Free The Renegade Merchant by Sarah Woodbury Page B

other
monasteries Gwen had visited over the years, though she had the
sense that the Abbey of St. Peter and St. Paul was more prosperous
than many—if not all—abbeys in Wales.
    It had been built of red sandstone at the
end of the last century, as had the castle, and had been expanded
upon since then to include the multitude of buildings and extensive
grounds it owned today. The church was magnificent enough for an
archbishop’s seat: the guest house and monks’ quarters were large,
with big windows that faced south to take advantage of whatever
warmth the sun offered; and the gardens were well kept and
fruitful. It was peaceful here too, with a little brook that
gurgled by as it headed towards the Severn River.
    With the picture of Conall in one hand and
the rosary beads in another, Gwen trailed around the abbey for
nearly an hour with Brother Julian, a bright young novice in his
early twenties, a few years younger than Gwen. They fell into a
pattern where Julian would introduce her, explain what she was
doing, and then Gwen would show the man in question the rosary and
the sketch. From cooks to laborers to monks in the scriptorium,
everyone was polite and wanted to be helpful, except that nobody
could. The people she encountered were also, without exception,
men. If not for the abbot’s countenance, she couldn’t have spoken
to any of them.
    “How about you?” Gwen said to Julian. “Are
you ever given permission to enter the town?”
    “Every now and then. You must understand
that I was raised here. The abbey is my home, and I have never
known life outside it.”
    “You’re a foundling?” Gwen had heard of such
a thing, but as a bard’s daughter, and then a knight’s wife, Gwen
had traveled the length and breadth of Wales and couldn’t imagine
staying in one place always. The very thought gave her the
shudders. Being a woman, even a spy and a sleuth, she also hadn’t
had a great deal of experience with monastic men.
    “My mother left me on the doorstep a few
days after my birth,” Julian said. “One of the women in the Abbey
Foregate became my nurse.”
    “I don’t mean to imply any sort of
criticism, but are you … happy being a monk?” Gwen said. “You don’t
want some other kind of life for yourself—a wife and children, for
instance?”
    Julian smiled and gestured expansively with
one arm to indicate the whole of the abbey. “I work. I am useful. I
serve God. What more could I want? Besides, a man like me doesn’t
just find himself a wife, you know. I have no land, no money, and
no profession beyond the labor I do here.”
    “And what is that labor?” Gwen said.
    “I work in the scriptorium,” Julian
said.
    “So you’re lettered!” Gwen said. “You could
work for a lord or help merchants with accounting.”
    They had been walking along a pathway in the
garden. The day had continued fine to the point that Gwalchmai had
taken Tangwen to wade in the brook. Gwen could hear Tangwen’s
squeal of delight in the distance. Even if she couldn’t see her
daughter, Gwen knew she was safe in Gwalchmai’s hands.
    Now, Julian stopped and gazed at her with
something close to a condescending smile. “And how would that be
better than what I have here? My family is here.”
    That Gwen could understand. She bowed her
head. “I know I was prying. I’m sorry if I offended you.”
    “I am not offended.” His serenity reminded
her very much of Abbot Radulfus.
    It wasn’t until she’d questioned twenty men
that she hit upon the first one, a lay worker who labored in the
fields for the abbey, who could tell them something they didn’t
already know. “Aye, I seen ‘em.”
    Julian was skeptical. “You’re sure, Al?”
    “Red hair like that? Hard to miss,
especially on a sturdy fellow who’s a stranger. I was working in
the fields near the mill race when I saw him ride past not three
days ago, coming down the road from Atchem. Fine horse he had too.”
Al lifted his chin to point to a stand of