‘It was lucky then, innkeeper, that we came here by way of the sea from the kingdom of Kent,’ he reflected.
‘Ah, so you did not come through the lands of Sigehere and Sebbi?’ Cynric’s puzzled face lightened a little. ‘You were blessed in your choice of route. But even here among the South Folk there is some friction between Christian and pagan. The conflict has spilt over the border and Sigehere is trying to stirup the dissension so that he might find allies among us. Outlaws prowl the marshlands and, of course, we also have to contend with threats of war from our western neighbour, Mercia. They mount constant raids against us.’
‘When was Mercia not a threat to the kingdom of the East Anglians?’ Eadulf smiled with grim cynicism. All through his life, he could remember little else but the continued warfare between the East Anglian kingdom and the Mercians.
‘Our King, Ealdwulf, has recently rejected the King of Mercia’s demands that East Anglia pay him tribute. Since Ealdwulf’s mother, Hereswith, is a princess of the Northumbrian royal house, we can expect an alliance to keep the Mercian threat in check. We have good prospects before us if King Ealdwulf can keep the internal conflict between pagan and Christian from spreading here. And this is what I warn you of, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham. Do not assume that everyone will greet you and your companion as friends and respect your cloth. There is much bitterness abroad in our land. Some thanes have even threatened to declare allegiance to Sigehere of the East Saxons unless King Ealdwulf renounces Christianity. There is much trouble brewing, Brother. You have chosen a dangerous time to return home.’
Brother Eadulf sighed deeply. ‘So it seems.’
Cynric placed another log on the fire. At that moment the door on the far side of the room opened, and a tall, red-haired religieuse entered. She smiled quickly at Eadulf.
‘My robes are dry now and I am warmer than when we arrived.’ She spoke in Irish which was the common language between them. ‘I think that I would like some mulled wine to give warmth to the inner body.’
Eadulf returned her smile warmly and gestured to a chair by the fire near him.
‘I doubt that a Saxon inn will have wine, but there is good cider, or mead if you wish.’
‘Cider before mead if there is no wine,’ she replied.
The innkeeper stood patiently during this exchange, not understanding.
‘I don’t suppose you have wine, innkeeper?’ Eadulf asked.
‘You would be wrong if you had supposed it, Brother. Where would I be able to purchase wine, and if I did so who wouldbuy it? The shipments of wine that are landed at Felix’s Stowe go mainly to the abbey there or to some of the other monasteries along the coast. You’ll find wine at Aldred’s Abbey but not here.’
‘Then serve my companion some of your best cider.’
The innkeeper looked at the religieuse and asked Eadulf: ‘Your companion does not speak Saxon, then?’ He was surprised when the tall religieuse turned and spoke to him in a halting fashion.
‘Enough to follow the conversation in general terms, innkeeper. But my knowledge is not good enough to understand all the nuances of your tongue.’
The innkeeper bowed his head a moment in reflection. ‘I’ve heard it said that the people of Ireland are versed in all the languages of the world.’
‘You flatter my people. Our missionaries certainly try to achieve proficiency in several tongues to accomplish their task. Latin, Greek, a little Hebrew, and the languages of our neighbours. But our ability is neither greater nor less than that of others given the same circumstances and opportunities.’
Eadulf nodded approvingly, overlooking one or two small lapses in grammar.
The innkeeper filled another tankard and handed it to her. While Fidelma sipped appreciatively, Eadulf ordered a meat pie, which Cynric told him was a speciality of the inn, for their supper.
‘This innkeeper says that we will not reach Aldred’s Abbey this night,’ Eadulf began, when Cynric had vanished to prepare the meal.
‘I don’t doubt it,’ replied Fidelma solemnly with a glance towards the tiny, snow-blocked window. ‘I have never felt it so cold, or seen snow so like little flecks of ice.’
‘Yet Brother Botulf was specific. He wanted me to arrive at the abbey before midnight tonight. The message he sent to me at Canterbury was underlined at that point.’
‘He must make allowances for the weather,’ rejoined Fidelma, with a shrug. ‘This storm puts the matter entirely out of your hands.’
‘Nevertheless, why did he underline the time and date?’
‘You say that this … Botulf? I find your Saxon names stilldifficult to pronounce. You say that Botulf is a good friend of yours?’
Eadulf nodded swiftly. ‘We grew up together. He must be in serious trouble, otherwise he would not have written such a message.’
‘But he did not explain anything in the message. He must take your friendship for granted if he presumed that you would leave Canterbury and come rushing to him.’
‘He would guess that if I was at Canterbury, then I would be travelling to my home at Seaxmund’s Ham. He would assume that my path would lie by his door,’ replied Eadulf defensively. ‘My home is only six miles further on from the abbey.’
‘A strange friend, that is all I say,’ sighed Fidelma. ‘Is he the abbot of this abbey?’
Eadulf shook his head. ‘He is the steward. I was told at Canterbury that someone called Cild is the abbot, but I have never heard of him.’
Cynric re-entered, bearing a tray with a hot meat pie on it which he set down at a nearby table.
‘If you will be seated at the table, I shall fetch more cider with which to wash your meal down.’
The pie looked and smelled good and soon the howling wind outside was forgotten as they savoured the meal. Eadulf explained something of what Cynric had told him about the conflict between the Christians and pagans. Sister Fidelma looked at her companion with some sympathy.
‘It must be difficult for you to hear this. However, it is surely balanced against the pleasure of seeing your home again.’
‘It is a long time since I was last at Seaxmund’s Ham. I am indeed looking forward to seeing it again.’ He glanced anxiously at her. ‘I am sorry if I seem selfish, Fidelma.’
Her eyes widened for a moment. She was thinking that she was being selfish. She had suddenly realised just how much she was missing her home in Cashel. This land of the South Folk was bleak, cold and inhospitable. When she had agreed to accompany Eadulf to Canterbury and had left the shores of her homeland, it had not occurred to her that he would want to proceed further and journey on to the place of his birth. But that, she realised, had been a silly and egocentric assumption on herpart. Of course, after the time in Rome and then nearly a year in her brother’s kingdom of Muman, it was obvious that Eadulf would want to spend some time at his birthplace.
She tried to suppress the apprehensive feeling that came over her. She hoped that he would not want to spend any great length of time at that place … Seaxmund’s Ham. She felt guilty for the selfish thought. Why should she expect him to want to return to her own country? But she did miss her homeland. She had travelled enough. She wanted to settle down.
She realised that Eadulf was smiling at her across the table.
‘No regrets?’ he asked.