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Sinric comes down from his room, still dressed his furs and heavily embroiled tunic but looking fresh and scrubbed.

He smiles brightly to see Hannibal.

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From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal is wearing the cot and hose of a nobleman, with a dark cloak embroidered with metal thread, and warm boots. He carries a bag, and wears a dagger on his belt.

From:

thewidewideworld

"You look the very image of an Italian noble. A learned man who might well seek access to the abbey's library. Or the company of the likes of Alcuin of York." Sinric smiles, resting one hand in the hilt of Hannibal's knife as he leans up to press a kiss to his lips.

"I will bring you to the foregate and let you make your way from there. The crowd won't be hard to follow. Once inside, I can come upon you by chance after the mass, among the many who will linger. And you will hear me sing. Niketas as bullied the Abbot into permitting me a hymn."

From:

cook_the_rude

"The abbot will be so glad to see Niketas go," Hannibal smiles. "Then he can be king of his anthill again."

Pause.

"However, calling Monte Cassino an anthill is probably close to dangerously underestimating it."

From:

thewidewideworld

"Neither in importance or in stature. Although having climbed to the mountain monasteries of the Tang and Nippon, it is not truly that high or difficult to reach."

He orders the last of his supplies and tucks them in a pouch too small to hold them before walking with Hannibal to the door.

As he opens it, a flurry of fine snow curls around them, although the air is crisp but not bitter. The night has that peculiar warmth that becomes trapped between snow and sky. The path they walk is well tended, a pilgrim's way kept clear by many feet. Indeed, looking back down the side of the mountain, the crowd making their way into the abbey make a snake of lantern light in the darkness.

"Can you make your way from here?" Sinric asks softly as they reach the edge of the crowd. "Mass will be in the larger of the two chapels - dedicated to John the Baptist but built around Apollo's altar."

From:

cook_the_rude

"I will follow the fiery serpent," Hannibal says. "And we will run into each other by the door after the service."

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric gives Hannibal's hand one last squeeze before slipping into the darkness and back towards the abbey.

The costume has the desired effect, the pilgrims on the path greet Hannibal with respect and deference, offering him their lantern light to walk by. For all Christmas mass is a serious affair, it's a social one too and there's much welcoming chatter.

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal falls in with these people, listens to their rustic Latin that is barely on the verge of turning into Italian, makes a few encouraging remarks, laughs once or twice, and learns the lay of the land.

From:

thewidewideworld

Many there are well to do tradesmen and merchants, seeking in their ways to curry favour with both church and god. And a noble, as Hannibal very much carries himself as, it likewise one to gain the favour of.

But Hannibal is saved from their obsequious attentions by the tolling of the bell that calls them in to mass. The chapel is large but not overly so. People naturally sort themselves by social standing, pushing Hannibal towards the front.

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal stands near a column on which there is hung a Byzantine image of St. Panteleimon -- probably a gift from some visiting priest, maybe even Niketas himself -- in front of which a few small tallow candles are burning, and watches the proceedings.

From:

thewidewideworld

The sermons are long and expectedly condescending. However they are broken by chanting and music. Like most of it's time, the monastic hymns are repetitive, but are sung with passion and devotion. And truly, and deeply held love of God.

The Abbot begrudgingly allows Father Tétartos to give a sermon. Niketas had his father's look - not overly tall but broad of shoulder and with a strong round face framed by dark Greek curls. His eyes, not lost but closed and puckered are the only thing marring an otherwise very handsome face.

Unlike the Abbot's droning speech, Niketas is passionate, expressive, eloquent. He speaks of joy and hope renewed, of wonder and beginnings. The celebration of new life.

From:

cook_the_rude

It is a breath of fresh air amid the Benedictine stuffiness, something that !takes even Hannibal perk up and listen.

From:

thewidewideworld

For a priest, Niketas managed to expound the virtues of the season and the goodness of man to his fellow man, without mentioning God all that often.

