“King Mordred’s council,” Arthur said, ‘has rescinded the exemption, and your shrine, Bishop, is known as the wealthiest in Dumnonia.”
Sansum raised his eyes to the sky again. “If we possessed so much as one gold coin, Lord, I would take pleasure in giving it to you as an outright gift. But we are poor. You should seek your loan on the hill.” He gestured to the Tor. “The pagans there, Lord, have been hoarding infidel gold for centuries!”
“The Tor,” I intervened coldly, ‘was raided by Gundleus when Norwenna was killed. What little gold was there, and it was little, was stolen.”
Sansum pretended to have just noticed me. “It’s Derfel, isn’t it? I thought so. Welcome home, Derfel!”
“Lord Derfel,” Arthur corrected Sansum.
Sansum’s small eyes opened wide. “Praise God! Praise Him! You rise in the world, Lord Derfel, and what satisfaction that gives me, a humble churchman who will now be able to boast that he knew you when you were but a common spearman. A lord now? What a blessing! And what honour your presence does us! But even you know, my dear Lord Derfel, that when King Gundleus raided the Tor he also raided the poor monks here. Alas, what depredations he made! The shrine suffered for Christ and it has never recovered.”
“Gundleus went to the Tor first,” I said. “I know, because I was there. And by so doing he gave the monks here time to hide their treasures.”
“Such fantasies you pagans hold about we Christians! Do you still claim we eat babies at our love feasts?” Sansum laughed.
Arthur sighed. “Dear Bishop Sansum,” he said, “I know my request is hard for you. I know it is your job to preserve the wealth of your church so that it can grow and reflect the glory of God. All that I know, but I also know that if we do not have the money to fight our enemies then the enemy will come here and there will be no church, there will be no Holy Thorn, and the shrine’s Bishop’he prodded a finger into Sansum’s ribs ‘will be nothing but dry bones pecked clean by ravens.”
“There are other ways to keep the enemy from our gates,” Sansum said, unwisely hinting that Arthur was the cause of the war and that if Arthur simply left Dumnonia then Gorfyddyd would be satisfied.
Arthur did not become angry. He simply smiled. “Your treasury is needed for Dumnonia, Bishop.”
“We have no treasury. Alas!” Sansum made the sign of the cross. “As God is my witness, Lord, we possess nothing.”
I strolled across to the thorn. “The monks of Ivinium,” I said, referring to a monastery some miles to the south, ‘are better gardeners than you, Bishop.” I scraped Hywelbane from her scabbard and prodded her tip into the soil beside the sorry tree. “Maybe we should dig up the Holy Thorn and take it to Ivinium’s care? I am sure their monks would pay highly for the privilege.”
“And the Thorn would be further from the Saxons!” Arthur said brightly. “Surely you approve of our plan, Bishop?”
Sansum was waving his hands desperately. “The monks at Ivinium are ignorant fools, Lord, mere mumblers of prayers. If your
Lordships would wait in the church, maybe I can find some few coins for your purpose?”
“Do,” Arthur said.
The three of us were ushered into the church. It was a plain building with a stone floor, stone walls and a beamed roof. It was a gloomy place for only a little light came through the small high windows where sparrows bickered and wallflowers grew. At the church’s far end was a stone table on which stood a crucifix. Nimue, the hood thrown back from her hair, spat at the crucifix while Arthur strolled to the table, then hitched himself up so he could sit on its edge. “I take no pleasure in this, Derfel,” he said.
“Why should you, Lord?”
“It does not do to offend Gods,” Arthur said gloomily.
“This God,” Nimue said contemptuously, ‘is said to be a forgiving one. Better offend that kind than any other.”
Arthur smiled. He was wearing a simple jerkin, trousers, boots, a cloak and Excalibur. He wore no gold, nor armour, but there was no mistaking his authority, nor, at that moment, his unease. He sat in silence for a time, then looked up at me. Nimue was exploring the small rooms at the back of the church and we were alone together. “Perhaps I should leave Britain?” Arthur said.