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Biological control of dengue epidemic in Sri Lanka

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By Professor M. W. Amarasiri de silva

The dengue hotspot pattern observed in Sri Lanka in 2025 reflects several interconnected realities shaped by urbanisation, climate, and human mobility. Colombo continues to stand out as the country’s strongest hotspot. Its dense housing clusters, construction activity, and high daily movement of people create ideal conditions for Aedes aegypti to thrive. The combination of crowded neighbourhoods and rapid urban development ensures that even small pockets of stagnant water become breeding sites, allowing the mosquito population to regenerate quickly, despite control efforts.

Gampaha and Kalutara together formed a continuous coastalurban dengue belt. These districts share similar environmental and demographic characteristics—large suburban populations, expanding commercial zones, and frequent waterlogging during monsoons. Their proximity to Colombo also contributes to the spread of dengue, as human movement between districts facilitates the circulation of the virus. This coastal belt has become one of the most persistent dengue-affected regions in the country.

Kandy has shown elevated transmission, driven by hillside urbanisation and household waterstorage practices. As the city expands into hilly terrain, construction sites, terraced housing, and irregular drainage systems create numerous microhabitats for mosquito breeding. In many areas, residents rely on stored water due to intermittent supply, and these containers often become breeding grounds, if not properly covered. The combination of climate, geography, and human behaviour makes Kandy a recurring hotspot.

Kurunegala has emerged as a major inland hotspot with repeated outbreaks. Its role as a transportation hub, coupled with rapid suburban growth, has led to increased mosquito density. The district’s mix of urban and semiurban environments provides abundant breeding sites, and seasonal rainfall patterns further amplify transmission cycles. Kurunegala’s dengue burden has remained consistently high over the past decade.

Batticaloa and Trincomalee experienced rising case numbers, linked to rapid development and monsoon-driven breeding cycles. Both districts have seen significant expansion in housing, tourism, and infrastructure. Heavy monsoon rains frequently create standing water in lowlying coastal areas, while new construction sites add additional breeding opportunities. These conditions have contributed to a noticeable increase in dengue transmission in the eastern region.

Jaffna, meanwhile, faces periodic spikes, influenced by climate variability and urban expansion. The district’s unique climatic conditions, particularly rising temperatures and irregular rainfall, have made mosquito breeding more favourable in recent years. Urban growth, combined with waterstorage practices common in the peninsula, has created environments where dengue outbreaks can flare unexpectedly. These periodic spikes highlight how climate change and development patterns are reshaping dengue risk in northern Sri Lanka.

One Sri Lanka’s most persistent public health emergencies

Dengue fever has entrenched itself as one of Sri Lanka’s most persistent public-health emergencies, with the country recording more than 80,000 cases in 2023 and surpassing 60,000 cases by mid-2024, according to national surveillance data. In some years, the toll has climbed even higher, with 2017 marking a historic peak of over 186,000 cases, overwhelming hospitals and prompting emergency responses across multiple districts. Colombo, Gampaha, Kandy, Kurunegala, and Batticaloa have repeatedly emerged as hotspots, reflecting a pattern in which densely populated urban and semi-urban regions bear the brunt of transmission. The economic cost is equally staggering: dengue-related healthcare expenditure, lost productivity, and household financial strain collectively amount to billions of rupees annually. These figures underscore a reality that Sri Lanka has lived with for decades; dengue is not merely a seasonal illness, but a structural challenge woven into the country’s environment, infrastructure, and public-health landscape.

Resilience of Aedes aegypti mosquito

Despite extensive public-health campaigns, fogging operations, school-based awareness programmes, and community clean-up drives, dengue continues to return with alarming regularity. The Aedes aegypti mosquito, the primary vector of dengue, has adapted with remarkable efficiency to Sri Lanka’s climate and human behaviour. It thrives in warm, humid conditions, breeds in even the smallest containers of stagnant water, and has evolved to exploit the very environments humans create, construction sites, household water storage, discarded plastic, and clogged drains. Its eggs can survive for months in dry conditions, waiting for the slightest moisture to hatch. This biological resilience has made dengue control a formidable challenge, one that traditional methods alone have struggled to overcome.

