The Sea Wolf awoke at the touch, and cringed when he saw the monks standing over him. Dugal, being a different sort of man than myself, stooped down and snatched the knife from the barbarian's belt in one swift motion. "Allow me to keep this for you, friend," he said.

The warrior made a grab at the retreating blade, but Dugal was quicker. "Peace. Rest easy and no harm will come to you."

From the expression of fear and bewilderment on the barbarian's face, it was obvious that he understood nothing of what we said to him. Thinking to ease his mind, I made a gentle, calming motion with my hand. He gave a jerk of his chin and lay back.

"We must move along," said Gwilym. "Bryn thinks the settlement is not far, but deems it best to find it before dark."

"The ship," said Fintan, his voice husky, "must be secured. We cannot leave it to the waves."

"Ships and settlements!" retorted Connal. "Man, will you not tell us what has become of the blessed book yet?"

Gwilym appeared unconcerned. "I expect it is safe."

"We waste light standing here," Dugal observed. "The sun is soon down."

"Never fret for Ban Gwydd, Fin," Clynnog said. "Come, brothers, we must hurry." He and the sea monks hastened to the overturned hull and began digging in the sand beside the rail. The hole was soon big enough for Mael to slide under, which he did. After a moment, a length of rope appeared on the sand, followed by a hammer and several wooden stakes.

We left them to the work of tying down the boat and, raising the barbarian to his feet, Dugal removed the man's belt and wrapped it around the warrior's arms, binding them to his sides. We then made our way to where the bishop and the others were waiting.

Ddewi was kneeling beside Brocmal, who sat propped against the stone, his legs splayed out before him. Brynach and the bishop stood nearby, talking quietly. They turned as we approached, and expressed surprise at the presence of an additional member to our party.

"Aidan rescued him," Dugal explained simply. "We did not like to leave him on the beach."

"Trust Aidan to save a barbarian," muttered Brocmal.

"And here I thought it was you I was saving," I told him.

Brocmal coughed and dabbed at his mouth with a soggy sleeve, then, as if this action was too much for him, sagged back against the rock once more.

"Is he well enough to walk?" asked Fintan, indicating the stricken Brocmal.

Ddewi glanced up as the pilot spoke, saw the helmsman's arm, and jumped to his feet. "He is less feeble than he appears," the physician said. "But I would have a look at that hand, Fin."

"Never fear for me, young Ddewi," the pilot said, "I can steer a ship with one paw if need be."

Ddewi, his touch at once gentle and quick, examined the swollen limb. "Can you move your fingers, Fin? Try to wiggle them." This brought a wince of pain from the helmsman, who swayed on his feet.

"None of this would have happened," Brocmal complained bitterly, "if not for Dugal. This is God's judgement on us for allowing the injustice he perpetrated to continue unpunished. Disaster will dog our steps as long as the malefactor is tolerated among us."

"Brother, hold your tongue," snapped the bishop tartly. "The issue of Libir's accident has been settled. Hear me now, Brocmal: you are not to raise the matter again, or you will find yourself subject to chastisement."

Turning to Dugal, the bishop said, "Lord Aengus was right to commend you. I do confess I feel that much safer knowing a man of your skill stands among us. May I ask you to stay beside me, brother?"

"If it would please you, Bishop Cadoc," replied the warrior.

"It would please me right well, son."

"Then say no more," Dugal replied happily. "The shadow you see beside you will be my own."

Brocmal closed his eyes and slumped back with a groan. While the physician continued his scrutiny of the pilot's wound, Brynach stepped to where I waited with the barbarian. "We will take him with us to the settlement," Brynach said. "The people there will deal with him."

"They will kill him," I said.

Brynach nodded. "Very likely," he agreed grimly.

"Then it were better for me to let him drown," I argued, feeling both angry and chagrined.

"Aye," Dugal agreed bluntly. "This one tried to split your head with his war axe-and he would have, too, but for the seawave whelming us over."

I frowned. What Dugal said was true, but it was a bitter truth and I choked on it.

"Aidan, your concern is laudable. But we have no better choice," Bishop Cadoc said. "We cannot take prisoners. Nor would he fare better alone. We will deliver him to the lord of the settlement nearby and the decision will be his."

The sea monks joined us then, having made short work of staking down the boat. Connal espied the bishop's crosier, which had washed ashore, and gave it into Cadoc's hands. The bishop received this and, turning to Brynach, he made a stirring motion with his staff. Brynach smiled and lifted his mantle, revealing the leather bulga containing the book.

"Our treasure is safe, brothers," Bryn said. "It has pleased God to deliver us and our prize whole and hale."

Hearing this, Cadoc broke into an exaltation of thanksgiving. "Brothers," he said, lofting his eagle-topped staff, "great is God and worthy to be praised. He has delivered us from the storm, and from the hands of the wicked."

Lifting Brocmal to his feet, we set off for the settlement, singing a psalm of thanksgiving as we went. The sun had set before we gained the top of the sea bluffs, but enough light remained for us to locate the white plume of smoke once more. It seemed to emanate from between the first and second of the three hills before us. Brynach fixed the direction in his mind and strode forth boldly, leading the way. Everyone took their places behind him; as I was last in line, it fell to me to guard our barbarian.

I did not know what to do with him, so I let him walk a little ahead of me and kept my eye on him, lest he try to run away-though I reckoned that would be no bad thing, considering the reception awaiting him at the settlement. As the ground was uneven and his arms were bound to his sides, he stumbled now and then, and I found myself having to steady him. And when it grew too dark to see the way clearly, I took his arm so that he should not fall. The first time this happened, he pulled away from me roughly and grunted his displeasure; the fifth or sixth time, however, he turned his head to look at me, the white of his eyes gleaming in the twilight. From then on, he did not resist when I laid hold of him.

Once we had left the rock-studded sea bluffs behind, the way became easier and we were able to move more quickly. The hills were well wooded, but upon approaching the first one, Brynach struck a path. Thus, we were able to walk rapidly and without fear of falling at every step. The hill was steeper and higher than it appeared in the dusk, and I was soon sweating; this, combined with the clammy dank clothes made me increasingly uncomfortable. Also, my skin itched from the salt water; my hands ached from the oars; my eyes felt dry and watery at once; my legs, shoulders, back, and sides were sore from rowing. I was hungry and thirsty, chilled to the bone and wet.

We crested the top of the first hill, whereupon Brynach paused at the top to search out the thread of smoke once more. Away to the east, a bright slice of moon rose above the low-drifting cloud. "The steading is just below," he said as we gathered around. "A goodly-sized holding, I think. You can see the edge of a field there."

He pointed down into the valley, and though I saw the smoke drifting up through the trees, I could not see the field or any hint of a settlement. We started down into the valley, still following the path-which I did not doubt would lead us directly to our destination.