Dunstan

by Conn Iggulden

  ‘I know he was no friend of yours, Dunstan, but perhaps now you will see how petty it all was. We are given such a brief time here, before eternity, to make all our choices. If he had lived, I don’t doubt you would have become friends.’

  ‘I would have liked that,’ I said.

  It sounded like the lie it was, but he accepted I was trying to be kind. There was no one else around and he leaned closer to me.

  ‘Have you considered leaving with Lady Elflaed? I heard she asked for you.’

  I grew very still, my suspicions flaring. I had come to admire Encarius for his skills and knowledge – and he had shown me kindness at times. I understood that was not enough, that I could not trust him. Friendship has always been a rare seam for me. I have been surprised by it once or twice, yet one thing is always true: when you are surrounded by enemies, the least cruel of them is not your friend.

  ‘I have prayed for guidance in the matter, for a sign to show me if I should stay here and be ordained, or walk a path to the court.’

  ‘I see. Well, you are a young man, so I imagine the idea of the court calls bright and strong in your thoughts. I don’t suppose my advice matters, Dunstan, but I will say it’s all fool’s gold in the end. Very little is important, in this world. Not success, not wealth, not power.’

  He had none of those things, so I imagine his words were a comfort to him. He lowered his eyebrows at me and gripped my arm in his hand. ‘Not love, certainly, though some would have it so.’

  I had also met his wife, so I nodded at that as he went on.

  ‘Not a belly full of food and ale either – why, the sparrows and the crows eat well enough! No – not the work of the forge, nor all the crafts a clever man can win for himself. All that matters, Dunstan, all – is your soul. You have a few years in this poor place, then you are judged for how you spent them – and consigned, either to God’s presence or eternal agonies.’

  ‘Is there no mercy, then?’ I said, uncomfortably.

  ‘You may hope for it, or pray for it. Dunstan, you may not depend on it.’

  ‘Thank you, father. I will think on what you have said.’

  He patted my shoulder and seemed pleased. He’d have gone to the king’s court if Elflaed had asked him. A choice is harder when there actually is one. Encarius would choose to stay, honest and uncorrupted, because no one had called him away.

  Encarius and I walked together to the chapel and sat side by side as we spoke and sang through the responses. I considered whether I should stay for the funeral. It would depend on my new patron, of course. If Lady Elflaed stayed, I would have little choice.

  Wulfric came to talk to me when the service ended. He and I could exchange much in a single glance and I knew he was pleased at Godwin’s fate, though he would not dare to whisper it in that place, where there were always ears to hear and condemn.

  ‘Is it true what they say, Dun? Are you leaving us? James was saying he’d overheard the abbot and Caspar.’

  ‘He should not creep about and listen to what does not concern him, should he?’ I said. Honestly, it was difficult to keep a secret in that place. Monks are worse than nuns for their gossiping, especially those who whisper to their wives at night.

  ‘I am praying for guidance,’ I said once more.

  ‘You should go,’ he said, surprising me. ‘Now that I am healed.’

  I could not help glancing at his arm, or rather where it had been. He smiled and covered the stump with his other hand to shield it from my gaze. We had shaped a leather cup for it that hung from a strap about his neck and had moulded itself in sweat and oil until it was almost a part of him. He hid it, even so, from me.

  ‘I am as healed as I will ever be, I meant,’ he went on. To my dismay, he rapped his knuckles against the scars on his forehead, making me wince. ‘See, Dun? No pain. I know what I owe you and Encarius. I cannot pay it back, it is too great a debt for one life. You will be rewarded in heaven, though.’

  I tutted at that, thinking it a little convenient.

  ‘What matters is that you are alive.’

  I looked more critically at him, past the ridge of scar that slipped beneath his hair, or the missing arm. He was fourteen years old and looked about as healthy as a young hound. I smiled at him.

  ‘Mother will expect you to visit her this Christmas,’ I said. ‘Will you stay on and join the order?’

  I said it because he could hardly work the fields or do a dozen trades with one arm. It seemed to me that whatever Wulfric had wanted for himself, the life of a monastery had chosen him. To my surprise, he blushed and looked away.

