Damnation and perdition, Brother Trillo! How could you let this happen?” Abbott Mihael was almost beyond words in his disbelief.

Teilo and Justan had returned safely but not without notice, and were immediately sent to separate cells to remain in solitary reflection and confinement for a week. Their single daily meal was to be water and oatmeal gruel into which ashes had been mixed. Abbott Mihael glared as the monks and brothers seated themselves at the long wooden dining table in the Great House.

“This is the worst possible time to lose Lucius!” Mihael continued. “That wretched Martinus has threatened for months to come here at the time of the Giamonios festival. He wants to disrupt it just like the Cristos punished the money changers at the temple in Jerusalem. He imagines that he and Isidore can simply charge between the stalls and knock them all down, and that the Pagani will sit still for it, meek as a flock of ewes!

“I can’t stand the sight of Martinus. He is ugly and cruel, his clothing is filthy, and his hair is disgusting! He fancies himself some kind of Old Testament prophet. Now I’m hearing stories from the mainland that he is so holy, he can even raise the dead!”

Abbott Mihael paced the floor. He suspected that a cult was developing around the repulsive monk and his troops, for what else could they be called? His followers roamed the countryside of Gallia like any Roman auxiliary, smashing shrines, tearing temples apart stone by stone, and cutting down the sacred groves and trees of the Pagani.

“Ye shall destroy their altars, break their images, and cut down their groves … for the Lord, whose name is jealous, is a jealous God,” was one of Martinus’s favorite quotations from Exodus. The type of men who surrounded Martinus did nothing to enhance the monk’s image, as far as the abbott was concerned. Most were failures, unable to woo a woman, raise a family successfully, or maintain a farm. In their bitterness, they exulted in the vicarious power and feeling of accomplishment that Martinus gave them.

Unbelievably, he had the full backing of Rome. There were even rumors that he was to be made a bishop! There was little Mihael could do to prevent his comings and goings from Inissi Leuca, and he feared that Martinus might find converts among the brothers.

“I wish everyone to stay silent on this subject for as long as possible,” Mihael ordered. “The two boys are safely hidden in their cells, and there is no reason to let on that we have lost one of them. Tell Martinus, if he asks, that they are being kept in solitary confinement for a boyish infraction and are not to see daylight for a week.

“Brother Armel, go to the guesthouse and prepare it for Martinus and Isidore’s visit. As for the rest of you, let us ring the bell for Vespers and contemplate on how we are all sinners, in dire need of grace.”

Martinus arrived the next morning, his appearance coinciding with the Giamonios festival, as expected. He wore a hair shirt under his robes and smelled as if he had not washed for weeks. His companion, Isidore, was in the same condition. Abbott Mihael saw lice in their hair and made a mental note to have Brother Armel burn their mattresses and boil their sheets in seawater after they left. Martinus would not accept food or hospitality on arrival; instead, he rang the bell to call the community to prayer in the wooden chapel. He had an urgent message to impart.

“All dancing shall be forbidden on the mainland!” he cried out even before all were assembled. “It invites wantonness, and the women move too freely. The men make lustful glances when the Pagani dance in their so-called temples and shrines! There shall be no moving or stamping of feet and no waving of hands! There shall be no wreathed dancers and no hand clapping to music!

“I know that some of you priests allow dancing as long as it is part of a Christian worship service. This is forbidden! There is no such thing as ‘spiritual dance.’ The men thrust themselves around and the women show their ankles and shins while they let their hair fall loose. It invites sex! It is Satanic!” He railed on and on until flecks of spit flew from his mouth onto the monks and brothers.

“There is no such thing as Pagan worship! Adorare is a word that only applies to Christians and the Christian God! The Pagans are deluded by the daemones that they call gods. They are deviants, heretics; their so-called rites are a calumny against all that is holy!

“Nor shall they sing. The only sacred singing is to chant the psalms. It is the only singing permissible. The Pagani sing songs of love and lust all night at their feasts. They even sing to their demon gods in their temples!”

Martinus was panting now. Isidore rushed to hand him a cup of water, which he accepted. Too overcome by emotion to speak, he raised his battered copy of the Bible and held it aloft, pointing to it. “Amen!” he uttered as Isidore took his elbow and guided him from the chapel to the guesthouse.