Alcuin approved.
“A sincere one, in any case,” said Rakoczy, more for Comes Gutiger’s benefit than Alcuin’s.
“Demeanor is always important,” approved Alcuin. “As a traveler, you must know that better than most others do.”
“It does seem so to me, and has served me in good stead,” Rakoczy assured him. “Particularly as I am no longer young.”
Alcuin swung around as far as his saddle would permit. “You are hardly doddering, Magnatus. You are sound in limb and wind. Your wits are not addled. What does it matter that you will not see twenty again? Who among us will?” He laughed aloud, startling his mare.
Comes Gutiger snorted, his face showing the disgust he dared not speak aloud. “Age touches all who do not fall in youth.”
There was a party of travelers ahead of them, moving more slowly than the travelers from Sant’ Martin; it consisted of an escort of three armed men and two enclosed carruca, the curtains drawn over the frame of the vehicles painted with illustrations of a female saint.
Alcuin signaled his party to slow down and said to Comes Gutiger, “You, and Magnatus Rakoczy, come with me.” He put his mare to the trot; he did not bother to see if the two others accompanied him.
At the sight of the banner Comes Gutiger carried, the leader of the travelers ahead of them brought the party to a halt, and the men-at-arms lifted their right hands to show them empty. “Victory to Karlus!” they cried in ragged chorus.
“Very good,” said Alcuin. “We must ask you to keep to the side of the road while we pass you. I hope you will not be inconvenienced.”
“We are bound for Sant’ Audoenus,” said the leader of the three armed men. “At the order of Bishop Freculf and the Abba Sunifred of Santa Albegunda. We will reach our destination tomorrow.”
“Sant’ Audoenus,” said Alcuin in some surprise, for he knew Sant’ Audoenus’ reputation as a haven for the ill and the tormented. “Are your charges afflicted?”
“One is…” The leader fell silent as the curtain over the carrucum lifted and a habited nun emerged.
“I am Priora Iditha, and I am attending a woman in the charge of my Order. She rides with me to Sant’ Audoenus, at the pleasure of our Abba and Bishop Freculf. Two other Sorrae ride in the other carrucum. They will return to our convent with me, or without me, when Bishop Iso decides what is to be done with our—” She indicated the curtain concealing the other passenger. “I am prepared to remain with her, should the Prior and Abbott of Sant’ Audoenus deem it best, and have leave to do so.”
“Very good; your Bishop and Abba are wise,” said Alcuin, then changed his tone. “We will not keep you long, and we will wish you Godspeed on your journey.” He was about to swing his mare around, but faltered, and turned back. “Why do you take this woman to Sant’ Audoenus?”
Priora Iditha was clearly torn, for she knew she should say nothing of the duty entrusted to her, yet she could not refuse the order of someone traveling under the King’s banner. “She has need of the care and the prayers of the monks.”
“Of course she does,” said Alcuin bluntly. “Why would you take her there if she did not.” He waited with ill-concealed impatience.
There was a gentle cough from inside the carrucum. “I will step out,” said a pleasant voice, and a moment later, Gynethe Mehaut stood beside Priora Iditha. She was habited like Priora Iditha, and her hands were swathed in strips of linen.
Comes Gutiger swore and backed his horse away half-a-dozen paces. Alcuin stared, transfixed. Only Hiernom Rakoczy leaned forward, unafraid and unalarmed.
“Our Abba has asked the Sublime Iso to take her in,” said Priora Iditha as calmly as she could.
“May God give her peace,” said Alcuin hurriedly, and tugged on his mare’s rein to turn her around.
“Red eyes. It cannot be good to have red—” Comes Gutiger broke off and followed after
“A sincere one, in any case,” said Rakoczy, more for Comes Gutiger’s benefit than Alcuin’s.
“Demeanor is always important,” approved Alcuin. “As a traveler, you must know that better than most others do.”
“It does seem so to me, and has served me in good stead,” Rakoczy assured him. “Particularly as I am no longer young.”
Alcuin swung around as far as his saddle would permit. “You are hardly doddering, Magnatus. You are sound in limb and wind. Your wits are not addled. What does it matter that you will not see twenty again? Who among us will?” He laughed aloud, startling his mare.
Comes Gutiger snorted, his face showing the disgust he dared not speak aloud. “Age touches all who do not fall in youth.”
There was a party of travelers ahead of them, moving more slowly than the travelers from Sant’ Martin; it consisted of an escort of three armed men and two enclosed carruca, the curtains drawn over the frame of the vehicles painted with illustrations of a female saint.
Alcuin signaled his party to slow down and said to Comes Gutiger, “You, and Magnatus Rakoczy, come with me.” He put his mare to the trot; he did not bother to see if the two others accompanied him.
At the sight of the banner Comes Gutiger carried, the leader of the travelers ahead of them brought the party to a halt, and the men-at-arms lifted their right hands to show them empty. “Victory to Karlus!” they cried in ragged chorus.
“Very good,” said Alcuin. “We must ask you to keep to the side of the road while we pass you. I hope you will not be inconvenienced.”
“We are bound for Sant’ Audoenus,” said the leader of the three armed men. “At the order of Bishop Freculf and the Abba Sunifred of Santa Albegunda. We will reach our destination tomorrow.”
“Sant’ Audoenus,” said Alcuin in some surprise, for he knew Sant’ Audoenus’ reputation as a haven for the ill and the tormented. “Are your charges afflicted?”
“One is…” The leader fell silent as the curtain over the carrucum lifted and a habited nun emerged.
“I am Priora Iditha, and I am attending a woman in the charge of my Order. She rides with me to Sant’ Audoenus, at the pleasure of our Abba and Bishop Freculf. Two other Sorrae ride in the other carrucum. They will return to our convent with me, or without me, when Bishop Iso decides what is to be done with our—” She indicated the curtain concealing the other passenger. “I am prepared to remain with her, should the Prior and Abbott of Sant’ Audoenus deem it best, and have leave to do so.”
“Very good; your Bishop and Abba are wise,” said Alcuin, then changed his tone. “We will not keep you long, and we will wish you Godspeed on your journey.” He was about to swing his mare around, but faltered, and turned back. “Why do you take this woman to Sant’ Audoenus?”
Priora Iditha was clearly torn, for she knew she should say nothing of the duty entrusted to her, yet she could not refuse the order of someone traveling under the King’s banner. “She has need of the care and the prayers of the monks.”
“Of course she does,” said Alcuin bluntly. “Why would you take her there if she did not.” He waited with ill-concealed impatience.
There was a gentle cough from inside the carrucum. “I will step out,” said a pleasant voice, and a moment later, Gynethe Mehaut stood beside Priora Iditha. She was habited like Priora Iditha, and her hands were swathed in strips of linen.
Comes Gutiger swore and backed his horse away half-a-dozen paces. Alcuin stared, transfixed. Only Hiernom Rakoczy leaned forward, unafraid and unalarmed.
“Our Abba has asked the Sublime Iso to take her in,” said Priora Iditha as calmly as she could.
“May God give her peace,” said Alcuin hurriedly, and tugged on his mare’s rein to turn her around.
“Red eyes. It cannot be good to have red—” Comes Gutiger broke off and followed after
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