A week passed and the money did not magically disappear. This was much to Abbot Gunter and everyone in the scriptorium’s relief. Especially Brother Æthelwine. Æthelwine was pretty sure if the money had actually been magical, nothing could stop Brother Wulfric from tearing his belly open while he was still alive with his bare hands. The werewolf hasn’t even needed to threaten that. Brother Æthelwine could tell based on the other monk’s very look when he announced he got the money from his mother and all was saved.  

But the money was safe and he, Sister Maud, Wulfric, Abbot Gunter, and Brother Bedwig were going to the market to meet up with the merchant to buy the ultramarine. Sister Maud and Brother Bedwig were brought along as the muscle in case anyone tried to rob them on the way back to the monastery. The nun had magic and the former outlaw was extremely good at looking explicitly intimidating without having to actually do anything. (Brother Æthelwine supposed having a massive gaping hole where your nose was supposed to be helped his intimidation factor. It marked him as a seasoned criminal, after all.) Also, Sister Maud was still furious that Abbot Gunter hadn’t woken her up when the Queen of the Forest arrived, so this was the abbot’s way of extending the olive branch. 

The merchant was exactly where he said he would be a week ago. He stood in front of his cart, with his hands on his hips. His body guards stood close behind him, armed to the very teeth. Abbot Gunter gripped his crozier. The money in the pouch on his belt clinked as he walked.

“Hello,” Abbot Gunter said. “I would like to purchase the ultramarine.”

“I didn’t think you’d show up,” the merchant said.

“I hope you aren’t too disappointed.”

The merchant didn’t reply. He was too busy staring at Brother Bedwig’s distinct lack of a nose. 

“Did you steal the money?” The merchant asked. 

“No, it was an extremely generous donation from one of our patrons,” Abbot Gunter replied. 

The merchant stared at the group. He took a long look at Abbot Gunter. “We’ll make the sale inside my carriage.”

Abbot Gunter nodded. Together they went inside the merchant’s elaborate carriage. The monks and nun waited with baited breath. Æthelwine clasped his hands together and prayed the sale would go through and absolutely nothing would go wrong. Wulfric stood beside him, doing the same thing. Sister Maud watched the two monks with mild annoyance. Brother Bedwig watched with mild amusement. When he was a bandit, he could have totally taken out both guards somewhat easily, as long as he had the element of surprise on them. If he had had his band of outlaws, they could have taken the merchant’s wagon easily and left the entire trading troop all dead or dying. 

Brother Bedwig approached one of the guards, who eyed him wearily. 

“Is it really just the two of you?” he asked quietly. “Friendly advice, if you’re carrying this kind of cargo, there really should be more than two of you.”

“Is that a threat?” The first bodyguard asked.

“It’s a warning,” Brother Bedwig said. “There’s got to be more than two–ow!”

Sister Maud poked him sharply in the back with her freakishly sharp fingernail. “We didn’t bring you to chat.”

“Ow, alright, God’s teeth,” Brother Bedwig murmured. He took a few steps back. Sister Maud scowled at him. His rough ways may have mellowed out somewhat, but the lay brother occasionally forgot himself around other strong men. He was more self aware regarding his unsavory appearance around the oblates and women. 

Soon enough, Abbot Gunter came out with a box and an excited grin. The moment he saw his monks and Sister Maud, his face immediately turned stoic. Despite his neutral face, excitement radiated off of the man like sunlight.

“Let us return,” Abbot Gunter said. He handed the box to Sister Maud who took it with no complaints or glee. The abbot mounted his horse. Sister Maud handed the box back to him, before she mounted her own horse. Brother Bedwig led the way back to the monastery as Brothers Æthelwine and Wulfric followed behind eagerly. 

It was only once they reached the scriptorium did Abbot Gunter open the box in front of his flock. He had made sure he watched the merchant put the pigment into the box while they were in the carriage. He would not risk the merchant giving him false pigment, or worse: an empty box. The entire time he rode back to the monastery, he was terrified that they would be waylaid by bandits or attacked by Northmen or his horse would startle and he would drop the box. But none of that happened. Thanks be to God!

His flock huddled around the table the box rested upon. All the scriptorium monks and nuns had pushed their way to the front. Brother Benet was practically vibrating with excitement, as were Brother Æthelwine and Brother Wulfric. Abbot Gunter calmly opened the box. The blue pigment sat there, as precious as a relic. 

“Who gets to use it first?” Brother Benet asked, “Sir.”

“As Brother Æthelwine was the one who procured the funds, he will be allowed to use it first. There will be no argument regarding my decision.”

Brother Wulfric closed his mouth. 

Abbot Gunter ordered the ingredients to make paint be brought to Brother Æthelwine’s desk. Sister Ediva brought the supplies. Brother Æthelwine wasn’t sure if the ultramarine would be better mixed with egg white or egg yolk, but decided to use egg white. He feared egg yolk might make the ultramarine greenish in tone. They already had so little. It was best not to risk any errors. As he made a tiny bit of paint, Abbot Gunter retrieved a folio destined to be in his new psalter. Once the paint was finished and put in its sea shell, Abbot Gunter placed the folio with the outline of the Virgin Mary on Brother Æthelwine’s desk. 

The elf took a deep breath to steady his shaking hands. 

He dipped the paintbrush into the blue. 

He placed the brush to the parchment.

He painted.

The blue was even brilliant on the parchment. 

Everyone oohed and ahhed and Abbot Gunter seriously considered whether or not he should just save the pigment for his own personal manuscripts. He thought about the massive hassle it was to get it and the humiliation he had to undergo.

….Half of the pigment would go to his own psalter and the other half would be used sparingly in clients’ manuscripts who could afford the massive price increase he was going to offer for the ultramarine. He should at least be able to benefit both spiritually and financially from this whole fiasco. Perhaps, if he charged enough, they could buy some more the next time a merchant selling it came to the village, but only God knew when that would be!

For now, Abbot Gunter and his flock would celebrate their beautiful blue victory.