Gunnar, still lying on the ground, climbed to his feet to stand beside me-as we were still chained together, he had nowhere else to go-and he gazed at Dugal with an expression of slightly amazed admiration.
"This is Dugal," I told him, "my brother monk from Eire."
"I remember him," replied Gunnar.
"God bless you, Aidan," murmured Dugal, gripping my hands tight in his own. "And here was I thinking you were lost forever. Oh, but it is a fine thing to see you again."
"And you, Dugal." I hugged him to me, feeling the solid flesh and bone beneath my clasp, as if to make certain that it was no mere phantom. "Ah, mo croi, I have so much to tell you, I cannot think for wanting to say it all at once."
We fell silent, just looking at one another. Dugal's hair and beard, like my own, had grown long and shaggy. I had never seen him without his tonsure, and long hair made him look more like a Sea Wolf than a monk. His clothes, like mine, were little more than filthy rags, and he was powdered with rock dust head to heel, but had he been covered in mud with a beard to his knees, I still would have known him as my own reflection.
There came a shout from some of the slaves looking on across the way. Gunnar prodded me in the side and said, "I think our trouble is not finished yet."
Into the pit rushed five or six additional guards; the Arab with the wooden stave led the way, pointing to us, and to the pit overseer still lying crumpled on the floor where Dugal had hurled him. Before we could move, the guards seized us by the arms and dragged us out of the pit and into the bright sun outside. It had been many days since I had had the full light of a noonday sun in my eyes, and it was a fair few moments before I could see.
I stumbled over rocks and fell, pulling Gunnar down with me; we rolled and writhed, regaining our feet only to fall again as the guards dragged us down the hillside. Battered and bruised, cut in a hundred places, we were finally brought to a huge chunk of stone which surmounted a heap of jagged rock shards discarded from the mines. At various places, iron spikes had been driven into the stone to which chains and shackles had been affixed to iron rings. The three of us were chained to the rock and left to bake and swelter in the heat.
As the sun was directly overhead, there was not so much as a shadow wherein we might find refuge. So, we sat with our eyes squinted tight against the blinding light, sweating, our pallid, sun-starved skins slowly turning fiery red.
"I am sorry," Dugal apologized after awhile. "I have brought this misery upon us. If I had not seized the guard, we would not be here now."
"That may be so," I answered. "But if you had not pulled the madman off me I might have been killed. At the very least, we would never have found one another."
"True," he allowed. "That is very true."
"What will they do with us, do you think?" I wondered.
"God knows," replied Dugal. "For myself, I do not care what happens. It is the Red Martyrdom for me, one way or another." He paused, dismissing the thought from his mind. "Ah, well, we are in God's hands, Aidan. He will see us right whatever ill befalls us."
At his words, anger welled up inside me. But as I did not care to contradict him, I said, "Tell me, Dugal, how did you come to be here? Tell me everything; I want to hear it all."
"I wish there was more to tell. In truth, we had an easy time of it-for the most part, that is." He opened one eye to a narrow squint and regarded me. "But you, Aidan, you must have tales worth hearing. Tell me how you have fared."
"I will, and gladly, but after you, brother. Now then, after the Sea Wolves attacked the village and I was carried off-what happened?"
Casting his mind back, he began to tell me about all that had taken place since I had last seen him. He described the night raid and its aftermath, saying, "We lost two only: Brocmal and Faolan were killed; Faolan died outright, and Brocmal followed a day or so later. We buried them at Nantes and continued on, taking three brothers from the abbey to complete our number. Forgive us, Aidan, we reckoned they had taken you for a slave."
"Truly, that is what they did."
"I wanted to go and search for you, but Bishop Cadoc said you were in God's hands now and that we would never find you again."
"Cadoc! Is he still alive? Where is he?"
"He is alive, yes, and he is here," Dugal told me. "We are all here-leastwise, those of us left."
Although I dreaded the answer, I had to know. "How many-how many are here?"
"Four only," came the reply. "Cadoc, Brynach, Ddewi, and myself."
"And the rest?"
"Dead…all of them dead."
My heart sank within me as the faces of my brother monks passed once more before my inward eyes. I saw them again as I had seen them in life, each smiling and laughing, calling to one another greetings of fellowship and good will. I saw them and regretted the loss of their lives. They were gone: Mael, Fintan, Clynnog, Brocmal, Connal, Faolan, Ciaran, Gwilym-all of them gone.