Fogging, a widely used method in Sri Lanka, targets adult mosquitoes but has limited reach. It cannot penetrate every corner of a neighbourhood, nor can it eliminate eggs or larvae hidden in sheltered containers. Larviciding is more targeted but requires consistent application and community cooperation, both of which are difficult to sustain over long periods. Public-awareness campaigns, though essential, often face behavioural fatigue. People may clean their surroundings diligently for a few weeks, only for old habits to return once the immediate threat seems to have passed. The mosquito’s ability to exploit even small lapses in environmental cleanliness allows it to rebound quickly. As a result, Sri Lanka finds itself trapped in a cycle of control, decline, and resurgence that has persisted for years.

New possibilities

In recent years, however, scientific developments emerging internationally have introduced new possibilities for dengue control, particularly biological methods that intervene directly in the mosquito’s reproductive process. One such approach involves releasing specially bred male mosquitoes that carry a biological trait preventing their offspring from surviving. These males, which do not bite and, therefore, pose no risk to humans, are released into areas with high mosquito density. They mate with wild females, and the resulting larvae inherit the trait that causes them to die before reaching adulthood. Over time, this leads to a significant reduction in the mosquito population. Field trials in several countries have shown reductions of more than 80 percent in targeted areas, a level of suppression far greater than what traditional methods typically achieve.

Precision is the key

What makes this approach particularly compelling is its precision. It targets only the dengue-carrying mosquito species without affecting other insects or the broader ecosystem. Unlike chemical insecticides, which can harm beneficial species and contribute to environmental contamination, this biological method is species-specific and environmentally safe. It also leverages the mosquito’s own behaviour specifically, the male’s strong ability to locate females, to deliver the intervention effectively. The method does not rely on perfect community compliance or constant human vigilance. Even if some breeding sites remain, the released males continue to seek out females and disrupt the reproductive cycle. This makes the approach resilient in real-world conditions where complete environmental cleanliness is difficult to achieve.

Sri Lanka’s dengue situation aligns closely with the conditions under which this biological method has proven effective elsewhere. The country’s warm climate, high humidity, and dense urbanisation create ideal breeding conditions for Aedes aegypti. Urban areas, such as Colombo, Gampaha, and Kandy, experience repeated outbreaks, often linked to rapid development, inadequate waste management, and the proliferation of small water-holding containers. Semi-urban and rural areas are not spared either, especially where household water storage practices create opportunities for mosquito breeding. The mosquito’s adaptability means that even well-intentioned community efforts can fall short. A single forgotten bucket, a clogged drain, or a neglected construction site can become a breeding hotspot capable of sustaining transmission.

Strong foundation for biological methods

Sri Lanka’s public-health infrastructure, however, offers a strong foundation for integrating new biological methods into existing dengue-control strategies. The Epidemiology Unit, local Medical Officer of Health (MOH) offices, and Public Health Inspectors (PHIs) maintain detailed surveillance systems that track dengue cases and mosquito density. These systems allow authorities to identify high-risk zones and respond quickly during outbreaks.

The country has experience with biological control in agriculture and environmental management, meaning the concept of using biological methods to suppress pests is not unfamiliar. Sri Lankan scientists and institutions, including the Medical Research Institute and several universities, have the capacity to collaborate with international partners to evaluate and implement such approaches.

If Sri Lanka were to explore the biological suppression method, pilot projects could be conducted in selected high-density urban areas. These projects would involve releasing specially bred male mosquitoes over several months and monitoring changes in mosquito population density and dengue case numbers. The results would provide valuable data on the method’s effectiveness under Sri Lankan conditions. If successful, the approach could be expanded gradually to other districts. Importantly, this method would not replace traditional control measures but rather complement them. Community clean-up efforts, larviciding, and personal protection would remain essential components of dengue control. The biological method would strengthen the overall strategy by attacking the mosquito population at its root, reducing the number of mosquitoes capable of transmitting the virus.