  ‘I have exchanged letters with our mother, Dunstan. She has a part share in a business in London, selling woollen coats and fine linen. I can run it for her with one arm, well enough.’

  ‘You haven’t asked me what I feel about that,’ I said, showing him my hurt. He would not meet my eyes and stared across my shoulder.

  ‘You have been concerned with other things, Dun. Like the lady Elflaed. And you saved my life. You shouldn’t have to worry about me any longer. I can find my own way.’

  ‘Alice will miss you,’ I said, wanting to prick the happy little bladder, so full of plans. To my surprise he went a deeper shade of red.

  ‘I have asked Aphra for her, Dun. She’ll go with me in the summer, when I turn fifteen.’

  ‘You’ve been busy then, all of you,’ I said. ‘Whispering away like mice in the corners, bowing your heads together and making your plans. Have you any idea what I have done for you, Wulfric? The lengths I went to for you?’ He looked at me and I thought, yes, he does know. Yet in my youth and pride, I could not stand down from the high step I’d chosen.

  ‘Go on then, to the devil with you all,’ I said, making his eyes widen. ‘Go with Alice and Mother and your small ambitions. I will see the royal court and the king. I will see London, Wulfric.’

  ‘And I wish you joy of it, Dunstan. You have protected me and saved my life. I owe you everything, I know it. Let me get myself settled in the city and I will write to you, wherever you are.’

  His decency and earnest appeal were irritating. I could not trust myself to speak again, so I left him there, calling after me. I yawned as I went and passed a gaggle of the lady’s servants, all staggering under armfuls. It seemed Elflaed could have put an army in the field with all the goods and chattels she had brought to that place.

  I was perhaps a little upset by Wulfric’s happiness. I had often imagined Alice weeping as I left for the royal court, understanding at last that she had chosen the wrong brother. I had not considered her skipping off with Wulfric, hardly looking back. That did not please me, at all.

  I lay down on my bed with my bag under my head to think it through. The lady’s servants were still piling her bags to be carried down to the dock. I had time to rest. I was sweating and as thick with weariness as if I had drunk one of my own numbing liquors. I closed my eyes.

  I came awake to find half a dozen people gathered around me. Encarius was prominent among them and I blinked at him in complete confusion, seeing his nostrils had gone white and pink in rage. Caspar took hold of me as I stared around, unsure even what day it was or if I had woken before. In my confusion, I truly thought I was dreaming or enduring some vision. It took a blow that made my ears ring to know I was awake and that they were trussing me.

  I struggled mightily then, just as I imagine Joseph of Canaan did when his brothers came for him. I roared and demanded to know what they were about, why they were attacking me. Abbot Simeon leaned in when I was well bound and could not get at him. He raised his hand like an old woman, scraping at me with his nails, in a fine, screeching froth. I strained away from him, yelling murder until they muffled me with some rag, wound around my mouth. Unable to cry aloud, I merely waited, going limp.

  Encarius reached into a bag that hung from his belt, pulling out the forge cat in one hand. It hung dead, and yet he trembled as if with great emotion or an ague. I goggled at it, showing them blan
k astonishment even as my stomach fell away within me.

  ‘I found this on the midden pile,’ Encarius said, shaking his head in foolish grief. ‘Where you threw him.’

  I tried to spit out the rag, but it was too tight. I made what sounds I could while they discussed my right to speak. It was Encarius who finally pulled my gag away. I spluttered at him, dry-mouthed.

  ‘You have bound me for a dead cat?’ I said.

  ‘You were the one who threw it on the midden. You were seen.’

  ‘What if I did? Cats die all the time!’

  Encarius grimaced at me, smiling and sad at the same time.

  ‘You dosed it, Dunstan. To test whatever gruel you made for Godwin. What was it, aconite? Death cap?’

  You may be sure I gaped at him.

  ‘That is a lie! How dare you accuse me! I have been touched by angels.’

  ‘No more, Dunstan,’ Encarius said. ‘You are the illness in the wound. And we have agreed to cut you out.’

