Easten:  Chapter Two   

Pale though it was, the late autumn sun rising above the line of the sill was enough to rouse Easten from his (so far as he was aware) dreamless period of sleep which was only a degree from catalepsy: more than once, Prior Asaph  had paused during his night rounds and had to check carefully before being certain that Easten was still breathing unaided.
He yawned and stretched, the oft-washed , softened fabric of the homespun habit he had been loaned comfortable against his skin. Opening his eyes, his first thought was for the lute he had persevered to protect through the previous night's downpour. It stood where he had left it, in the ingle to the left of the hearth, carefully wrapped in the protective layers in which it had been sealed for the journey. He relaxed, and cast about the room to assess what the day might bring.
The storm had broken, and the day appeared as fair as any early summer morn - yet from the position of the sun in the sky, he sensed that he had slept much later than would have been either wise or practical for most of the time he had been travelling. This, he felt, was a rare opportunity to relax, recoup and refresh himself both physically and spiritually before embarking on the next stage of his quest, one which was likely to be the most dangerous he had yet faced.
A discreet knock, and the door of the room opened. A tonsured figure, little more than a boy of eleven or twelve, pushed it open with his hip and entered bearing a pile of towels almost as big as himself. Depositing these on a small table close to the hearth he returned to the passageway outside the door and carried in a large copper basin of steaming hot water, plus some oils and cleansing materials. A silent bow and he was gone, closing the door softly behind him.
During his ablutions, Easten sorted through a variety of possibilities: all had possibilities for the next stage of his journey, some more positive or attractive than others. The major drawback which currently applied to each of them without exception, however, came back to the same fact every time: detail - or, properly speaking, the lack thereof  - concerning his current position as ....  honoured guest? minor irritation?  or (God forbid!) a most unwelcome stranger who could expect a minimum of courtesy and no assistance whatsoever? Yet from what little he had so far seen and experienced of his hosts, he somehow doubted this last scenario.
As he towelled the last moisture from his neck, feeling the glow of improved circulation course just under his skin, an errant draught made him spin round. His right hand dropped automatically to where his skeán normally sat in its sheath, on his belt, before he relaxed and smiled apologetically at the monk whose habitually silent entrance had caused the draught from the door.
"Mea culpa!" he breathed, sincerely, and knew from the monk's stance that he had made the best possible decision to address his visitor in the only lingua franca of the West at the time, Latin.  
This was not the young acolyte who had brought him towels and hot water, nor was it the senior Prior Asaph whom he had spoken briefly with when he claimed sanctuary from the storm. Young, certainly, but yet with something ‘of the world' about him. Possibly late twenties, Easten thought as he waited for the newcomer to take the initiative.
The monk's young/old eyes missed nothing, and had noted Easten's instinctive reaction to being disturbed unexpectedly.
"You have been travelling alone for some time." A statement, not a question.
Easten nodded.
"Habits - good and bad - die hard, Father."
"You do me too much honour. My title is Brother: Brother Fergal. I have a number of years' study ahead of me before I can claim the title you so freely bestow."
Yet there was no hint of reprimand in his voice, and Easten sensed that he was in fact welcome, though unexpected, in this outpost of the realm. Straightening to his full height, he inclined his head and mustered as much dignity as it is possible for a half-clad man to claim.
"My name is Easten: what title I have must also serve as job description, for I am first and foremost Bard to ......... a certain lord, and charged with the deliverance of  vital information to his cousin. That is my errand in these parts, for I must find passage to Erin in order to complete my task."
"Bard, you say?" murmured Brother Fergal: Easten was for a moment unsure if he should respond, hearing the questioning lilt in the tone. Seeming oblivious of the slight hiatus, Fergal continued:
"So can I better understand why you are so scrupulously careful of your burden: it is your preferred instrument, is it not? A .. zither? lute? I confess I am not a musician and cannot identify one string instrument over another ..... but I can understand why a trained musician and one claiming the honoured title of Bard would be reluctant to leave behind an instrument of quality if he knew that he would be absent for some considerable time. "
Pulling on a jerkin, Easten realised that he had instinctively positioned himself between his instrument and the .......... intruder? Surely some less negative description than this had been earned? Irrespective of his feelings that this was a secure place, in which he was safe from unexpected attack, Easten had lived on his wits for several weeks and was still not fully prepared to begin trusting in others however friendly they might appear.
The significance of this dance had not escaped Brother Fergal, who now smiled again in a worldly-wise fashion.
"Believe me, Bard Easten, there are none here would wish you ill: and many - myself first and foremost - who would be honoured if you would consent to  .... " he paused, seemingly embarrassed.
" .... to provide some entertainment for you, perhaps?" Easten suggested, noting the self-conscious tinge which appeared immediately in Fergal's visage as he dumbly nodded his confirmation.
"That would be a small price to pay for sanctuary and hospitality, Brother!" he added, "and when I have asked for the advice and assistance I shall need for the next stage of my quest, you will no doubt agree with me that I will be in your debt for considerably more than the modest value of a few ballads!"
Apparently relieved that the negotiations thus far had gone as well as he could have hoped for, Fergal made to withdraw.
"Prior Asaph enjoins you to break your fast with him in the Refectory after Matins
There is still time for you to join us, if you wish, for the service itself  ... "
There was no question in the way the sentence was uttered, but Easten sensed that it would make a far better impression if he agreed to partake in the early service. He considered himself a Christian anyway, and opportunities for him to attend any services at all over the last few weeks had been few. Inclining his head in agreement, he followed Fergal from the chamber and along well-lit aisles to the chapel.
"Ite, missa est!"
"Deo Gratias!"
The soaring tones of the final benediction and response rang in Easten's ears and memory as he walked between Brother Fergal and Prior Asaph from the chapel to the refectory. The melody made the simple text into a thing of beauty, a musical statement of belief.
For a moment he wondered if he might possibly adapt it, use it in a melody which had been lurking on the fringes of his imagination for a few days ... he shuddered. The thought was close to blasphemy, surely?
"Are you cold, my lord?"
Easten blinked, and returned to everyday practicalities.
"Nay, Brother: I do but daydream: perhaps I might discuss some private things with a confessor later this day?"
Brother Fergal averred that this might be easily arranged and led onwards to the first meal of the day. This transpired to be home-baked flatbread and a soupstew based on fresh-caught mussels.

