Free The Unexpected Ally by Sarah Woodbury Page B

Llelo could look Gareth in the eye, and even though he was
two years younger, Dai wasn’t far behind.
    Gareth introduced the boys to Conall and
then all of them to the milkman. His name was Mathonwy, a fine old
name that belonged to the great Welsh god-hero and father of all
Gwynedd.
    Llelo and Dai pulled the horses into the
barn out of the rain. In the daylight, the barn was
revealed—surprising to Gareth, given how orderly everything else at
the monastery was kept—in a sad state of disrepair. While the floor
was swept clean, the tools were tidied away, and the roof was
solid, as would be necessary to keep out the weather and prevent
the hay in the loft from getting wet, the walls allowed plenty of
daylight to enter the interior. They hadn’t been filled in with
wattle and daub in some time. Maybe since St. Kentigern founded the
monastery.
    The monk noticed where he was looking and
nodded. “Father Abbot says—and I concur—that the rot in the timbers
cannot be repaired. We will use the barn until it falls down, but
we’ve just finished a new one a quarter-mile down the road. Only
the cows return here now, as they are creatures of habit and are
most unsettled by changes in their routine. The pigs and chickens
are already in their new homes.”
    “Good to know.” Gareth
crossed the floor to reach the rear door, which gave easy access to
the enclosure where Mathonwy had found
Erik.
    Mathonwy gestured helplessly to the trough.
“He was just there. I’d come for the cows. As soon as I saw him and
realized what I was seeing—and that it wasn’t my brain addled from
lack of sleep—I ran to wake Prior Anselm.”
    “Given that he’d been prior for only a week,
I’m surprised that you went to him and not Abbot Rhys, who has
more—” Gareth paused as he tried to think of how to phrase what he
was asking, “—experience in these matters.” The question put
Mathonwy on the spot, but Gareth had his tricks as an investigator,
and he genuinely wanted to know what Mathonwy thought of his new
prior, since Gareth’s first and second impression hadn’t been
positive.
    Mathonwy wiped the smirk from his face
almost the instant it appeared, but Gareth saw it and acknowledged
that he’d guessed right about what was behind it. He wouldn’t be
surprised if Mathonwy wasn’t the only longtime member of St.
Kentigern’s who was less than impressed with the new prior the
bishop had foisted on them. “He hasn’t been with us long and isn’t
the type to have steady hands when they’re needed. But it was his
right to be woken first, so I did so. I’ve been at the monastery a
while now, and until recently it’s always been Prior Rhys to whom
we went.”
    Gareth smiled. “In my head too.”
    “But then Anselm showed that he had some
good sense and woke the abbot immediately, so all’s well that ends
well.”
    Gareth could understand Mathonwy’s
satisfaction. He’d followed the rules, done the right thing, and
been rewarded for his faith.
    “I understand that your previous abbot was
elderly?” Conall knew something about investigations too. Now that
rapport had been established, it was time for questions before
Mathonwy remembered that he had duties elsewhere.
    “Yes. Prior Rhys had taken over many of his
tasks even before he became abbot.”
    “When were you last at the barn?” Gareth
said.
    “I was here for the evening milking. The
cows know to come to the barn as the sun is setting. I rarely
attend Vespers, though sometimes I manage to slip in at the
end.”
    It was standard practice in
any place within hailing distance of a chapel—in other words, all
through Wales and England—to keep time by the cycle of prayers and
the ringing of church bells. The first prayer of the day was Matins , the night office,
at midnight. The morning was marked by dawn prayers, called Lauds , Terce at
mid-morning, Sext at noon, Nones at midafternoon, Vespers at sunset, and Compline or evening prayers before
retiring to bed. These