  He nodded to the others. Though I continued to struggle and wail and plead and bargain, they pulled the gag back over my jaw and put a sack over my head. One of the cowards struck me then with a club, half-dazing me. The sun was high and I thought of Lady Elflaed waiting impatiently for me on the road. I’ve no doubt they watched for her to leave before they went after her favourite.

  She would think I had changed my mind, and the tragedy was that some part of her would be pleased. She would know my labours were devoted to God and the abbey instead of her uncle’s court. She would consider it a righteous decision. As I had the thought, they hit me again and stole my wits away.

  I woke when they threw water over me, then dragged me to the edge of a cliff, so that I could hear small stones skipping and sliding down beneath my feet. Master Gregory of the workshop was one of those who lowered me until I could take a grip on the crumbling edge with my hands. I found some purchase and pleaded with him, but he only pursed his lips and muttered, ‘I’m sorry, lad.’ It was Encarius, of course, who had poisoned them all against me.

  Master Gregory sawed the bit of rope they’d put around my wrists, leaving me hanging on my own weight, with my forearms stretched across in front of me. He plucked the gag from me and I worked dry lips.

  I hardly dared look down and swallowed uncomfortably when I did. They had brought me two miles in my stunned state, to a ridge I knew well. Visible from the highest point of the Tor, it was all stone and green, where only sheep roamed. Even so, with the cold wind howling there, I could not believe my brothers of the abbey would let me break my neck.

  Aphra was present, looking grim and hard-set, with some of the wives and servants in a disapproving group around her. I looked for Wulfric and was pleased they had not made him a part of it, at least. None of the boys were present, which was a relief and showed me those who were felt some guilt at what they were doing. One or two of the masters were missing as well, I noticed – Florian was not there, for example, nor Father John of the gardens. Perhaps they were teaching the boys while the rest carried me up to that place. Still, there must have been thirty men and women there to see me killed – and not a thread of proof between them, beyond a dead cat. If I would have called any one of them my friend, it would have been Encarius – and he had been the one to find it and bring the creature into the light to destroy me.

  I looked at them all, just standing and watching with the sun high in the sky, waiting for the pull of the earth to put an end to my terrible sins along with my life. You never saw such cruelty as I witnessed on those closed, blank faces. Not one of them was fit to carry my tools, and yet there they were, sitting in judgement on me, without trial. I have known hate since, but, by God, I learned it then.

  I could have hung there all day, making my claims in good style, my appeals in dignity. Their response was to send Master Gregory forward once more. He crouched over me and I looked up at him in hope, until he took a mallet to my hands and broke my fingers.

  Still I hung on. Tears streamed from my eyes and they murmured at that, seeing guilt, where it was just agony and rage. I gave up hope and the chance that they would relent. I knew then that I would fall, I would truly fall. It was then that I called Encarius to hear my last confession.

  He could not resist that and he knelt by me, scratching a cross in spit and mud on my forehead.

  ‘Will you pray with me, father?’ I said.

  He nodded, his eyes large with grief and accusation.

  ‘I know you killed him, Dunstan. Perhaps Father Keats as well. The cat is the proof I need. And … I saw you untie the weight on the tower scaffold. You were not carried down by an angel.’

  ‘I would like to confess,’ I whispered. He leaned closer to hear. ‘I had carnal thoughts about a woman.’

  ‘It is common enough, Dunstan, but your mortal sins! Will you go to judgement with them? You will burn if you do.’

  I began to weep and mumble. He leaned right down, so that his ear was close to my lips. I heard his wife call out behind, but he was intent on my confession. I took hold of his robe then, with my broken hands.

  ‘Come with me and see,’ I said, and pulled us both off the edge, into the gaping air.

  It is strange to think my desire for blood and vengeance saved my life. It seems a man can fall a long, long way and live, if he lands on a priest.

  11

  We fell shrieking, tumbling together in the wind with eyes streaming tears. It was an experience almost of madness until we crashed through branches and struck the hard ground. It had not been my intention to land on Encarius, but that is the way it came about. Entangled, we spun through a green canopy. I believe my shoulder and hip drove the life from him as much as the stones below.

