Erelong Branithar was able to complain about the bread-and-water diet and threaten revenge. I was still afraid of him but kept up a bold front. Of course, our conversation was much slower than I here render it, with many pauses while we searched for words.
“You brought this on yourself,” I told him. “You should have known better than to make an unprovoked attack on Christians.”
“What are Christians?” he asked.
Dumfounded, I thought he must be feigning ignorance. As a test, I led him through the Paternoster. He did not go up in smoke, which puzzled me.
“I think I understand,” he said. “You refer to some primitive tribal pantheon.”
“It is no such heathen thing!” I said indignantly. I started to explain the Trinity to him, but had scarcely gotten to transubstantiation when he waved an impatient blue hand. It was much like a human hand otherwise, save for the thick, sharp nails.
“No matter,” he said. “Are all Christians as ferocious as your people?”
“You would have had better luck with the French,” I admitted. “Your misfortune was landing among Englishmen.”
‘A stubborn breed,” he nodded. “It will cost you dearly. But if you release me at once, I will try to mitigate the vengeance which is going to fall on you.”
My tongue clove to the roof of my mouth, but I unstuck it and asked him coolly enough to elucidate. Whence came he, and what were his intentions?
That took a long time for him to make clear, because the very concepts were strange. I thought surely he was lying, but at least he acquired more Latin in the process.
It was about two weeks after the landing when Sir Owain Montbelle appeared at the abbey and demanded audience with me. I met him in the cloister garden; we found a bench and sat down.
This Owain was the younger son, by a second marriage with a Welsh woman, of a petty baron on the Marches. I daresay the ancient conflict of two nations smoldered strangely in his breast; but the Cymric charm was also there. Made page and later esquire to a great knight in the royal court, young Owain had captured his master’s heart and been brought up with all the privilege of far higher ranks. He had traveled widely abroad, become a troubadour of some note, received the accolade-and then suddenly, there he was, penniless. In hopes of winning his fortune, he had wandered to Ansby to join the free companions. Though valiant enough, he was too darkly handsome for most men’s taste, and they said no husband felt safe when he was about. This was not quite true, for Sir Roger had taken a fancy to the youth, admired his judgment as well as his education, and was happy that at last Lady Catherine had someone to talk to about the things that most interested her.
“I come from my lord, Brother Parvus,” Sir Owain began. “He wishes to know how much longer you will need to tame this beast of ours,”
“Oh … he speaks glibly enough now,” I answered. “But he holds so firmly to out-and-out falsehoods that I have not yet thought it worth while to report.”
“Sir Roger grows most impatient, and the men can scarcely be held any longer. They devour his substance, and not a night passes without a brawl or a murder. We must start soon or not at all.”
“Then I beg thou not to go,” I said. “Not in yon ship out of hell.’ I could see that dizzyingly tail spire, its nose wreathed with low clouds, rearing beyond the abbey walls. It terrified me.
“Well,” snapped Sir Owain, “what has the monster told you?”
“He has the impudence to claim he comes not from below, but from above. From heaven itself!”
“He … an angel?”
“No. He says he is neither angel nor demon, but a member of another mortal race than mankind.”
Sir Owain caressed his smooth-shaven chin with one hand. “It could be,” he mused. “After all, if Unipeds and Centaurs and other monstrous beings exist, why not those squatty blueskins?”
“I know. Twould be reasonable enough, save that he claims to live in the sky.”