[This message has been edited by Civis Romanus (edited 07-20-2006 @ 04:10 PM).]
[This message has been edited by Civis Romanus (edited 07-20-2006 @ 04:10 PM).]
In the flickering light of the hammered tin lantern, the young monk of St. Remacle Abbey read the boldly illuminated text selected for him that day by Brother Anslech, Keeper of the Library. A slight quivering of his jaw signaled the onset of an unavoidable yawn. It worked its way from back to front with irresistable might until the young monk could do nothing else but indulge its imperious might. Yielding to defeat, he hid his open mouth behind his quickly raised hand to ensure nobody saw his fall.
Quickly he glanced around the dim, stone-walled library of the Abbey. Fortunately nobody else was there to see his defeat, except for one. A faint squeaking signaled its presence. The mouse cautiously made its way across the roughly hewn wooden plank floors and then parked itself on its haunches to look expectantly at the young monk, its nose twitching left and right trying to pick up the scent of anything the monk might have.
The monk reached into his pocket and withdrew a small piece of bread. He pinched some of the soft white heart out of the piece of bread and carefully dropped it near the mouse, close enough for the rodent to smell or see it, but far enough away not to startle the little creature. "Ay, it's for you. Take it quickly little one before Brother Anslech returns. 'Tiss you he says is eating his precious scrolls; you and whatever family you might have. Go little one, or he may see fit to make of you an example to all like you who may frequent this abbey."
As if he understood the warning, the mouse edged his way to the piece of bread, grasped it in its mouth and scampered back the way it came. The young monk smiled and returned to his reading. He began all over again at the very start of [This message has been edited by Civis Romanus (edited 11-18-2003 @ 11:44 AM).]
The smell of burning wood was calming, even soothing, for Hisbold, a hardy stallion, standing tall, his brown body giving off a shine in the daylight. He lay in the tall grass, nibbling at it contently, happy to be left alone. Several other stallions roamed around in the field. The wind blew a calm gentle breeze, a relaxing feeling against his long neat mane.
He was quite happy to be left alone, except that he was to be trained more today, trained to be rode by his masters. He didn't mind, but it was, at first, quite unnerving to have something strapped across one's chest, and some item wrapped around one's face and put through one's mouth. It really was. He would probably get used to it, but he felt skitterish, uncertain about it.
Oh well, that was later. For now, he would contently nibble on the grass, relaxing where he was. He had no incentive to go anywhere or do anything yet. No one needed him to do something. He was simply free to do what he wanted for the time being.
The stables were not far from the field, just along a path, in a large set of barn yard buildings. That was where the metal shapes were put on hooves...that was where the others screamed in pain at searing metal pressed against the body, held down, helpless. But, Hisbold did not really understand all this, had never taken note of it, had never felt that pain. All he heard were some sounds. Even then, he wouldn't really understand what it was all about, it didn't concern him much.
So, he continued to lie in the grass, relaxing.
"Finished yet?" said Anslech to the young monk.
"Yes, Brother Anslech," said the young monk carefully beginning to roll up the illuminated parchment he was reading.
"Well?"
"Yes, Brother?"
"Did you find it?"
"Find what, Brother?"
Anslech shook his head. "Tsk, tsk, Aldric. Don't you ever listen? I asked that you look for clues about the missing relic in this text. Did you find any?" Anslech said this with a note of irritation buried deep in his tone of voice.
"Oh, the book found with St. Boniface, then lost or stolen."
"Yes, Aldric. That's right. The book."
"No, Brother Anslech. I saw no clues."
A look of disappointment crossed Anslech's face and disappeared as quickly as it came. "So the others have said too. Very sad."
"Why do you seek the book?"
"Because, Aldric, it is a relic of good St. Boniface, and it was supposed to be held here, in this very library, the place from which it was taken. It is the relic of this abbey and it was our responsibility to protect and preserve it. We failed; but I can assure you it was not because it was lost. It was stolen."
"Stolen? By whom?"
