The warrior studied the young monk. ‘What compels you? From the moment I found you, like a frightened rabbit, you have been a riddle. I have spent time with many churchmen, but none like you.’
Alric would not meet the other man’s eye. ‘I seek to make amends
…’ He caught himself. ‘I seek to live my life in a godly manner. Shepherding the weak, the hungry, the lost…’
‘I save your life and you immediately throw yourself into more danger. I should have left you to your fate.’
The monk jumped to his feet, his eyes blazing. ‘But you did save me. And now you have saved me twice. You reveal your true nature by your actions, a nature, perhaps, that you are not even aware of yourself. It seems to me that you fight yourself as much as everything that passes within a hair of your sword, and in that, you and I are not so different.’
‘You are a fool. I am not. And I have wasted enough time here.’ Hereward turned to the woman and thanked her for her hospitality, and then to Wulfhere. ‘Take care. The next time you stand alone.’ He strode to the door, but Alric jumped in front of him. ‘Monk, you try my patience. I will not sully this good wife’s floor with your blood, but I will bash the wits out of your head.’
‘Join us in our battle.’
‘You are mad.’ The warrior shook his head in disbelief. ‘How many times must I tell you? I care only for myself.’
‘And what of Gedley? Would I be here now if you were driven by purely selfish motives?’
‘I need the earl’s aid to achieve my revenge,’ Hereward said through gritted teeth. ‘And he provides shelter from my enemies. It would be foolish to stand against him. What gain is there for me in that?’
‘Men achieve more together than they do alone.’ Alric stuck his chin out.
‘One man means survival. Two or more means the opportunity for betrayal.’
The monk softened his tone, holding his arms wide. ‘Two men mean the opportunity for friendship and support and hope. Two men are the start of an army-’
His anger rising, Hereward shoved the cleric aside and stepped out into the stinging snow before he lost his fragile control. He felt as if the world were shifting under his feet. Before he met the monk, his life had been fraught but simple, his choices clear. Association with the churchman had brought only doubt and confusion. Looking over the thatched roofs of Eoferwic, under the pall of grey smoke from the homefires, he saw that the dull red glow on the town’s southern edge had died down. He hoped his actions that day would not cost him dear.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Pressing his cheek against the icy stone wall in the shadows, Alric spied into the golden glow of the candlelit nave. The sweet scent of incense hung in the air around the copper censer. Two figures walked towards the main altar, heads bowed in reverence. A third waited near the font. Their whispers rustled around the vast, echoing interior, larger than any church the young monk had visited in his life. Thirty altars, he had been told when he accepted the Province’s hospitality, though he had not seen even a third of them. Everywhere he looked chapels had been appended, seemingly in haphazard fashion. The place had grown out of all recognition in the four hundred years since King Edwin had ordered the small wooden church that had stood on the site to be rebuilt in stone. Shadows everywhere. Hiding places aplenty. He had hoped to find a sanctuary here, but the oppressive atmosphere that hung over all Eoferwic reached even into this sanctified interior.
Who plotted? Who weaved schemes in search of power and gold? Whom could he trust? Not the archbishop, he was increasingly sure, though it pained him deeply to doubt such a great man. Alric watched Ealdred drift along the nave, the candles casting a looming, hook-nosed shadow on the far wall. His ceremonial mitre gave an odd, flat-topped appearance to the shadow’s head, distorting the figure further. Alric shivered, his breath clouding, but the archbishop would be warm in his green and purple woollen chasuble.
Ealdred was a man who understood the world of power as well as the spiritual realm, the monk knew. He had the king’s ear, and he was close to the Godwins, who wielded such great influence across England. Given a choice between the poor ceorls and the wealthy, where would he stand? Alric thought he knew.
Beside the archbishop, the earl’s wife, Judith, listened intently to the advice she was being offered. Her expression was grave, the darkness in her features emphasized by her white headdress. She wrapped herself in her green woollen cloak, the red embroidery around the hem gleaming like blood.
‘And what does the church think of these dark prophecies that consume the thoughts of the people?’ she was saying in a quiet voice. ‘They talk of voices whispering in the deep forests, and signs in the night sky. Their fears are fuelled by those who still pray to the pagan gods, I am sure. Is the world truly coming to an end?’
Ealdred clasped his hands behind his back, raising his face to the altar. ‘The Revelation of St John tells us of the End-Times. It is… a difficult work and requires much reflection and study. But the words of our own Archbishop Wulfstan come down to us. His Sermon of the Wolf to the English is much discussed by my fellow churchmen and once was proclaimed from every parish pulpit.’ The archbishop pressed two fingers on the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, remembering. ‘ This world is in haste and is drawing ever closer to its end, and it always happens that the longer it lasts, the worse it becomes. And so it must ever be, for the coming of the Anti-Christ grows ever more evil because of the sins of the people, and then truly it will be grim and terrible widely in the world.’ Ealdred opened his eyes and gave a wolfish grin as if he was revelling in the apocalyptic message.
‘And the Anti-Christ?’ Judith asked. ‘How shall we know him?’
‘We will know him, fear not. Wulfstan thought the Vikings in their dragon-ships were harbingers of the End. But now…’ Ealdred shrugged. ‘The king is fading and with no issue, England faces a time of great upheaval. Perhaps this is the time when the Wolf hunts us all.’
Judith blanched and crossed herself.
‘I am sorry. I did not mean to frighten you.’ The archbishop pressed his palms together. ‘We must put our faith in God who will save all good men and women. For now, a strong hand is needed to steady the course of our great ship in these turbulent waters.’ He leaned in close and gave a conspiratorial nod. ‘Now, I will leave you to your prayers. Should you require any more guidance, one of the acolytes will fetch me.’
When Ealdred’s echoing footsteps had disappeared into the depths of the church, Judith knelt before the altar and bowed her head. Studying the slump of her shoulders, Alric thought how troubled she looked.
‘Why do you spy upon my mistress?’
The monk jumped at the harsh voice. He whirled to see that the third figure had crept up on him. It was a woman with a face like the snow outside and hair the colour of raven’s wings. ‘I… I…’ he stuttered.
‘Answer me,’ she hissed, leaning in close. Her eyes were like black pebbles.
Alric thought quickly. He couldn’t say that he was spying on any visitor from Tostig’s hall who might reveal the earl’s plans to deal with the simmering conflict across Eoferwic. ‘I would have news about a… a friend…’ His words tailed away. The woman’s stare was unsettling, and he decided he did not like her.
‘What friend?’
‘His name is Hereward. We travelled to Eoferwic together-’
‘Hereward?’ Her eyes flashed in recognition, but she hid the first glimmer of her feelings before he divined them. ‘What do you know of him?’
‘That he is a good man who hides his true nature behind a fierce face.’
Her laughter reminded him of stones falling on a frozen river. ‘My name is Acha. I will take you to my mistress once she has finished her prayers and you can ask her all you wish to know.’