The potential benefits for Sri Lanka are significant. A sustained reduction in mosquito populations would lead to fewer dengue cases, less pressure on hospitals, and reduced economic burden on families and the healthcare system.

Schools would face fewer disruptions, and communities would experience greater peace of mind during monsoon seasons. The environmental advantages are also noteworthy. Reducing reliance on chemical insecticides would help protect beneficial insects and reduce chemical exposure for humans. The biological method’s species-specific nature ensures that it does not interfere with ecological balance.

Sri Lanka’s dengue challenge is not merely a medical issue but a social and economic one. Families often face financial strain when a member falls ill, especially if hospitalisation is required. Parents worry about children during school outbreaks, and workplaces experience reduced productivity when employees are affected. The psychological burden is also considerable. Dengue outbreaks create anxiety, particularly when severe cases or fatalities occur in the community. A more effective and sustainable control method would alleviate these burdens and contribute to national well-being.

The country’s experience with COVID-19 demonstrated the importance of scientific innovation, public-health preparedness, and community cooperation. Sri Lanka mobilised resources, strengthened surveillance, and adopted new technologies to manage the pandemic. The same spirit of innovation and collaboration can be applied to dengue control. Biological suppression methods represent a new frontier in public health, offering tools that are more precise, sustainable, and effective than traditional approaches. By exploring these methods, Sri Lanka can position itself at the forefront of dengue-control innovation in South Asia.

Of course, any new method must be evaluated carefully. Public acceptance is crucial, and communities must be informed about the safety and purpose of releasing male mosquitoes. Transparent communication, community engagement, and scientific oversight would be essential components of any pilot project. Sri Lanka has a strong tradition of public-health education, and this can be leveraged to ensure that communities understand and support new approaches. The involvement of local scientists and institutions would also help build trust and ensure that the method is adapted appropriately to Sri Lankan conditions.

The fight against dengue requires both persistence and innovation. Traditional methods have served the country well but have not been able to eliminate the threat. The mosquito has proven too adaptable, too resilient, and too deeply embedded in the environment. To break the cycle of recurring outbreaks, Sri Lanka must consider new tools that go beyond conventional approaches. Biological suppression methods offer a promising path forward, one that aligns with scientific advances, environmental sustainability, and the practical realities of mosquito behaviour.

Sri Lanka stands at a crossroads in its dengue-control journey. The country can continue relying solely on traditional methods, accepting the recurring burden of outbreaks, or it can embrace new scientific approaches that offer the possibility of long-term suppression. The choice is not between old and new but between a limited toolkit and a more comprehensive strategy. By integrating biological methods into its dengue-control efforts, Sri Lanka can strengthen its ability to protect communities, reduce disease burden, and build a healthier future.

The challenge is significant, but so is the opportunity. Dengue has shaped Sri Lanka’s public-health landscape for decades, but it does not have to define the country’s future. With scientific innovation, community cooperation, and strategic planning, Sri Lanka can move toward a future where dengue is no longer a seasonal crisis but a manageable threat. The biological suppression method represents one of the most promising tools available today, and its relevance to Sri Lanka is clear. The time has come to explore it seriously, evaluate it rigorously, and consider how it can be integrated into the nation’s ongoing fight against dengue.

In moving toward this future, Sri Lanka would benefit from adopting a clear policy direction that recognises dengue as a long-term structural challenge requiring modern solutions. A national policy framework could begin with pilot deployments of biological suppression methods in selected high-risk districts, supported by rigorous scientific monitoring and community engagement. It could establish partnerships between local research institutions and international experts to ensure that the technology is adapted safely and effectively to Sri Lankan conditions. The policy could also strengthen environmental management systems, ensuring that waste disposal, urban planning, and water-storage practices reduce opportunities for mosquito breeding. Public-health education could be expanded to emphasise both traditional preventive measures and the role of new biological tools. Over time, the policy could evolve into a nationwide programme that integrates biological suppression with surveillance, environmental management, and community participation, creating a comprehensive and sustainable dengue-control strategy.

