And although Fara monastery, uniquely among the north-shore holy lands, had its own formidable guard—warrior monks and proud Dane settlers who now called themselves Britons—the Viking raids still swept the coast. Fara had two treasures, now too precious to be risked at any cost. There was the body of Aedar, which whether or not it was still whole in its coffin every few months was reported to have restored someone’s sight, set some lame man walking on his withered limbs or revived a dying child. Miracle, or only the faith of the thousands who came there, burning with hope and belief? It scarcely mattered. The healing was the same, and Aedar of Fara was called a saint. And then there was the book. Many deputations had come from the south, men sent by the new bishop of Hexham, and even from the Canterbury heartlands of the new Roman church. The Gospel of Science, blasphemous or not, was too precious a thing to be left in the hands of half-heathen monks in the north. It should be taken to the proper authorities, submitted for examination.
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