Page 81 of The Outlaw Viking

He shook his head to clear the bedeviling thoughts.

“Naught is wrong. We are at the hospitium. Pull your cowl farther onto your face.”

Selik put a finger to his lips to motion her to silence as they entered the huge, arched double doors that led into the main section of the minster. With a jerk of his head, he indicated for her to follow him.

He went down the main aisle of the central chapel, genuflecting automatically before the crucifix as he had been taught when baptized years before. Rain followed suit, clearly puzzled by his Christian response. Then he veered off to the left, ignoring the monks and other church prelates engaged in prayer and religious duties. A large group of boys from the minster school, sons of area noblemen and merchants, nudged each other and whispered mischievously as they followed a pompously pious, tonsured priest who was lecturing them on church manners.

Finally, after traveling down a number of corridors and through several sets of doors, they arrived at the hospitium, a timber addition to the church structure. A spindly young priest, whose face was still covered with the bothersome pustules of youth, peered up at them from the table where he had been working, rolling strips of linen into bandages.

“Yea? I am Father Bernard. Can I be of help?”

“I am Brother Ethelwolf, and—”

“Ah, Ethelwolf—‘the noble wolf’—a fine name for such a large priest as you,” the young cleric said enthusiastically, obviously not long removed from his final vows into the Holy Orders.

Rain darted a look of surprise at him.

“And this is my companion, Brother Godwine.”

She choked and he slapped her heartily on the back.

“Truly, ’tis unfair. Godwine—‘friend of God’—’twas the name I chose for my consecration into the priesthood, but another at the abbey had picked it first.” The young priest pursed his lips and rambled on with a wistful smile that displayed an ungodly number of rotten teeth for one so young.

Friend of God, indeed! I could not have chosen a more appropriate name for my guardian angel, Selik thought, casting a look of dry amusement at Rain’s cheeks, which already reddened with apparent consternation at his priest-name for her.

“Father Bernard, we come from the Friary of St. Christopher in the mountains of Frankland. You have heard of the famous hospitium there, have you not?”

Rain hissed with indignation at his outrageous lie, and he jabbed her with an elbow to remain silent.

“Nay,” Father Bernard said apologetically, “but I have been a priest for only a year, and I am training now to be a culdee. Perchance you would like to speak to the head of St. Peter’s Hospitium—Father Theodric. He is in the chapel just now, hearing confessions.”

“Yea, ’twould be good to meet the esteemed healer, but for now, may we examine your hospitium?” Selik asked. “We visit here in Jorvik, on a mission for our abbey, and would like to learn of all the latest healing methods in the hospitiums we encounter in our travels.”

The young cleric raised his brows in question.

“Brother Godwine is an accomplished healer in Frankland, but since he cannot read or write, I am his scribe, taking notes on our findings for a book Brother Godwine hopes to write. The Holy Father has requested it.”

Rain slanted a look of disgust at Selik for portraying her as an illiterate. He just stared back at her innocently.

“You have heard of Bald’s Leechbook, have you not?” Selik asked Father Bernard, blinking guilelessly.

“Yea, of course.”

“Well, Brother Godwine’s book will be vastly different. Whereas Bald’s book studies the body from head to toe, Brother Godwine’s book will go from inside out. And he intends to call it a medical manual.”

Father Bernard’s mouth dropped open, and a wave of fetid breath almost knocked her over.

“Is that not so, Brother God-friend—I mean, Brother Godwine?” Selik inquired of her.

Rain nodded reluctantly, and Selik knew he would hear more on the subject later.

Selik did annoy her with his continual teasing, and she would tell him about it when they returned to Gyda’s house. Unable to read or write, indeed! And writing a medical manual! But she sensed his wisdom in warning her to employ caution. She should not interfere in the culdees’ medical practices or let them know she was a woman—and certainly not a woman who came from the future.

“Can you show us around the hospitium until Father Theodric returns?” she asked, disguising her voice with huskiness.

Father Bernard scratched his underarm lazily and broke wind loudly, without a hint of embarrassment or apology. Of course he thought she was a man, and Rain supposed men—some men, anyhow—did vulgar things like that. She saw Selik watching her with a blasted smile on his lips, just waiting for her usual unbridled reaction. She tapped her foot impatiently as the young priest bit his bottom lip uncertainly.

“Father Theodric would, no doubt, approve,” he said hesitantly.