Such a policy would not only reduce dengue transmission but also demonstrate Sri Lanka’s commitment to scientific innovation and public-health leadership. It would signal a shift from reactive crisis management to proactive disease suppression, offering hope to communities that have endured the burden of dengue for far too long. The path forward requires courage, collaboration, and a willingness to embrace new ideas. But the reward, a healthier, safer, and more resilient Sri Lanka, is well worth the effort.

Integrating new developments into dengue control strategies offers a promising opportunity for Sri Lanka to enhance public health and protect communities across the island. By adopting innovative solutions, improving mosquito management, and building stronger public awareness, the country can significantly reduce infection rates and relieve pressure on healthcare facilities. I hope the government will pay attention to this new development in dengue control and take positive measures to address the issue, ensuring a safer and healthier future for everyone.

The following are some scientific papers explaining the new method for Sri Lankan scientists to follow. Research on Wolbachia-mediated biological control demonstrates that introgressing Wolbachia bacteria into Aedes aegypti populations significantly limits virus transmission and alters reproductive mechanisms (Al Noman et al., 2023).

Systematic reviews evaluating mathematical models of vector control highlight that biological methods, including the release of Wolbachia-infected mosquitoes, copepods, and larvivorous fish, offer self-sustaining mechanisms for reducing dengue transmission compared to traditional chemical alternatives (Ogunlade et al., 2023).

Broader vector-control frameworks integrate biological control alongside disease surveillance and biotechnological innovations as essential components of a multi-pronged approach to dengue mitigation (Procopio et al., 2024).

Also, there are number of TED talks on the subject such as TED talk on biological control of dengue fever. You may google and find these valuable discussions which explains the method



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Combining local resources,traditional knowledge and science to build a food-secure Sri Lanka

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World Food Day 2026: Innovating today for a better food future

by Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara

What will be on the Sri Lankan dinner table ten years from now? Will our children be able to get nutritious food at a price their families can afford? Will farmers be able to grow enough despite changing weather and rising costs? And how much of the food we produce will actually reach the consumer, instead of being lost or wasted along the way?

These questions can’t wait. A farmer faces unpredictable weather. A family faces rising food costs. Fruit goes unsold after a good harvest. Some children do not get enough nutrition. The future of food is tied to the future of Sri Lanka itself.

World Food Day 2026 is a chance to look beyond the immediate problems and ask whether we can build a food system that feeds our people well, gives farmers better opportunities, protects the environment and makes better use of what we already have. The answer can be yes, but we will have to think differently.

We are not starting from zero. Sri Lanka has diverse crops, fisheries, traditional food knowledge, indigenous varieties, research institutions, universities and a young generation able to create new solutions. What we need is to bring these together and act. Producing more will not secure our food future on its own. It will depend on how intelligently we produce, process, preserve, distribute and consume food.

Making more of what we already have

Innovation does not always mean inventing something new. Often it means finding better uses for the resources we have.

Sri Lanka grows traditional rice varieties, kurakkan, green gram, cowpea, jackfruit, breadfruit, cassava, sweet potato, coconut and palmyrah. All of them have great potential for modern, nutritious, value-added foods. Jackfruit and breadfruit can be made into flour and other convenient products. Traditional rice varieties can go into new foods that suit changing consumer needs. Palmyrah, with its strong cultural heritage, can create new income through better processing, packaging, quality assurance and market development.

The aim is to connect our traditional food knowledge with modern consumer needs and technology, while keeping our food heritage.

Stop wasting the food we produce

Reducing food loss and waste should be a major priority. Seasonal fruits such as mango, banana, papaya and pineapple can be lost in large quantities when production exceeds demand or when storage, transport and processing facilities are inadequate. With suitable technology, these fruits can become dried products, pulps, powders, beverages and other shelf-stable foods.

Agricultural and fisheries by-products are resources too. They could be turned into food ingredients, animal feed, bio-based products and other useful materials, which would move us toward a more circular food economy.

