Aeleva; The Viking Saxon

Chapter 23

It was sunrise when I decided to venture into Canterbury. The sun just peaked over the great walls to give an orange glow. Illuminating the town golden for my return.

The gates were open, so I walked right into the city. I had no idea where Osric would be but my guess was to find the Abbey.

I knew of one Abbey in Canterbury; St Augustine's Abbey. We all heard stories of how Augustine was a messenger from the Pope, and all about his work to guide Mercia towards the true Christian God. The Abbey was said to be a great place of worship and study. A great place for Osric.

As I walked through the town, the village folk gave me a wide birth. They would not meet my eyes and many simply turned to walk in the other direction. Every time someone scurried away from me, it broke my heart.

I knew why, it was because I looked like a Dane. I still had my axe and dagger, the leathers I wore were in Danish style. And my hair still braided and loose. I wore trousers and shirt a man would wear. My face was covered in dirt and grim, similar to my clothes. I would not be surprised if a few stains of blood were present as well. If I saw myself a few months ago, I would fear the same.

Eventually I found the Abbey. I could not miss it; the magnificent building rose above the rest. The high walls intricately carved grew taller than I had ever seen. Two solid, thick wooden doors stood to welcome you above stones steps. It appeared a grand chapel behind them. The stained-glass windows peeking out, glowing from the thousands of candles lit within. The Abbey was made up of seemingly hundreds of buildings and Halls, the whole site going on forever. Manicured lawns surrounded the perfectly trimmed bushes and flower beds, that fit snugly to the curves and corners of the buildings. Each one of the endless number of windows, was lit, to show the mass of people accumulated in the Abbey. Slaves and servicemen carried boxes and various cargo in and out of the many servant doors. City folk were allowed into the main church to pray and show loyalty to the great King Offa. However, the King was not in Canterbury. The Danish spies had reported him in Rochester a few days ago, but they believed him to be expected to Canterbury. I guessed it would be soon as there were growing crowds in the court yards and huddles in the streets, everyone hoping to glance at the Royal Household.

Even in the Kings absence, the Abbey was bustling with the life and liveliness that accompanied the Royal Procession. I found a smaller door, away from the large crowds, to open. I entered into a corridor, it was considerably darker, the outside light unable to penetrate the stone walls. The torches placed evenly on the walls did little for sight. I walked along the stone floor, my steps echoing before me. The corridor lead to another, which lead to another until I found myself in a hall leading to two sets of doors.

There, I could hear the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. Voices singing, harmonising, soaring. The sound crisp and resonating in the halls. I found a bench and sat to listened to the melody. The voices soothed me, their message was one I had longed to hear for so long. I closed my eyes just to be there, my emotions had overwhelmed me. Taking deep breaths and wiping the tears that had fallen, I listened to music for God.

I do not know how long I was sat there. My mind was awoken once more when the doors opened to reveal monks flooding out. Some noticed me, some either didn't care or didn't fear me. I stood to see if I could see my brothers face in the crowd of men.

"Aeleva!" The sound of his voice brought me to tears. I turned to see where it had come from. My heart swelled when I finally saw him. He had changed a lot in the few months we had been apart. He had been fed well and had flesh and fat on his body, he had once been skin stretched over bone. His face had grown softer but his eyes remained sharp. He seemed to have aged in his time here, he looked even more like our father. The clothes he wore where that of a monk, with a cross hanging from his neck. The look was plain but the stature suited him much more than that of a plain village boy.