Out of Nowhere Read Free Page A

he could learn from her example.
    ‘The past is gone anyway,’ she’d said. ‘Maybe I’d hate it if I knew about it. Maybe I was someone awful, or worse, maybe I was someone boring! Perhaps I’ll never find out who I was. But in the meantime the present is here, and I’m here, and I’m needed. The monks need all the help they can get right now.’
    It seemed sensible enough. In the middle of thinking so, Stephen fell asleep.

3. The Bearded Monk
    Stephen was woken at some dead hour of the night by a dreadful sound – a long, singing howl that made his flesh creep and the hairs on the back of his neck stand erect. He was terrified for a moment, not knowing where he was. Just as he started to think that he’d dreamed it, he heard it again. It was the sound a lonely, wounded night would make, if lonely, wounded nights could make sounds. It also sounded like it came from just below his window.
    Stephen was shivering in a cold sweat. He wanted to crawl under the quilt and pull it over his head. Instead, he made himself get out of bed, go to the window and look out. The window was ajar, and the sweet air of the summer night brought in a scent of distant greenery. The dark blue sky was spangled with shimmering stars. The moon was fat and silver, and it lit the courtyard clearly with a cold, white light.
    In the middle of the courtyard, a very tall man was moving in crazy circles around the well. He was being chased by a young monk who seemed in no great hurry to catch him. He trailed half-heartedly in the tall man’s ragged course, not even trying to catch up with him. The fugitive himself didn’t seem to notice the monk.
    ‘Where are you?’ he roared out suddenly to someone orsomething. ‘Unshade me! It hurts !’
    ‘ Unshade me ?’ thought Stephen, puzzled. But he was sure that was what he had said. The man was old – a big old stick of a man with a gaunt face and raggy white hair that shone silver in the moonlight. His head was thrown back as he staggered around, howling at the moon. Stephen shuddered at the weird sight.
    The grotesque pair rounded the well a few times. Then another monk entered the courtyard from a doorway somewhere beneath Stephen’s window, a big, bearded man who stood for a moment, watching the chase. Then he snapped at the young monk in a stern voice with an Irish accent – the first Stephen had heard.
    ‘Catch up, you little eejit! You’re like a pup after an ould buck rabbit, half afraid to catch what it’s hunting.’
    Spurred on by this, or perhaps more afraid of the newcomer than of the old man, the pursuer put on a spurt of speed. He caught up with the staggering figure easily, and threw his arms around his waist. The fugitive lashed out with one thin arm and sent him sprawling. But the monk was suddenly game – he threw himself bodily at the man, grabbing hold of him again. This time the old man just kept going, dragging the monk behind him. It would have looked funny if it hadn’t been so sinister.
    ‘He’s too strong!’ the monk shouted in a panicky voice.
    The bearded monk gave a loud sigh. He went over and stood in the old man’s path. Stephen noticed that he was almost as tall as the old man, and heavily built.
    ‘Such gods as there be, please forgive me,’ the big monksaid. Then he punched the old man, once, in the jaw. The fugitive grunted and went down like a pole-axed cow, pulling the young monk down with him. With a little squawk, the monk scrambled to his feet. He stood looking from one big man to the other.
    ‘You hit him!’ he said, sounding outraged and impressed all at once.
    The big monk sighed.
    ‘I did,’ he said. ‘I hit him.’ He put a hand on the young monk’s shoulder. ‘It’s never nice, son,’ he said. ‘But sometimes it does just simplify things. He’ll be grand when he wakes up.’
    ‘But won’t it hurt him afterwards?’
    The big monk bent down and heaved the long form of the old man over his shoulder. He straightened up