Technology alone is not enough. We need stronger local processing facilities, cold storage, efficient transport, collection centres and market information systems, especially close to where food is produced. Cutting food loss raises the value of what our farmers and fishers already produce.

Nutrition and food safety come first

Food security means more than having enough food. People also need food that is safe and nutritious.

Sri Lanka can develop affordable, nutritious foods from local pulses, grains, vegetables, fruits and fish. Children and other vulnerable groups should get particular attention. Schoolchildren in particular deserve a focus: safe, nutritious, locally sourced products for school feeding programs would support child nutrition, local farmers and domestic food industries at the same time.

Food safety must stay at the centre of food innovation. Good hygiene, quality control, laboratory testing, traceability and appropriate food safety systems are what make new products safe as well as attractive and nutritious.

A food system that can cope with climate change

Climate change is already affecting agricultural production, water availability, crop yields and food prices. We need food systems that can handle changing conditions. That means climate-resilient crops, efficient water use, soil and water conservation, better storage and resource-efficient food processing.

Traditional knowledge matters here. Generations of Sri Lankan farmers have developed practices suited to local climates and ecosystems. Combining that experience with modern science can give us solutions that fit local conditions and are sustainable. Technology alone will not build the future of food. Science, experience and local knowledge together can.

Give young people a bigger role

Sri Lanka’s universities have an important part to play in shaping our food future. Young people should be encouraged to identify real problems in the food system and work on practical solutions in areas such as food waste, sustainable packaging, nutrition, food safety, modernising traditional foods and digital technologies.

A good research project should not always end as a research paper. Where appropriate, research should be supported to move on to products, technologies, enterprises and community solutions. That needs stronger partnerships between universities and industry, along with mentoring, research funding, business support and market connections. If young researchers and entrepreneurs can turn their ideas into viable food innovations, both consumers and producers will benefit.

A pathway designed for Sri Lanka

We do not need to copy food-system models from other countries. We can build a pathway that suits our own resources, culture and needs. It would bring together local resources, traditional knowledge, scientific research, appropriate technology and entrepreneurship, with farmers, fishers, universities, research institutions, food industries, entrepreneurs and policymakers working side by side.

The goal goes beyond selling raw materials. We need to create more value, reduce waste, improve nutrition, generate jobs and strengthen rural livelihoods. This matters especially for small and medium-scale food enterprises, which can drive local economic development when they get the right technical, financial and market support.

The choices we make today

The food future will not create itself. It will be shaped by what we grow, what we research, what we process, what we consume and what we choose not to waste.

So, the question for World Food Day 2026 is this: what can we do today so that every Sri Lankan has safe, nutritious, affordable and sustainable food tomorrow?

The answers are already around us, in our farms, fisheries, food businesses, universities, laboratories and communities. We have the resources, the traditional knowledge, the scientific expertise and talented young people. What we need now is to connect them and act.

A better food future begins with the choices we make today.

Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara

Senior Lecturer, Department of Biosystems Technology, Faculty of Technology, University of Ruhuna

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20th Anniversary of Digampathana blast – the day Sri Lanka Navy cried

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Aftermath of the terror attack

By Admiral Ravindra C Wijegunaratne
WV, RWP and Bar, RSP, VSV, USP, NI (M) (Pakistan), ndc, psn, Bsc
(Hons) (War Studies) (Karachi) MPhil (Madras)
Former Navy Commander and Former Chief of Defence Staff
Former Chairman, Trincomalee Petroleum Terminals Ltd
Former Managing Director Ceylon Petroleum Corporation
Former High Commissioner to Pakistan

The Digampathana suicide truck attack on 16th October 2006 remains the deadliest single strike in Sri Lanka Navy history, leaving scars that time cannot erase.

