[COMPLETED] The Vixen and The Thief

Chapter 24

Voices roused Conn from sleep. A clamour and unrest seeping through the door of the refectory. Rising from his mat he listened a moment, face bending into a scowl. Some strange note in the air struck him, a feeling familiar - the muffled tension before a fight.

Fastening his dagger and belt, Conn went swiftly out.

The summer night was soft darkness full of stars. Little more than midnight he deemed it. The country stretched away, grey and colourless beneath the moon. No creature stirred, nor blade of grass, but still he heard the murmur of unrest. 

From behind the chapel it came..and behind the chapel Conn went, stalking over the grass with the silence he prided himself on.

Who lurks there?

He stowed himself in a corner, eyes searching the shadows - the shadows that moved.

His grip tightedned on the dagger hilt as his heart raced faster yet. If it was An Beitheach, or one of his men, then monastery or not, he would - 

One shape moved from the chapel's  shadow, a shape in a robe and cowl.

Conn let out a cautious breath and hastened over to them. There were more brothers assembled than he had first thought - about nine. Their faces impossible to read in the darkness.

"Why are you here?" whispered Conn, and though there was silence about him, beyond the chapel his ears still detected a murmur.

"An Beitheach," responded one near him, his voice scarcely audible, "His men have found the path to the monastery and now they would - " 

Around the corner a brother with a torch came hurrying. In the flickering light Conn recognised the one they called Brother Benen. A youth scarcely older than himself.

"He refuses!" he exclaimed gaspily, "He will not leave until we surrender the lady to him."

There was a sharp intake of breath.

"And Father Abbot,  where is he?" someone asked.

"He holds him against the girl. One for the other he said."

Conn spat viciously. "An diabhal dubh." he muttered.

With several others he peered about the corner of the chapel, none daring to expose themselves more, lest perhaps the marauders had bows.

A short distance away a line of figures stood amidst the huts, their torches flickering and glinting on metal.

To the forefront in the shifting gloom stood an Beitheach, his dark hair falling in black streaks across his face, his cheeks and eyes fire-hued. One hand rested upon his sword, the other grasped the abbott's collar. The father himself, with his hood dragged off,  stood motionless among An Beitheach's men, facing back towards his brothers. As the torches threw a flash of light across his face, Conn saw that his eyes were half closed - a face so still it could have been that of a sleeper.

"Come shavelings!" called An Beitheach - a voice that wobbled on the edge of laughter,  "It is a fair exchange. What could you want with a girl anyway?" His own men burst into laughter.

Beside him, Conn sensed Brother Benen stiffen, but none responded. Then after a silent moment, Conn heard a voice whisper beside him, "Has Brother MaolÍosa gone to find the lady?"

He started like he'd been struck.

"Find Beibhinn?" he hissed, rounding on the speakers, "to give her to - to that creature?" his hands balled into fists, voice rising, "Fine followers of Christ you be!"