tell you that it is the way of the world.”
“I am not a wise man, Malgwyn. I have often wondered why God chose me to minister to the Scotti. For He knows what suffering they have caused me. And He knows that there are many other men smarter than me. But if one accepts your words, that this ‘is the way of the world,’ does it yet relieve us of our responsibility to try to make this a better world?”
I stood swiftly, a frown spreading across my face. The old man’s protestation that he was not wise was at the least self-serving and inaccurate. He had driven the talk in this direction because he knew that if I disagreed with him, I was putting the lie to my own actions. The damp weather gave body to the manure used in mudding the cell walls. It was an appropriate odor.
“Be at ease, my new friend,” Patrick counseled. “Please sit. We are not enemies, and I find much to like in your Lord Arthur.”
I planted myself back on the stump and waited for Patrick to begin again. And once more, he looked not at me but into the distance.
“I tell you this, Malgwyn, because I feel that I can trust you. I have encountered few men who are so universally respected, especially few men who have also been so universally pitied for being a drunk.
“I am engaged in a battle, Malgwyn. The church fathers in Rome are attempting to take my life’s work from me.”
“Why?” Patrick’s work was known far and wide, as the Briton who had brought the pagan Scotti to the Christ. He was the kind of man around whom legends were spun.
“I told you of a great and horrible sin I committed as a youth, and of my best friend whom I confided in. He kept not my confidence. Officially, it is that sin, they claim, that keeps me from being qualified as a bishop. Unofficially, they believe I have become too powerful in the church. They fear me, and what they fear they remove.”
An understanding struck me. “You did not come here in search of Pelagianism at all. You came here to speak to Elafius about this sin of yours. Elafius was your best friend, the man who betrayed you to the church, and you came seeking revenge.”
He turned toward me then, the wrinkles in his face seeming deeper somehow. “No. Elafius was the brother of the girl I killed, and I came seeking his forgiveness.”
I was fifteen years old, young and fanciful. We had few needs then; the Roman withdrawal was just completed and our larders were still full. Except for the occasional raids by the Scotti, we felt safe and secure. My father and grandfather were still important men in our town. Indeed, my grandfather, Potitus, was a presbyter and my father a deacon. During the Roman time, they had been engaged in the collecting of taxes, and with the Roman army leaving us, they too were at somewhat of a loss. My older brothers and the servi handled the farm work. My mother and sisters busied themselves with the management of our town house and villa. I had few duties except to be young and have fun with my friends.
My closest friends were Elafius and his sister, Addiena, and my dearest friend of all, Tremayne, son of our neighbor Trahern. Elafius, Tremayne, and I were all of nearly the same age, but Addiena was somewhat younger. We chased each other and played games, fished, hunted.
That summer we had not yet seen all the changes that would soon take place. The elders knew, but they put on a cheerful face and went about conducting their business normally. An undercurrent of fear was palpable but we played anyway; uncertainty in our elders was something we did not want to acknowledge.
I was old enough to understand the changes that were happening to me physically. At our country estate we had animals. I was not the smartest child, but I was not stupid either. I knew how those urges in me could be served, but I had no practical understanding of the matter. That summer, as I was going to meet my friends, I happened upon two of our servi in a barn. I saw them and then I understood the coupling. The woman seemed to enjoy it as much as the man. They did not hear me and I did not disturb them.
Elafius, Addiena, and Tremayne were to be waiting for me at a little spring on the far side of our estate. People rarely ventured there, and it was a good place for children to play. But when I arrived, Addiena was alone.
I saw immediately where this story would lead, and though Patrick was speaking softly, I glanced around nervously, but no one else was near. We looked for all the world like two colleagues in rapt discussion. I yet started to caution Patrick, but his raised hand stopped me before I made a sound.
She turned and looked at me as I approached, and she smiled. Addiena was such a pretty child, long brown hair and already the beginnings of a mature form. She favored games where she would hide and we would find her, if we could. She had a quick laugh. Seeing the servi had stirred strong emotions in me. Seeing Addiena made me wonder at what the servi found so pleasurable. And I resolved to take this chance to find out. I will not tell you the rest except to say that she was frightened by this new game I was showing her, but I had gone beyond being able to stop the demon in me. I tried to force myself on her. She began screaming and I covered her mouth, tighter and tighter, frantic now because I knew that Elafius and Tremayne would be drawing near. And then she stopped struggling, stopped screaming, stopped breathing. I swear to you that I stopped breathing too as I looked down an
d fully understood the horrendous thing I had done. The shame and the horror soaked me like a chilling rain, and I shivered beneath the hot sun.