It was a seemingly ordinary Monday morning on 16 October 2006, but the calm of that day would soon be shattered in a way none of us could have imagined. As the Commandant of the Naval and Maritime Academy and Flag Officer Commanding Naval Fleet at Trincomalee, I was aware that a number of my cadets were travelling that morning, part of a convoy of fifteen buses carrying naval personnel from Trincomalee, Colombo, and other bases, heading toward Dambulla to rendezvous with another group. The convoy also included trucks and escort vehicles, a routine movement planned and coordinated with the army to ensure the roads were clear. The morning started quietly. Some personnel greeted friends, handed over their weapons, or strolled to a nearby tea shop. It all seemed so ordinary—too ordinary for what would come next.

Sri Lanka Navy sunk LTTE Ships carrying arms, ammunition and warlike materials thousand miles away from Sri Lanka in Indian Ocean in September and October 2007.

By late morning, both convoys had reached the small ground at Digampathana, near the Sigiriya junction, and personnel mingled briefly, unaware that a carefully orchestrated act of terror was waiting. Then, suddenly, an empty half-truck veered directly into the convoy. It exploded with a ferocity I can still recall as if it were yesterday. Nuts, bolts, and high explosives tore through the air. Pandemonium erupted instantly. I later learned that 107 of our naval personnel were killed on the spot and another 153 critically injured. The scene was indescribable—bodies scattered, vehicles mangled, personal effects strewn across the ground. I remember later hearing that the head of the suicide bomber was recovered more than 100 meters away from the blast, a grim testament to the sheer force of the explosion.

I was in my office at the Naval and Maritime Academy when my mobile phone rang. A young midshipman from the 21st intake called, his voice trembling: “Sir, there was a huge explosion at the convoy point! Many are dead … my batch mate Wijesundara is among them.” I immediately jumped into my jeep with my escort Chief Petty Officer and driver and rushed to Digampathana, relying on every ounce of my driving skill to reach the scene. The journey, which usually took little more than an hour, felt endless that day, each passing mile weighed down by dread.

When I arrived, I was confronted with a sight that no training can prepare you for. The injured were being rushed to Dambulla Hospital, where doctors and nurses worked tirelessly, improvising in ways that saved lives despite the overwhelming chaos. I went back to the site after visiting the hospital. The remains of our naval personnel were scattered across the ground, and someone had begun collecting weapons and protective gear. I immediately contacted Surgeon Rear Admiral Nico Jayasekara and received his instructions: collect all body parts in separate bags and transport them to the Trincomalee Naval Hospital mortuary. This gruesome work had to be done with care and dignity, and it filled the icebox in my vehicle. Through DNA testing initiated by Rear Admiral Nico, we were able to identify every naval personnel lost that day, bringing some closure to grieving families.

The Navy Commander at the time, Vice Admiral Wasantha Karannagoda, was devastated. I had worked closely with him and knew how deeply he cared for his men. He ensured that the fallen were honoured with full ceremonial naval funerals at Welisara Naval Base, attended by families and comrades. Sixty-seven funerals were conducted in a single day—a number that still haunts me.

The Digampathana attack remains the largest single loss of naval life in our history. It was a day of sorrow, but also a day that reinforced our resolve. The tragedy galvanized the Navy to target the LTTE Sea Tiger wing with renewed determination and reshaped our maritime operations forever. Every time I think of that day, I remember not just the lives lost, but the courage, professionalism, and dedication of those who survived, those who treated the injured, and those who ensured the fallen were honored properly. May the souls of our naval hero’s rest in peace, their sacrifice guiding us and inspiring generations of naval personnel to come.

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‘Murder at Whitby Abbey’

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Tales of Mystery and Suspense – 24

I was intrigued by the title of a book I found in a book drop at the condominium of a friend, Murder at Whitby Abbey, and I brought it home with me though I will not be able to return it in the near future. It was described on the cover page as ‘a standout in the crowded medieval mystery field’, though I fear I do not know of other books in this field, apart from the Cadfael series, which I have dealt with earlier.

The book, by Cassandra Clark, is set during the reign of Richard II and has as a backdrop his precarious position, which led to his being replaced, and murdered, by his cousin Henry, who reigned as Henry IV. It is a gloomy book, the action taking place in the twelve days of Christmas leading up to the Epiphany. And the gloom is pervasive, even though this is supposed to be a time of festivity, with mummers performing, and many of those in the guest house where the heroine stays going to town to enjoy themselves, with much drinking and much music, which also fills the guesthouse.