 

 

          .....             .....             .....             .....             .....             .....

 

 

" ....... And so, my Lord Prior, I was told in Deva that I might ask after passage to my lord's kith in Erin from this Priory: and further, that I would not be refused room and lodging should I need it. My thanks once more for the sanctuary you extended to me in last night's storm!"
"Yet you skate lightly over the nature of your - quest - and the urgency which has driven you far and fast through countryside which must have been unfamiliar to you.. Nay, rest easy, guest! "
Easten had become visibly agitated at the nuances in the Prior's soft comments.
" .......... the nature of your movements, and your liege lord's intent in sending you are of no possible consequence to me or my brethren in this Priory! Politics and intrigue are terms which we unfortunately must acknowledge as descriptions of human failings, but they have no significance for us simple men of God in this quiet backwater of the realm. Since the Romans retreated as their Empire crumbled  almost eight hundred years ago, we have been allowed to .... arrange our own affairs, while acknowledging the authority of the Kings as they held sway in the land .. "
Neither by tone nor by inflection did Prior Asaph give any indication of approval or approbation of the concept of a secular monarch. Easten, however, sensed that he was dealing with a proud and independent spirit. He nodded to indicate his acceptance of the Prior's implicit caveat.
"My liege has adjured me to speak as little as may be prudent regarding my journey, at least until I have managed to reach Erin and am close enough to his kinsman to call upon his assistance, should it be necessary. The matter is ..... " he hesitated, clearly undecided.
"Delicate?" suggested Prior Asaph.
Somewhat surprisingly, Easten shook his head: this was evidently not the mot juste he had been seeking. His next sentence caught Prior Asaph somewhat unprepared.
"Prior Asaph, I said to Brother Fergal this morning that I wished to speak to a confessor. Will you do me the honour, please? There is an aspect of my - quest, as you called it - which troubles me and I would be shriven before chancing my soul to the seas and the weather which I must now cross."
For answer Prior Asaph took a stole from a concealed fold on his robe, kissed it and placed it around his neck. Making the Sign of the Cross, he sat closer to Easten and waited.
"I must ask for your guidance and - I hope! - your blessing on the venture which I have promised to fulfil as best I may in the service of my liege lord, to whom my fealty has always been unquestioned."
"I converted to the Faith as an adult, at Michaelmas five years ago. I try to live my life according to the guidance I was given before being received into the Church."
"I am aware that there are many ... supposed charms and forgeries, presented as holy relics by charlatans and others who would happily gull all who can be persuaded to offer coin for their purse. But, Prior Asaph, the true purpose of my journey to my lord's kin in Erin is inextricably entwined with the  .... properties .... "  the word was ever so lightly stressed " ... of an object which I bear with me."
"And before you question me further" he added, swiftly " I can only aver as a musician of some little skill that I am unable to provide a natural explanation for some of the things I myself have witnessed."
Carefully, reverently, he began slowly peeling the protective layers of skins wrapped around his instrument.
 "There is a long and wondrous tale concerning the lute Perori" he began, as he carefully stripped the final layer of coverings to reveal it. Even in the dim, subdues lighting provided by the candles, it seemed to have a lustrous life of its own. The wood, carefully oiled and polished by countless pairs of caring bardic hands glowed with an antiquity and quality which could not be counterfeited. Even a non-musician such as Prior Asaph would sense without doubt that this was an instrument which, in the right hands, would sing true and with great power as well as unique beauty.
"Father, I .... "