  I would like to say that life fled him in an instant. The truth is that I rolled off and ground my teeth in agony for a time, lost in my own distress. When bones are broken, our desire is to huddle around them, to protect the wounded part, not fall from a tower’s height to the unforgiving earth. I hurt and yet I was filled with delight too. I laughed and laughed until I thought I would die for lack of air. They had broken my hands and sat in judgement on me. Yet I lived, despite them all.

  I turned my head, in part to be sure I still could. And I saw Encarius watching me, his face like chalk. Even as I blinked at him in the silence of the forest floor, he coughed blood that ran down his cheek. He blinked and trembled. Death was there with us, in that glade. I could feel a cold wind blowing.

  ‘I am sorry,’ I said, though I was not. I began to laugh again, in relief, until I was sobbing. It was a weak moment and I felt the sting of shame. When I looked up, it was to find Encarius still watching me. I raised my eyes to heaven.

  ‘Did you know Godwin was the one who hurt Wulfric? I think you did. Yet I saw no accusers coming for him! No monks gathered around Godwin’s bed! That was murder, though, what he did. Only you and I made it less. We saved Wulfric, not luck or fate … or God. No, not you, even. These hands. These hands alone!’

  I held up one broken paw to him, swollen and purpled to an extraordinary degree. I winced and put it down again.

  Encarius still breathed, though blood bubbled out of him. I was unable to meet that gaze.

  I was dazed from the fall, from fear and injury and exhaustion. I may have been feverish as well. I know I babbled for a time, weeping and sobbing and telling him all my sins in a great rush.

  It was a while before I truly understood Encarius was dead, that he had been dead for some time. As I struggled up to my elbows, I saw his head was at a strange angle. Though his eyes were open, he did not see. My whirling thoughts settled and sharpened, so that I was myself again. I knew he was gone, but I spoke to him once more, even so. Perhaps because his spirit would hear, or perhaps just because I understood in that glade at the foot of great oaks that I was alone.

  ‘Godwin made his own fate, father, just as a man chooses to walk to war, to face other men. Godwin chose to face me, when he hurt Wulfric unto death. Now he is
gone – and I am here, broken and cast out, because I sought justice.’

  My anger made my thoughts move a little faster. Would those above be scrambling down an easier trail to see where we lay? I did not want to be there when they did.

  I cried out as I sat up, every muscle torn.

  Around us, I frowned as I saw old, yellowed bones. It gave me a start for a moment, when my eyes first traced the shapes. I recognised the skulls and ribs of dogs in the dead leaves. They lay scattered all about on the forest floor, no doubt tugged to and fro by hungry animals when they came across them. They were all stripped bare, and I realised this was a place where dog bodies were thrown when they died. No doubt some local farmer heaved them down, his hunting hounds. I’d seen my father take a favourite dog in his arms to the edge of a steep hill near our farm, coming back alone. He was a sentimental man, in some ways.

  It took me an age to stand, without working hands to help me. I heaved and inched myself up a smooth beech trunk until I stood panting, wet with sweat. They would climb down, I was suddenly certain. Encarius’ wife would insist on it. They’d find him alone and they would be afraid. That was a thought to bring a little joy in all my misery and pain.

  I was filthy with mud, sweat, blood, leaves and scratches. I had taken such a battering I could not stand tall, but had to shuffle and drag, with one eye stinging hard enough to keep closed. I did not dare to touch it with my swollen hands, so tears streamed from it and the pain drove me almost to weeping. Yet I moved. I would not let them take me like a child. I looked back one last time to Encarius and I said a Pater Noster for his soul. He could not say Amen as I limped away through the trees, heading east with the setting sun on my back.

  I wept when I saw the carriage was still on the road, waiting for me. Her servants were ahorse, their heads bowed in boredom. They reached for swords and knives as they heard me coming, then stared at the bedraggled figure that came out of the bushes like Jonah from the belly of the whale. I heard Lady Elflaed’s voice murmur an order and one of her serving women tied back the awning.