The heroine Hildegarde is a nun, sent to try to acquire a relic being sold by Whitby Abbey, though this was also a penance set by the Abbot of the monastery that governed her abbess because she had had sex with a man. Soon after she and her companions reach the Abbey set high on a cliff, she finds that there are other bidders, and soon suspects that the hierarchy, not perhaps the Abbot who seems a weakling, but his rapacious bursar, is determined to make money, and not above creating false relics to sell to several aspirants.

After Hildegarde and her Cistercian companions – Whitby is a Benedictine Foundation – two monks, Gregory and Egbert, and a young priest Mark, reach the abbey, they find that Aelwyn, a monk they had met on their way to the guesthouse had died. This was in the apple store, and they realize, when they find the surplices of novices stuffed into the air vents, that he had been left to suffocate in the overwhelming scent of apples.

Clark

The Cistercians are asked to look into the death, perhaps because they are likely to get no cooperation from the Abbey folk, but perhaps because those in charge are keen to know what happened. And the infirmarer, an old monk, suggests Hildegarde talk to a man called Edred who worked for the bursar, and had been a friend of Aelwyn’s. But Edred too is killed, before he can keep an appointment he had made with Hildegarde, drowned in a pool near the farmhouse of the Abbey.

Meanwhile tensions arise between the fisherfolk and the abbey for the bursar wants to charge them for using the beach that technically belongs to the abbey to dry their fish and their nets. This leads to physical battles, when the guards used by the abbey, under the command it seems of the bursar whose determination to make money is not resisted by the abbot and the prior, try to storm the area where the fishermen live.

Hildegard finds out more about what had happened through two youngsters, one of whom Torold is the son of Aelwyn by a woman who worked as a prostitute for a cartel, and with whom Mark fell in love. The other works on the farm and had seen Edred meet someone near the pool, after which that someone left the place by himself. And the boy had also found in the pool a sort of dagger with the seal of the abbey.

He and his dog, and Torold who follows her, rescue Hildegarde from a man at arms who has waylaid her and tries to rape her earlier. Escaping into the abbey she was nearly been raped then by the bursar, but she managed to escape, in the process setting fire to him and the muniments room, which led, when he was rescued, to the discovery of a box with the money he said had been stolen, blame being cast on both Aelwyn and Edred.

Matters come to a head when the fisherfolk try to storm the abbey, being resisted by the men at arms stationed on the towers. But then Hildegarde realizes that behind the murders was the bursar’s clerk, whom she pursued to the cathedral. There is great drama then as she escapes from him when he tries to kill her, and then from the man at arms who had tried to both rape and kill her, but they both fall from the scaffolding she had climbed, the latter coming from a tower where he had been stationed.

Both of them think they run the rapacity of the abbey, the latter claiming to work for the nobles opposed to Richard, who is presented throughout the book as devoted to his subjects, not to power or money. But though the villains die, the bursar continues, having got over the hysteria the fire had caused and his acknowledgment then of guilt – and though the abbot and the prior seem less vicious, whether they will be able to assert themselves is questionable.

Before the climax, when the others in the guesthouse were leaving, Hildegarde found that two of them were in possession of the relic, for which they seem to have paid well. Hildegarde herself had made a derisory offer, but before she leaves the abbot gives her the relic, perhaps in gratitude for what she and her fellow Cistercians had discovered, the abbey having made as much money as it needed and more from the gullible other buyers.

Mark’s inamorata is saved from the stews because she moves in with Edred’s widow whom the bursar had thrown out of the rooms he occupied when her husband was found dead. Hildegarde had paid for lodgings, in a house run by the man who ran the brothels, but he had a kindly side and was going to finance them to make nets for the fishermen.

So, the Cistercians set off for their home as swiftly as they can to get there on the day of the Epiphany, having stopped en route to pray for King Richard whose birthday it was.

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