 

"Prior, my son. The title you honour me with is unearned."
"Prior Asaph. Forgive me, as a recent convert I still think of all clerics as being much the same! All the same, I ask you to hear me out in the spirit of one hearing a sinner making his confession. The history I wish to tell includes much which the Church may regard as heretical, even blasphemous, and I would be shriven of such faults before trusting myself and my soul to the dangers of the sea voyage which I must make in order to complete the task with which my lord has charged me."
"The tale of the lute Perori weaves a strange blend of history and legend. It is still, to my best knowledge, exclusively an oral tradition, for few amongst even the best educated lords in Gwynedd, Dyfed or other parts have learned their letters as yet: and until they do, we poor impoverished bards must wait our turn also." Easten's wry smile as he spoke these words robbed them of any possible bitterness which they might otherwise have implied. He continued:
"Herein lies - at least in part - my reason for feeling a need to confess before I depart these shores on the most dangerous leg of my journey. Perori is credited with powers of an unnatural, even supernatural or magical nature. Some things I myself have witnessed which I cannot explain in any other way, and I am sorely troubled by what the Church may regard as either  ..... miraculous  ... or blasphemy."
Prior Asaph nodded.
"Your caution and your conscience speak well of you, as a bard and as a person who would know the truth in the events which unfold around each of us in our daily lives" he said, calmly "Also:  there are many things we cannot explain in the richness and diversity of life, but must perforce accept - often with a blind faith in the wisdom of One who is greater than us all. Does that make these things which we are unable to explain or understand, magical? Miraculous? Supernatural? Even .... blasphemous?"
"I may not be that many years older than yourself, Easten, but I have heard countless confessions of faults - both real and imagined! - from boys, from men and from women, too, over the years since I first took my vows. I too have both heard and seen things which I cannot explain without using terms such as you suggest: but that does not mean that all these things are by their nature evil or have some sort of ‘wrongness' about them. It simply means that we mere mortals do not - yet - have sufficient understanding to be able to explain God's ways. Tell me as much of your story as you can - or may " he added, with a nod " ... for I can appreciate that your liege lord has charged you with a certain amount of secrecy which he deems necessary for the success of your mission.
 I have no wish to place you in a cleft stick between explaining yourself to me and going against your master's wishes!"
"Perori has passed from senior Bard to senior Bard for several generations; almost a badge of office, for without the very best instrument to play upon, what musician could ever claim to be more than a barely sufficient journeyman of some sort? For as you must surely know, Prior  -  since your neighbours to the south are the clans of Gwynedd  -  the title of Bard is more than a mere courtesy: it is an honour which has to be earned, and earned on merit alone!"
He stroked the instrument, with reverence. It was an automatic gesture, and Easten was evidently unaware of the movement.
"Every guardian of this lute -and yes, I include myself in this - has borne witness to one occasion, sometimes several, when  ..........  Prior Asaph, this sounds ridiculous, I know: is it possible for such an object of beauty to be .... an instrument of Peace?"
Whatever Prior Asaph might have been expecting, it was clearly not this. His mind raced, and he felt his heart briefly skip a single stroke as he tried to assess some of the implications which the tale his guest appeared to be telling might entail.
"If indeed the lute Perori has been a ... positive influence of such a nature, bard Easten, then it can only be, let us say, on "the side of the angels", surely? And you can have no fears of any sin involved in your telling me a full and truthful account of your own personal experiences, or any other occurrences which you feel are well documented and will stand the ultimate test of Truth."
Easten nodded his acceptance of this guarded but open encouragement, and continued:
"Prior, I have led a somewhat sheltered existence thus far in the service of my Lord Caradoc. This journey I make on his behalf is the first time in my thirty years I have travelled more than a day's journey from the town in which I was born, Caerleon."
"Isca Silura" murmured the Prior, automatically, then smiled at the blank expression on his guest's face.
