Chapter 17: Chapter III.5: A Sword in the Dark

Kenna conceded the next day. The reason for this was the offer on the part of Wulfnoth to send with the two of them, a letter of recommendation for her to the Queen and to the monks of the local monastery of Sgain. A monastery that had a history that stretched back three hundred years, to the reign of Galam who had founded the order when he had been usurped by his younger half-brother whereupon he had decided to take the tonsure and swear himself to the goddess Scota. So holy and full of faith to the thistle-goddess did he become that his wary sibling, in time came to trust him and after twelve years made him abbot of the monks of Sgain. The abbot in question later became a canonised paragon, with the abbey in more recent years having become a monastery of the Grey Monks. The monks in question believed in a much more rigorous application, of the rules of the Temple which had won them considerable popularity throughout the lands of North-Agenor.

The present abbot was a man by the name of Amhlaidh, a ruddy-faced man according to Wulfnoth who had once served as almoner for the High-King.

“If you wish to become the Queen’s personal seamstress and in charge of her dress, and make no mistake I think this a mighty ambition on your part.” Wulfnoth went on, sitting with her in Corin’s home after she had been convinced to meet with the druid there, at the insistence of Indulf. “I oft fear such ambitions, on the part of a great many people.”

“Why is that?” Kenna queried resentfully.

“Because, it so oft leads to naught but sorrow for all involved,” Murmured the old man, stroking his long moustache worriedly, “I would be more than happy to assist you, as any friend of my good friend Wiglaf is my friend, in spite of these misgivings.”

“Ambition can also aid a man, can aid him to climb up life’s many mounts for his children’s sakes,” Kenna countered.

Wulfnoth had little more to say, on the matter of her departure for Sgain. Convinced to write her a letter to introduce her to the abbot in question, along with Queen Gruach, he demurred from a further clash.

Corin looked ready to object as she had when she had learnt he was her only choice to accompany her to Sgain, yet said nothing on the matter. It was evident that he was displeased with the notion of traveling alone with her.

“This shan’t end well, mark my words,” He grumbled to no one in particular.

*****

Upon their departure the next day, Kenna was to have second-thoughts the following day for it was then that she learnt to her own horror that Wulfnoth had no wish to go with her. Though aware that he had no wish to return to Sgain with her and Corin, she had been utterly convinced that she could dissuade him.

However, the druid dressed in his grey-robes, refused at once with a smile every bit as white as the majority of his hairs were, “Nay, I shan’t do that.” He turned serious once more, “It has come to my attention that there are dark spirits that come out in these parts, after dark. For this reason, I have decided to investigate the matter at the request of brother Conn.”

This hardly pleased her or Corin, however neither would argue any further all too aware that his was a noble quest. As yet unaware of the terrible blood-gem that lay hidden in the house of Corin, there was a great unease about him that Cormac guessed to be the influence of the gem. It was an effect he had noticed in Daegan also, for she was far, far more anxious than she was ordinarily. Not that she was speaking to him at present, given her fury at his having been made to snub her against his will. Something that he took worst than the relentless criticism his mother, had reserved for him in the past several days, criticism that had worsened as of late.

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The farewells were thus chilly, with Kenna as stiff as ever, hugging her reluctant. With the youth jealously noticing (and failing to hide his envy) just how warm the embrace of father and daughter was a few feet away, with Corin patting his daughter as always upon the head, wherefore she grumbled good-naturedly.

Turning away from him, when the parents and children pulled away from one another, with her gaze firmly set upon the exterior wood and stone wall of her home, and decidedly not on him, wherefore she offered a warm farewell to Kenna. Saying as she embraced her, “May Scota protect you auntie.”

“And may she keep you my dearest,” the seamstress replied at once.

This done, she stepped onto the wagon that Corin had had prepared, with the assistance an hour prior with the aid of Trygve, Indulf and Cormac. The other two stood aside though with the elder of the two visibly keen to pull Wulfnoth aside to speak with him in private. Likely, Cormac suspected, about Inga and her possible murderer. Whereas Trygve appeared simply tired and keen to see the back of Kenna whom he had never been as fond of, as his brother or Daegan were.

“Now that we have finished with our farewells, we must be away, for Sgain, Kenna,” Corin declared reluctantly offering to aid the seamstress onto the cart past his horse, Romulus.

She simply gave a loud ‘hmph’ noise in response, moved past him to climb up into the small wagon attached to the horse, who observed her with an unhappy eye. Grumbling beneath his breath, the blacksmith shot Cormac a helpless glance before he offered him his hand.

Pleased that at least one person who was practically kin to him, was willing to treat him as such, he heartily took up his hand and shook it vigorously. Corin in turn though, took the opportunity to pull him to his chest and into a tight embrace. “Stay strong lad, and take heart; Dae shall forgive you.”

“Thank you, Corin,” Cormac said sincerely moved by his friend’s kindly words.

“Upon my return, I shall tell you more of your father and…” Now his voice became conspiratorial, as he glanced about the two of them notably to Kenna and Wulfnoth who was in the midst of chattering eagerly with Trygve. “In regards, to the matter of that gemstone, for I swear to you lad, we shall discover the truth behind his mysterious disappearance and return, together.”

The emphasis on this last word warmed Cormac’s heart. A small smile found its way onto his face, as he nodded his head in response.

Without another word the smith climbed up onto the wagon, whereupon he shook the reins attached to his pony, who grunted just before he began to trample his way northwards. En route for Sgain, there was a sense in the pit of the youth’s stomach that he was not going to see his mother and Corin for a long time. All of a sudden, he had the urge to run down the road to shout after them, not to go, it was the same sentiment he had felt the night his father had disappeared nine years prior.

The moment passed, and he suppressed his instinct when he glanced to the right, to find Daegan flouncing off into her home, with the words. “Now that they have departed, mayhap you lot will leave me alone, to sew myself a new bonnet.”

“A bonnet you will likely never wear,” Trygve commented under his breath.

The glower she sent in his direction drew a shrug from him, and a puzzled glance from Wulfnoth. Shrugging his own large shoulders a few minutes later, the Brittian born cleric announced his intent to go pray at the temple.

“Will you begin your hunt for the shadow-riders?” Cormac asked curiously, a hint of worry in his voice.

“Aye, though it will take hours to prepare,” Wulfnoth said with nary any concern, his thoughts evidently elsewhere, he then pulled and tugged at his moustache adding as he did so, “Never you three mind though, for it is a worry for another hour and until then, I suggest you all go home, rest and eat a very merry lunch, as who knows what will befall us come night-fall.”