When Kyrillos finally awoke, he was in the abbey hospital. Gildas was there seated in the in chair next to his cot. Upon noticing he was awake, Gildas frowned. "You've come a long way," he said, the furrows in his brow deepening.

Kyrillos smiled softly. His strength had been drained, and he was without sustenance. What little strength he had was that which the Holy Spirit had granted him.

"I haven't seen you since Rome, wise man. I've read your book. I see you've come here to shake out the sloth and simony?"

Gildas' frown gave way to a grim smile. He leaned back into the chair and folded his arms.

"Yes, I suppose you could say that. I still do long for Brittany, but here is as good a place as any. I will go back before I die, I do long for the Gaulish coast, it is so cold here. I have sent for bread and water," Gildas paused and looked into Kyrillos' eyes, searching for answers before he had even asked the question. "Why have you come here?"

Kyrillos chuckled and responded,

"Why must you be such a hard ass?"

The old monk finally cracked a little and they both laughed. Gildas was notorious for his stern exterior, and no-nonsense attitude.

"Well Cyril I suppose that's just how I am," Gildas replied. "Are you going to tell me what the purpose of this visit is or not?"

"After I have had my sustenance and rest, old friend. First, will you do bid me a favor?"

Gildas smiled. "What is is that you require Cyril?"

"Will you shrive me?"

Gildas looked at Kyrillos for a long time. He seemed to be hesitant, almost fighting within himself over something. "I cannot," he said finally. "Not because I do not want to, but I feel... unable to. I'm not the man you once knew, Cyril."

Kyrillos frowned at this. Gildas averted his eyes, and a silence ensued.

"It is a good thing that guard lived," Gildas said by way of changing the subject. "They would have kicked the door down to get to you, holy ground or not. As it is, I've convinced them that you are... unstable, and in need of care. Please tread carefully, as your friends here aren't powerful ones."

"You are powerful in the eyes of the holy most high, Gildas," said Kyrillos, "As for the guard, it is a non fatal technique that I learned of in my travels in Cathay. When can we continue this conversation?"

"We'll talk more after you eat and rest," said the monk.

***

After eating the supper that the nun had brought him, Kyrillos fell into a deep slumber. He would reveal the purpose of his mission to Gildas the next day. He did not have the strength to do so at the moment.

There were nails in his arms, between his ulna and his radius. A large stake had been driven through his ankles, and he could not move. Neither could he breathe, as his diaphragm sunk into his stomach, depleting him of air. He cried out, but had no voice, and wept. The fires burnt him, and his hair shriveled and fell to the ground as ash. His skin melted away, and his muscles burnt. He suffered under the flames for what seemed like an eternity, but on the third day, he arose, reborn...

Kyrillos awoke in a cold sweat. He took the opportunity to relieve himself, and returned to his bed. The dawn was passing, and Gildas entered the infirmary, ahead of one of the nuns. He walked over to Kyrillos and returned to the same seat he had yesterday.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Better," Kyrillos started, "The food and drink has granted me strength that I did not have."

"Good. You still need to rest for a while," The monk replied, "Your fever should abate in a few days."

Kyrillos did not listen to this. He got out of bed and proceeded to do pushups on the infirmary floor. But as he started pumping away, his head began spinning and he felt dizzy.

"I will give you absolution if you like," said Gildas as a way of breaking the silence. "I apologize for my... weakness yesterday." His eyes held dark shadows, and there was the faint smell of spirits emanating from his breath as he talked.

Kyrillos abruptly stopped doing his pushups and lay there for a few moments, feeling woozy. "Noah was a holy man," he began, "Hate the sin, love the sinner. You once told me that."

Gildas didn't say anything to this. Kyrillos got to his feet, and sat on the infirmary cot.

"The holy one absolved me last night," Kyrillos continued, "And he reminded me of my task. Of this we must talk."

The Greek looked deep into Gildas' eyes, and proceeded,

"I must find the sword called Excalibur," the Greek said, "And place it in the service of the line of Zion..."

"I am the wrong man to ask," Gildas interrupted, "The only man that I can think of that can help you is Bedivere, to which Neustia had been given. But he now resides here in the city, at the old baille. He was the last man to have seen the Excalibur, and for that matter, Arthur."

There was a barely audible whisper from across the other side of the room. They looked and saw a haggard looking man arisen from his cot. Bowed at the shoulders and pale, he looked at them with what seemed like panic and a desire to escape in his eyes. Gildas asked, "Pardon?"

"My sword," repeated the man, this time louder. His voice cracked.

The monk got up from his chair and moved towards him, his hands out. "My son, your items are upstairs in the abbey proper. You have nothing to fear here, you are safe."

It was then that Kyrillos thought for his own property. His possessions were bundled by the foot of his bed. As he went through them, it became clear that any weapons he may have had - including the sword from the waterfall - were gone.

Steadying himself on still weak legs, Godivann ignored the dull throb of pain that seemed to permeate every inch of his beaten body as he stumbled his way towards the door. "I will fetch my gear and leave you to your duties..."

Gildas pursued him, a look of surprise on his face, "Hold a moment sir! You are poorly rested. Surely you don't mean to leave in the state you are in?"

"I do," Godivann replied quietly.

"You have only been here less than a day! Where do you plan to go?"

"It matters not, I just cannot stay here."

Meanwhile, Kyrillos got up from his cot and slowly got dressed. Gildas rolled his eyes to the ceiling and chased back after the roman. "Now you want to leave as well?"

"I must see Bedivere, but first I must have my sword. If you grant me it back, I shall have my leave of you."

"There are several guards posted at the main abbey door. You won't be able to exit that way." He needed a drink. "For the love of god, please don't go that way." The last thing he needed was having either one of these two shed blood on the abbey doorstep. He already suspected the Abbess was waiting for the right time to haul him over the coals.

There was a pause from Godivann as he regarded the brother for a moment then his gaze shifted to the old scarred man before turning his focus back to the brother. "How would you have me leave, then?"

Gildas rubbed his forehead, some of his frustration beginning to show through, "My apologies. You sir knight, can leave if you wish via the main entrance... The guards are not here for you." He turned back to Kyrillos. "Cyril... there are charges to answer for according to the King's men. If you come with me to the castle, I can represent you. I'm sure that I can convince the King that you can be released into my care, and as long as you refrain from any further assaults..."

"Fine. But you must return me my sword. Afterwards, it is of dire necessity that we see Bedivere..."