"That was the name which the invading Romans gave the settlement, and the one which still is given in the few written histories we have: for they are all in the Roman tongue, the lingua franca of scribes, priests and historians. The fortress town close by which you must have passed on your journey still uses its Roman name, Deva. Pray, continue."
"I received the  ... badge of my calling when I sang my way to favour at the eisteddfod and was thus chosen by Lord Caradoc to be his bard. The post had been vacant for some time following the death of the previous bard, and the lute had perforce remained sealed and protected, but unused."
"The first thing I noticed when I peeled back the coverings was how light and resilient it was. But at the same time .... "  he leaned forward for emphasis, and all but breathed:
" ..... at the same time, it remained in perfect true pitch!"
He sat back, awaiting Prior Asaph's reaction. After a few seconds, a puzzled frown crossed his face, rapidly followed by a look of chagrin.
"My apologies, Prior, why indeed should you know? You have already told me that you are not a musician. ... ! Well, then, any stringed instrument needs constant attention and tuning - especially when it is laid aside for any length of time without being played regularly. It should not be possible to lay aside a lute, or any other instrument of this nature, and expect it to remain in tune and playable after almost two years whilst it remained unused."
"A minor miracle indeed, on the face of it" agreed Prior Asaph " but I assume there is more to tell?"
Easten nodded.
"Indeed there is, Fa ... -  Prior" he amended himself swiftly, with a self-conscious grin.
"From the very first, it was as though it moulded itself to me like a boot or other piece of attire specially tailored to me, and to me alone."
 "I come from a modest background. My family is not wealthy. Neither I nor my father could ever have afforded to purchase such an instrument, though it was evident even as a young boy that I had some talent for music. I had instruction in the techniques of play for the lute and other common instruments in the years I was able to study, though even those lessons I fear cost my father more than he could easily afford: but at least he saw me win the Eisteddfod and my placement at court before he died."
"I began to feel almost as if Perori was playing me, rather than I her" he continued. "My fingers seemed to find the right stops, or the most pleasant sweeps and strums without me having to even think about it: me, who had never been able to afford more than a few cheap, quickly-made (and just as quickly broken!) reeds and pipes, barely more than the toys which might amuse children for a day or two at most!
"Soon I found that if I sat and played, music would often come unbidden to my fingers, original melodies which I knew I had never heard before: and as I played - or was being played - more often than not lyrics to fit the melody would fill my head, and I simply had to utter them or burst. To me, this was as much of a miracle as the previous experience, as up to that point I would always struggle with original words to a melody."
He stirred himself.
"Prior Asaph, to you these things will sound perhaps coincidence, pleasing in themselves but not more than the natural development of a musician's art. But there were events on my journey, too many to recall in detail for they occurred almost every single day along the way: but they cannot be explained away as coincidence and good fortune, they are far too numerous for that!"
"On my very first day, at the first village I came to, a large and mean-looking wolflike dog rocketed past me chasing a mangy, fleabitten cat. When silence suddenly fell behind me I glanced back - to see the pair of them lying side by side, licking and grooming each other as if this were the only existence either of them had ever known."
"That evening, I walked into a hostel to ask about a bed for the night. Two large, muscled types faced each other in a cleared space inside the door, each with a knife in his hand and murder in his mind."
"As I pushed at the door Perori must have nudged the doorjamb gently, for I felt (rather than heard) the faintest of chimes from her strings. It was as if the sworn enemies of the moment also heard something, for they both shook their heads as one does to shoo an annoying fly, then sheathed their knives, offered each other the most sincere apologies, and sat to drink together."
"These things may seem small and unimportant individually, Prior: but they have been constantly with me throughout my northward journey, part of the warp and weft of my day. I can no longer ignore them as a .... as random chance events."