I leaped to my feet and ran as fast as I could back home, praying that neither Tremayne nor Elafius had seen me. I rushed inside the villa and straight into my father’s arms. He asked me what was wrong, and unable to think of anything else, I told him of seeing the servi. I was out of breath and he assumed that I had been confused by what I saw. He laughed and told me that we would need to talk later.
In a few hours, Elafius, his father, Tremayne, and a few other men appeared at our villa. They told of how Addiena had been found, strangled, abused. I could not hold back my tears, though I believed that they would know immediately that I had done this thing. But all believed it was because I was distraught. Except Tremayne. He just looked at me oddly and said nothing.
In the community, speculation was that some rogue or servi had done this deed. The men, organized by my father, mounted their horses and patrolled the countryside. On the third day, they found traces of where a Scotti raiding party had put in on the coast, some miles away. Although they were able to trace their movements to a point not far from where Addiena had been killed, it ended there. Her death was ascribed to the Scotti raiders anyway. It seemed the most likely story.
A fortnight later, Tremayne and I were walking across the field, near the spring where Addiena had died. Tremayne was a good lad, my best friend. His father was a decurion just as mine was. We had been born the same year and raised as neighbors. I was somewhat larger than he, and he had an inquisitive nature that had escaped me. Indeed, Tremayne was smarter at fifteen than I have ever been.
“I saw you that day, Patrick,” he said to me. “What day?” I asked. “The day that Addiena was killed. I glimpsed you running away, but Elafius did not see.” I was shaking inside, and a cold sweat bathed me. I could lie, but Tremayne would see through it. He stopped and sat in the grass. “Tell me what happened,” he said. And I did.
“Patrick!” I stood aghast, the only thoughts running through my head those of a husband who has seen a wife so ravaged. Perhaps the church was right, perhaps a man with such a past had no place in Hibernia. I dropped my head and shook it. “Episcopus, I have a hard time reconciling the man before me with the monster that could force himself on a child!”
For his part, Patrick did not beat his breast or bray at the world. He said simply, “We were all children then.”
Something in the simple way he said it told me much about how long and how deeply his transgression had haunted him. Rather than dwell on the deeds of decades past, I tried to focus on the here and now.
“And this Tremayne is now the man who has betrayed you to the church fathers?”
“He kept that secret for many years. What circumstances occasioned this betrayal, I do not know. He too has had his difficulties with the church over the years.”
I thought Patrick was being a little too understanding and I said so.
“It is how I am, Malgwyn. But Tremayne’s betrayal was just a fraction of my own. I betrayed my friendship with Addiena and Elafius. And that betrayal is far worse than any visited upon me by Tremayne. Just a few months later, I was taken by Scotti raiders and sold into slavery in Hibernia. I often wonder if Tremayne would have kept his silence so long had I not been taken. I was six years under the control of my Scotti masters. By the time I escaped and made my way home, too much time had passed and Tremayne had left home to find his way in the world. Elafius was already in the Christ’s service.”
Then it was my turn to look off across the land, its curves still shrouded in mist. “I have, in my time, traveled to Bannaventa and the surrounding countryside, Patrick. Nowhere in my travels have I heard of a man named Tremayne. Where does he live now?”
And Patrick smiled. “He entered the Christ’s service before I did, after studying in Gaul, but he changed his name as so many do when they enter into such a life. I strongly doubt that he has any involvement in the present affair here. He was a headstrong youth and angered the church fathers greatly. His has not been an easy life, and I know not what has become of him, or even if he be still alive.”
“Why come here to apologize to Elafius now? Surely it would have been better had you done it much earlier.”
Patrick shrugged. “In truth, I was not sure where he was. He studied some little bit in Gaul, but I always suspected that he would return here, to his homeland. His letter about Pelagianism gave me a reason that even Dubricius could not find fault with. Bishops are very protective of their territory. And I have drawn their wrath before when I chastised a tyrannus here who raided into Hibernia and killed Christians.”
“Then why would Dubricius not complain now? Of this Pelagianism.”
