Abbot Gunter quickly returned to his chambers and locked the door to his study before going to his bedroom and locking the door to that too. He changed out of his night clothes, bound his breasts, and put on his habit, hose, shoes and cross. It took him longer than he would have liked to tie his hose to his drawers, but he could not risk his hose falling down in front of the Queen of the Forest. He selected his silver crozier with the inlaid gems and enamel cross. Pausing, he put that one back in its cabinet and selected his wooden one with the intricately carved handle and crook. Brother Æthelwine had carved it. Carrying around an expensive crozier while begging for money would not exactly help his case. But showing off Brother Æthelwine’s many artistic talents would help his case. Most mothers loved bragging about their children and hearing others brag about them. Abbot Gunter guessed the Queen of the Forest was likely to be such a woman if she arrived literally the day the letter was sent. (And as much as Gunter wanted the Queen of the Forest to agree to give them money before the week was out, he would have preferred it if she had at least arrived the next day instead of the evening when he wanted to go to bed. At least she came before the sun had set. It was summer in Northumbria. The sun did not set until very very late.) 

Gunter rushed out of his chambers, clutching his crozier. He didn’t have time to tell the nuns. He’d never hear the end of it from Maud, but that was a risk he was willing to take. Abbot Gunter went into the cloister, where his monks and oblates were walking down the steps from their dormitory cells to the front entrance. Abbot Gunter looked them up and down quickly, ensuring each man and boy was properly dressed and presentable. Brother Christopher approached him. 

“Yes, Brother Christopher?”

“Your hair is sticking up in the back.” The monk pointed at his head. 

“Oh, thank you,” Abbot Gunter quickly smoothed it down with his free hand. 

“Wait, it’s still—no, you’re missing it—let me do it, please sir.”

Abbot Gunter allowed his monk to fix his hair. He glanced over at Brother Hywel who nodded to indicate that Brother Christopher did indeed fix his hair and not mess it up further. 

“Thank you,” Abbot Gunter said to his monk.

“You’re welcome. Should I open the gates now?”

“Yes, and quickly, please.”

Brother Christopher nodded and ran off. Abbot Gunter gripped his wooden staff. Brother Christopher was often a mystery to him. He did not like Brother Christopher and was well aware the man did not like him either, but sometimes the monk could be genuinely helpful…on extremely rare occasions. Abbot Gunter wondered if Brother Christopher had been up to something that he wanted to hide…well, if he didn’t see it, then it didn’t happen. He had bigger things to worry about right now. Like if Maud would have his head for not inviting the nuns to this welcoming. 

Brother Christopher opened the gates. The Queen of the Forest’s elven entourage stared at the monks and oblates with pure disdain. Abbot Gunter waited for the Queen of the Forest to speak first. 

She looked him up and down with her harsh grey eyes. 

“Where is my son?” she asked. 

Abbot Gunter looked around. Where was Brother Æthelwine? Had no one brought him out?

“He is in the infirmary, your grace,” Abbot Gunter said. “He has injured his back badly.”

“How?” The word cut the air like a newly sharpened knife. 

“He was hard at work…hunting,” Abbot Gunter lied. He wanted to save face. He knew how proud elves were. If the Queen knew that Brother Æthelwine threw out his back trying to do a cartwheel or a backflip or whatever the hell he had been doing, it would be very embarrassing for the Queen.

“No he wasn’t, sir!” Thorkil, one of the newest oblates, shouted. 

“Hush!” Brother Finnguine, the novice master hissed. 

“But he wasn’t! You said he was trying to do a backflip in the scriptorium! ”

Brother Finnguine grabbed Thorkil’s hand and quickly escorted him back into the cloister as the boy protested about lying being a sin. Abbot Gunter mentally groaned. 

Thorkil was the grandson of Guðfastr, a local Dane. The four year old boy had yet to learn how to behave properly. The only reason Abbot Gunter even took Thorkil in was because Guðfastr regularly told his invader friends that there was no monastery in the area and to search elsewhere. Abbot Gunter was glad to raise a potential raider as a monk. Besides, as much as he hated to admit it, the child was collateral of sorts. If Guðfastr ever decided to turn on the monastery, his grandson would be in the carnage. And if his grandson was in the carnage, then Guðfastr’s daughter and husband would want revenge on Guðfastr and a blood feud would start. And no one wanted a blood feud to start. Especially not little Thorkil’s parents. Yes, they had given him to the monastery but they loved Thorkil deeply, visited at least once a week and often brought treats for the children. 

Abbot Gunter slowly turned to the Queen. “Children come up with such funny stories.”

“Was he doing one of his stupid backflips again?” She asked in a tone that indicated if he lied to her she would kill him on the spot.

“He tried,” Abbot Gunter said.

The Queen of the Forest rolled her eyes. “Take me to my son.”

“Of course,” Abbot Gunter dismissed his flock with a wave of the hand. They all started to go back to their cells. Abbot Gunter touched Brother Hywel’s shoulder. “Not you.”

“Yes sir,” Brother Hywel murmured. 

Gunter would have preferred Maud by his side, but Brother Hywel would have to do for now. He knew a thing or two about dealing with royalty, even if he staunchly denied it. (Brother Hywel was the son of King Cadfael, a ruler of a small Welsh kingdom Gunter could never remember the name of. He had been exiled by his father for the shameful sodomic tendencies as a youth and claimed he would be a bad king because he did not know how taxes worked. Abbot Gunter was well aware that was just Hywel’s flimsy excuse so he did not have to rule when his father eventually died.) 

Brother Hywel walked slightly behind Abbot Gunter as he escorted the Queen of the Forest to the infirmary.

“Was your journey well, your grace?” Abbot Gunter asked.

“It was fine,” she said. “Why lie to me about Æthelwine?”

“...I thought a small white lie in front of your entourage would be preferable,” Abbot Gunter said smoothly. 

The Queen sucked in her cheeks, but said nothing.

“He is recovering,” Abbot Gunter said. “This is the first time in a long time he’s done such a thing.” 

The Queen of the Forest did not look at Abbot Gunter. He said nothing more for the remainder of their walk, but prayed that when they entered the infirmary Brother Æthelwine was not doing anything too stupid.