Brother Bergren opened the small, man-sized door that was inside the giant-sized mahogany doors of the monastery. A blond man stood out there, dressed only in a light shirt, jeans and boots. “Evening,” he said in English, hugging himself from the cold. “Any way I can come in?”
Bergren stepped aside and let the man come inside the relative warmth of the air outside. “Thanks,” he said.
“What are you doing out there?” he asked in Swedish.
The man rubbed his wrist, on which was a blue and white braided bracelet. “I’m sorry,” the man said in Swedish, his accent from the southern section of the country. “I didn’t realize how late it was getting. Could I impose on you some hospitality?”
“I would have to ask the abbot. Come this way.”
Bergren began to lead the man out into the courtyard. Some of the brothers saw him, stopped and watched. The man kept his eyes on Bergren’s back, gray eyes boring into the back of Bergren’s neck. Bergren shivered, pulled his hood up over his head. The man closed the distance between them and they headed to the abbot’s cell.
Brother Niklas stopped him at the entrance. “He is at prayer. Who is this?”
“A man from outside, who has asked for hospitality.”
Niklas stared at the man. “We allow no one in our monastery.”
“I’ve been walking for hours, and didn’t realize night was coming down on me. I only ask for a safe place to sleep, and I will be on my way.”
The door opened. “Who is out–” The abbot was a tall man, in a robe as shapeless as the rest of them. He looked at the blond man, then opened the door fully. “I’ve been waiting for you,” said the abbot, in English.
The man raised an eyebrow.
“Come inside. We have some things to discuss.”
“We do, huh?” the man said, and followed the abbot inside.
The abbot closed the door. To one side was a table with two chairs, a carafe and two cups. “I was told you would be on the road. Please, have some wine.”
“Who told you?”
“Angels, of course.”
The man let a small smile creep across his face. “Of course.” He sat on the rickety chair that looked like it had not been sat in for ages. The abbot poured two glasses of wine. “What else did they say?”
“You’re looking for someone,” he said, and sat down. “Someone with this.” He went into his pocket, and pulled out a ring, with a square of diamonds. The abbot set the ring down between them.
The man whispered, “Is he here?”
“No.” The abbot drank from the wine. “But he knew you would look for him.”
The blond man stared at the ring, dipped his finger in the wine, and drew something on the wooden table with the wine. He set the ring there. In miniature, was Mikael handing the ring to the abbot, then darkness.
“You don’t believe me?”
“I don’t trust anyone,” the blond man said, sweeping his hand across the table, scooping the ring up and pocketing it casually. “Most especially men of God.” The blond man drank deeply of the wine. “I suppose I should be going–”
“Wait,” the abbot said, putting his hand out. “Do you want to know anything about–”
“No,” the blond man said coldly. “I know all I need to know.”
“He loves you.”
The man leaned in, “Bullshit. If he loved me, he wouldn’t have left me.”
“He wants you to hold onto that until–”
The blond man got up quickly, and the chair toppled over. “NEVER again.”
“Mikael–”
His eyes flashed. “I have what I have now. If you see him, tell him to not even come near me.” He went to the door. “In fact, tell him to go to hell.”
He threw open the door and flew madly down the hall, shoving past other brothers of the monastery, until he got to the courtyard. Then he took a running leap and jumped out into the darkness, disappearing.