“I believe that Dubricius has always been a secret follower of Pelagius. But Pelagianism is so overwhelmingly opposite to what the church believes that Dubricius does not dare to appear to support it. Remember that they sent Germanus to combat Pelagianism twice, once with Lupus and once with Severus. And I happen to know that Severus is in Britannia now. Indeed, Malgwyn, it is Severus who is leveling these charges against me. He is a driven man. It would take little to get him to wage a new crusade against Pelagianism. He was the darling of the church when he stood with Germanus. I suspect that now he seeks to regain some of that glory. Dubricius cannot be sure who else Elafius wrote to, so it behooves him to suffer my presence here, thus allowing him to give the appearance of fighting Pelagianism while, in actuality, ignoring it himself.”
I studied the old episcopus carefully. “Affairs between lords are treacherous, my new friend. But I never dreamed that they could be as devious and duplicitous within the church.”
Patrick stood, smoothing his robe. “Then you have much education ahead of you, Malgwyn. Come, let us begin our day’s work.”
“A moment, episcopus. Why did you tell me all of that? You had no need. I am no one, just a simple man, counselor to a king who cannot claim that his household is as one on any issue. A man you had never met before yesterday.”
“Because I sense in you a man in whom trust can be placed. Because after I leave here, I shall appear at a special commission at Castellum Marcus before Dubricius and Severus and others, where my continuance as episcopus of Hibernia will be decided.” He stopped then and turned to me. “I have a confessio written out, and I wish you to take it should something happen to me.”
“But Patrick, choose one of the monachi who wait on you. You know them, and they are of your faith.”
“That is why, Master Malgwyn, I have chosen you. Do not worry. I do not plan on missing the meeting at Castellum Marcus. But, were something to happen to me . . .” He reached down into a bag, retrieving something. “Take this scroll,” he said, handing it across to me. “It is my confessio, much as I have given it to you already.” I took it without eagerness.
Patrick stopped for a moment and looked around our Ynys-witrin. “Should God visit my death on me here, this would be a pleasant place for my earthly body to await the resurrection. But put no marker for me, no sign of where these old bones lie. That will suit me best. I have attracted enough attention in life to satisfy one in death.”
All I could do was nod. And we continued to navigate the remainder of the path up to Coroticus’s hall where we would hold court that day. “Tell me something, Malgwyn,” Patrick asked after a moment. “Did Elafius suffer much?”
I thought of the hands and fingers that held him, those that gripped his jaws and forced them open. And then I lied. “No, episcopus. His was a quiet passing.”
Patrick nodded absently. “I am glad. As a child, Elafius was a giving, caring person. He knew no strangers, and he would give them anything they asked. Why do you think he was murdered?”
That was a question I had been pondering much. “He knew something that was important enough for men to kill him. Now, whether this same information was important to you or to Arthur, I do not know.”
�
��Why not important to the abbot?”
“He could be as easily murdered as Elafius. The person that needed Elafius silenced was not afraid of Coroticus. What Elafius knew or what he represented was far more dangerous; his secret has implications far beyond Ynys-witrin.”
Patrick stopped in his tracks and spun around. “How know you this?”
I halted before him. “Think, episcopus, your arrival has been heralded here since you set foot on the coast. Swift runners brought news within hours that you were headed this way. Arthur’s arrival has been common knowledge even longer.”
“So. What does this tell you?”
“Elafius was murdered suddenly, in somewhat of a hurry. He needed to be eliminated and something he had in his possession had to be taken.”
“You can read minds, it seems?”
“No, his cell had been searched hastily by the time I arrived here. Someone was looking for something and they did not have the time to be pretty about it.
“My guess is that it was your arrival that hastened Elafius’s death.”
“Why say you so?”
“The Rigotamus has been scheduled to visit for more than one moon. Your visit was only known for certain a few days hence. The search of his cell was something done in extreme haste. No plan had been laid beforehand.”
“What brings this talent to you?” Patrick asked. “It is a valuable one and one that you should cherish.”
“I have no idea, episcopus, but it is with me.” I stopped and held the door to Coroticus’s hall open to him.
He laid his hand on my shoulder as he passed through. “It is a special gift, but one that may make you the mark of assassins.”
“I have harbored such thoughts myself,” I grumbled in his wake.
“I will defer to you in this matter, Malgwyn. Your experience is better suited to an inquiry of this sort. Rooting out Pelagianism is one thing. But this is now a murder inquest, and that is more properly your territory.”
He was right, but I was surprised at his willingness to cede authority. Though I knew that finding Elafius’s killer was unlikely to preserve his bishopric, Patrick did not seem a man willing to cede any authority for any reason.
Divine Sacrifice, The Page 11