He does however, introduce Sinric as Oriens, a guest from the court of Charlemagne and a singer of great skill. His praise and his affection are honest, unfeigned.

He may not have eyes left to see, but he turns to Sinric as Sinric moves past him and onto the dais, one hand outstretched to brush Sinric's robe.

Sinric is careful not to return the touch but Hannibal knows him well - knows the warmth in his half hidden smile, the way Sinric half turns as he steps. The way Sinric is so aware of Niketas' presence, even at his back.

Even as he sings. The song is more soaring than the flat chanted hymns, his voice as high and clear as a boy's. But trained and experienced, lacking that naivety.

The hymn is an old one, not popular for some hundreds of years. But one Constantine loved. Niketas steps back into the shadows as Sinric sings, his tears tinged with blood.

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal watches those tears run down Niketas' handsome cheeks as he listens to the song, utterly absorbed.

From:

thewidewideworld

There are tears in Sinric's eyes too. But they are tears of joy, of celebration.

There are more than a few sniffs from the congregation, even those who don't know the meaning behind it.

The Abbot scowls as he takes back his place and the sermon returns to grim control and shame.

But soon enough, the last blessings are made and the crowd are sent onward into the world. Mostly, they don't leave, but mill about, chatting. Many are quick to praise Sinric's singing and Father Tétartos sermon.

From:

cook_the_rude

Hannibal lingers at the edge of the crowd, ready to be accidentally run into.

From:

thewidewideworld

It's Father Tétartos who finds Hannibal first, a long cane in his hand and a young monk at his elbow. "Il dottore Fell?" He calls, his voice rich and warm. "Oriens mentioned seeing you amongst the congregation. Welcome, sir." He gesture away from the crowd. "Would you walk with me?"

From:

cook_the_rude

"Of course, gladly," Hannibal says. "I would be honoured."

There is a deference in his voice beyond the mere politeness owed to a priest.

From:

thewidewideworld

Niketas gently shoos away the young monk, assuring him he'll be quite alright. He holds a hand out to Hannibal, asking for an elbow to guide and be guided by.

He heads out of the chapel and into the quiet of the naive, deeper into the enclave proper. He waits till they're private before speaking. "Thank you. For coming and for speaking with me. I can't imagine how strange this must be. To walk in a time not your own."

From:

cook_the_rude

"I have ventured out with Sinric before," Hannibal says, providing a steady elbow. "But still, it never fails to deeply awe me."

From:

thewidewideworld

"He is such a generous soul. I wish- I regret not knowing him better, before he and Father left us." He lowers blind eyes. "And I am glad God had guided us back together. The last words I sent to him were unkind. And I have regretted them since."

He offers Hannibal a soft smile. "I feel perhaps you are a man who appreciates his kind heart too?"

From:

cook_the_rude

"His kind heart, and his hidden steel and fire," Hannibal says. "I try to appreciate all his many facets."

From:

thewidewideworld

"His hidden steel and fire." Niketas echoes, a smile curling full lip. "Yes. That's... very true. No-one within those could have survived everything he's been through and still be- well, alive. Let alone come out as strong as he has."

He huffs ruefully, "Heaven knows I have not."

"But enough of me, what of you? What can I show you of this little community before Sinric realises I've stolen you away?"

From:

cook_the_rude

"As it's not the season for the herb garden," Hannibal says, "I think the library would be best. I wonder if they still have some of Cassiodorus' original hundred books."

From:

thewidewideworld

"It's a beautiful library." Niketas chuckles. "Even if too few of the monks here can read even half of it." He gently steers Hannibal towards the library with sure, ease strides. The way there he knows without hesitating.

"And Sinric will know to find us there. He often does." He sighs, "If only I was worthy to keep him at at my side."

From:

cook_the_rude

"He has seen different things on his path," Hannibal says, "and yours. It has nothing to do with worth. Look for the Normans coming to Sicily; that's probably where you can find each other again, after another half a lifetime, when you are old. That's all I can think of."