 

"Nor can you credit the possibility of Divine Intervention in such small matters, or the alternative possibility of some darker, older, pagan superstition involving  ... magic?"
The word seemed to hang in the air, almost but not quite visible between them. Not trusting himself to speak, Easten nodded confirmation.
 "Which, I take it, you think would not be well received by a ... a man of the cloth such as myself." There was no hint of a question in Prior Asaph's voice, rather a calm statement of fact.
"My son, there is no guilt in you thinking as you do, especially on a long and lonely journey with no travelling companion to confide in - or even to confirm that what you believe you have seen has not been illusion, either in part or in its entirety. No, I do not disbelieve what you have told me, far from it! I am simply pointing out that if you had had someone to discuss these things with, you might be in an easier state of mind than you are at the moment!"
"You .... you do believe me, then?" Easten exclaimed, with relief evident in his voice.
"Young man, I do not believe you are capable of dissembling, even if you wished to do so! Your honesty is clear in all that you have told me - and, more important, in the way you tell your tale! You have truly chosen the right profession, Bard! If your singing voice matches your taletelling skills, I believe you could charm the birds out of the treetops if you so chose!"
"I told you before that if this marvellous instrument has shown signs of mediating peace in an uncertain world, then it can only be counted as a boon, a blessing, something we may not as yet understand but must consider as a sign of sorts - and most certainly something we may have sore need of, in the present troubled times."
"You gave the instrument a name, as if it were a living entity: Perori?"
"Yes, Prior. This is not, I hope, something which offends the Church: but truly great instruments - and as a musician, I can assure you that this lute deserves the description! - have traditionally always been given names by musicians honoured to possess them for a brief lifetime of playing before they are given further to another player. I am the tenth documented holder of the privilege of playing Perori: it is at very least a century since she was created .... Your pardon, Prior! I did not mean to sound ......  "
Prior Asaph smiled.
"An object of true beauty can indeed appear to possess some individuality: it can even appear to have a vibrant independent life. It is no sin to think in such terms, my son. Someone in such an honourable profession as you have chosen would be less than human if he did not think of such a fine instrument as having lifelike qualities."
Easten felt relief at the prior's calming reassurance, and his respect for this astute man of the cloth deepened. He was not, Easten realised, an isolated, dreamy individual who had opted to ignore the world by opting for the life of the cloisters.  How, he wondered, could he appear so worldly-wise?
As if following Easten's thoughts, Prior Asaph smiled.
"I travelled and saw a great many things of the world before I felt the call of the Church," he said as if by way of explanation. "I believe I can understand how a sensitive and accomplished musician such as yourself would react to such a finely made instrument. There can be no shame or sin in admiring a thing of beauty: it is merely recognition of the skill of the craftsman, who in turn has received his skills from the Creator of us all."
"Do you have aught else on your conscience?"
Startled by the sudden question, Easten gathered his wits and gave an account of himself, listing a few minor peccadilloes of hastiness and anger which he felt he had been guilty of on his journey thus far. As the Prior murmured the familiar words of the Te Absolvo, he began planning in his mind the way he would broach the subject of the assistance he had hoped to obtain by approaching the Priory.
"Would you consent to demonstrate your skills on this wondrous instrument, after our midday repast?"
Swiftly coming to the conclusion of his final Ave Maria, Easten nodded gladly. This was perhaps the opening he sought, an opportunity to barter his skills for the favour he sought in return.
"If my skills, such as they are, may please your community I will be glad to perform something suitable. I am already indebted to you for sanctuary from the elements. I have a further boon to ask of you in the form of advice, so the fee you ask of me in return is little enough! It would be an honour for me to repay your hospitality in this way!"
Prior Asaph raised his eyebrows at the mention of Easten's mention of a further boon. He made no comment, but nodded gravely.
"Let the day bring forth what it will" he proclaimed, rising to indicate that the conversation was reaching its conclusion. "I must be about my daily office, and you may if you wish avail yourself of our small library, or utilise the time until the noon-bell rings for private reflection in your .... " he paused briefly before concluding:
" . .. a visiting religious would not take the term "your cell" amiss, but I would be sure that the term does not have another less pleasant association for a secular guest?"
Easten smiled.
"I too have some experience with other walks of life, Prior, and am too grateful for your hospitality thus far to take umbrage at any term you care to use for the shelter you have already provided! If it would not offend or inconvenience anyone, I would like your permission to rehearse some pieces in the room, if it will not disturb anyone at prayer?"
Prior Asaph assured Easten that this would be perfectly acceptable, and escorted his guest back to his temporary lodging, then departed to resume his daily routine of prayer.