part0020

A rledge’s body ached, though he was tolerating it better now that he was weeks into his long journey. Having spent months cramped up in the room, bent over a table while he worked, he had become weak. Walking to the coast, taking a boat to Calais, then the weeks on end of walking since had cured him of that affliction, and he was now as trim and fit as he had ever been.

He devoured his meal provided by the brothers of the abbey in which he now found himself. He had forgotten the name, this place a mere X on the map left by Abbot Ceolfrid. Yet he had been welcomed with open arms by the abbot and the brothers that made this place their home.

“I still say they’re fools.”

“You mean the ones from last night?”

“Of course, who else could I possibly mean?”

“I don’t know. I’ve seen all manner of fool pass by here. You are aware that the average person is an idiot.”

“Present company included.”

“That’s not very nice.”

The monk that had initiated this new line of conversation, Creatus, eyed his friend. “Let me get this straight. If I insult you, you take offense, yet you only moments ago insulted the entire Godfearing world.”

His friend grinned. “That’s right.”

Creatus rolled his eyes. “Let’s ask our guest.” He leaned forward to get a better look at Arledge. “What do you think?”

Arledge swallowed. “About what?”

“Yesterday, six monks arrived, one of whom was an abbot, no less, and showed off a fancy Bible they had made. They said they were taking it to Rome to give to the Pope.”

He suppressed his relief at hearing that, yet again, his friends had survived another day of the journey. “That sounds nice.”

“Nice? Nice, he says!” cried Creatus, looking at the others. “It’s foolish! Do you have any idea how valuable a Bible like that is?”

He shrugged. “I would think very. I imagine a lot of work went into it.”

“Forget the months of work the poor fools put in to create it. He said it was a thousand pages of vellum, and that there were two others! A thousand pages! How many cattle had to die to make three thousand pages of vellum! I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

He shrugged again, his ire piqued slightly at the insulting words. “I’m sure the cattle didn’t go to waste. The skin was used for the Lord’s work, and the food, I have no doubt, went to feed the poor.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Arledge waved a hand at the tables filled with brothers. “If you had slaughtered hundreds or even thousands of cattle, what would you have done with the meat?”

“Well, we would have given it to the poor, of course.”

“Then why would you think they did anything different?”

“Because they’re fools!”

Arledge motioned toward the man’s friend. “Yet he just said we’re all fools, so if we’re to assume he’s right, then I think we can safely assume even those fools would not have let anything go to waste if you fools wouldn’t.”

Creatus stared at him for a moment then roared with laughter, stabbing a finger at him. “I like you, brother!”

The rest of the table joined in, several of the closest slapping him on the back and shaking him by the shoulder, some extra food pushed onto his plate, not a morsel of which he let go to waste. After the meal, prayers were said, chores were attended to, then it was to bed, a not-uncomfortable one provided him among the communal room in which the monks slept.

Yet sleep eluded him.

His mind was preoccupied with what had been said earlier by the brothers. And it wasn’t something new, though it was the first time he had heard it called foolish in such blunt terms.

Why was Abbot Ceolfrid showing everyone the Bible? At each abbey or church he had been to along the way, he had heard tell of the monks from Northumbria and their incredible Bible and their ultimate destination. Why was Ceolfrid telling every soul they encountered about their precious possession? Why wasn’t Ceolfrid, a man he had considered of extreme intelligence and prudence, not keeping it a secret? Wouldn’t there be far less risk?

His stomach flipped with a horrifying thought.

Did Ceolfrid want attention drawn to them so that they would become the targets of anyone who might desire the Bible, thereby leaving him free to safely reach Rome?

The very thought was chilling. Inhumane. How could Ceolfrid be willing to sacrifice himself, and the innocent brothers that accompanied him, all who had served the Lord so faithfully, had served Ceolfrid so faithfully, for so many years? He had questioned the fanfare when they had left, yet Ceolfrid had explained it to him in terms that made perfect sense at the time.

“Everyone already knows, my brother. One cannot raise and slaughter over fifteen-hundred cattle without the entire countryside knowing the purpose. We made no secret of our undertaking all those years ago. There would be no keeping this secret, no matter how hard we tried.”

But this didn’t. Nobody in these parts knew what had happened.

Though perhaps on the path behind them, word would have spread already, despite any secrecy that hadn’t been undertaken. And if the wrong person found out, the wrong people, anything was possible. Bibles were rare. Bibles such as the one he now had hidden under his robes were rarer still. The amount of work, the amount of resources expended, made them priceless.

Yet that was just a word.

Everything had a price.

Someone, somewhere, would put a number on it, and gold or currency of some sort would be exchanged should it fall into the wrong hands.

But these were his friends. These were his brothers, so foolishly putting their lives at risk so that his might not be.

He couldn’t let this continue.

Yet what could he do?

He couldn’t warn them without revealing himself. Only Ceolfrid knew he was following them, and who was he to go against the desires of his abbot?