"Heathens from the north, from Friesland. They posed as penitents and pilgrims. As is our custom we gave them a night's lodging and board. They rewarded our generosity by making off with the saint's book, "The parchment I read said it was Friesians who murdered St. Boniface and his fifty or so companions." "Indeed it was, Aldric. Many among them, almost ten years later, still count it among their greatest victories. They are barbarians." These last words were said with great vigor and conviction. "Brother Anslech, remember that I, Aldric, am Friesien. Am I a barbarian?" Anslech started at these words. He had forgotten. He would have to say several prayers at vespers to obtain forgiveness for speaking so uncharitably. "No, Aldric, you are not; nor is every Frisian... Just most of them." Well, it's true, thought Anslech. He took a vow of honesty as well as charity. Anyway, he was getting too old to be saying too many long prayers on his knees on the hard, cold stones of the Abbey's church. Aldric sighed. "Yes, that is true, much as I would like it not to be." Aldric decided to change the subject. "Brother Anslech, how is the health of our abbot this day? Is he still unwell?" Anslech's face took on a worried expression. "The abbot seems to worsen over time, very slowly, but is doing so each week and month. It began with the loss of St. Boniface's book. It's been worsening ever since. If only we still retained the relic, then maybe we could ask Boniface to intercede on the abbot's behalf and extend his time with us. Yes, the relic..." Anslech's voice trailed away as he turned about to leave the library. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Oh, Aldric. Supper will be soon, but you have time for more reading. Select what you'd like from any shelf. Return it though please, to the exact place from which you took the parchment?" "Yes, Brother Anslech." "Thank you," said Anslech. Aldric watched Anslech leave the library and begin his slow descent on the spiral stone staircase. The young monk returned the St Boniface text to its place on the shelves and began to look for something else to read. Once more he noticed the small mouse as it reappeared following Anslech's departure. He readied a small piece of bread, but oddly, the mouse seemed for the moment to be occupied by something else rather than hunger. It was a small piece of parchment it carried in its miniscule teeth that it dropped at Aldric's feet. The creature then sat on its haunches as before waiting for Aldric to notice. [This message has been edited by Civis Romanus (edited 11-20-2003 @ 03:54 PM).]
The old man, still straight, pushed back the thin grey hair and signed himself, bowing slightly to the alter that formed the focus of the church. In the soft glow of the candles the Lord upon His Cross seemed to smile benevolently at the old abbot.
Engilbert didn't notice. His prayers had felt empty, his God far away. For months now he'd gradually felt his faith diminished. The reverence shown to him by the brothers and novices had started to grate, as he felt himself less, and less worthy of their respect.
How could they respect a man that God had forsaken?
Yet when he tried to explain they all denied it. To them he was the abbot that had ruled this abbey in God's name for more than a score of years, how could God not love him?
The abbot that ruled the abbey he'd lived for more than three score of years, ever since he'd been found abandonned on the doorstep of the church. He'd grown past the pain of that abandonment, but the loss of his God gnawed on him.
He knew he should lay down his task, offer the abbey to a better man, but none, not even the Prince Bishop would hear of it. Engilbert knew that God had retreated from him for it was his own fault the abbey's most precious relic had been stolen.
If only he could have prevented that theft.
If only...
Ignoring the young man following just behind him, his slow, hesitant steps took him out of the church.
Hisbold knew what to expect, for these people to hold him, put the saddle on his back, and strap it across his chest (he had got used to the feeling quite a bit). He was held there for a moment or two as the large leather placement was put on his back, and strapped across his chest. This time, however, he did not mind...it was for his masters. He was commanded by them to wear it, whether he liked it or not. Soon, the briddle was hooked into his mouth and roped around his face, which he felt strangely accustomed to too.
What he didn't expect so much was for one of the men to be hoisted on to his back, to grab the reigns and place their feet in the stirrups, and to control him. Rather skitterish, Hisbold was, at this. He soon calmed down...through the pulling of the reigns against his slight push forward. His head was pulled back a bit. He immediately obeyed, not fighting it. He had no choice...he was commanded to obey...
The mouse dropped down on all fours and backed up a step or two, but didn't run away as Aldric feared it might. Instead, as Aldric held his hand flat and open on the wood plank nearest the mouse, the creature inched forward cautiously, its snout twitching like before, until it felt confident enough to place its front paws on his outstretched fingers, and giving Aldric a tickling sensation, step boldly to the morsel of bread. It captured the morsel in its tiny jaws, turned and scampered back to its place in the walls of the library.
Aldric reached for and picked up the scrap of parchment. One side was blank. The other had writing on it in a language he had not seen since his arrival at the abbey. As a novitiate Aldric was compelled to learn two languages-French and Latin. The first was the everyday language of the abbey, the second was the language of worship and learning. Not until this scrap of parchment was brought to him by the mouse did Aldric see words in his native Frisian or hear anyone speak his language other than himself.
He studied the words on the parchment:
There the text ended. The death book? What death book? Aldric puzzled over the message. Why was it written in Frisian? He looked at the horizon once more and saw that the sun was nudging the horizon with its edge. He must hurry downstairs now. There will be prayers and supper. He musn't be late. Aldric hurriedly placed the parchment scrap into a pocket in his robe and walked towards the same spiral staircase previously used by Brother Anslech [This message has been edited by Civis Romanus (edited 11-20-2003 @ 03:54 PM).]
Abbot Engilbert looked out over the fields. Rain drops clinging to the leafs were struck by the rays of the sun. Light scattered from them as if each was a diamond set in green. It was obvious the Lord was still out there, for only His hand could have created the beauty of this morning in Spring. Only His hand could have coaxed the the flowers from where they'd been hiding all through winter. The bright yellow of the daffodils, the softer yellow of primrose and the palest pink of the apple blossom.
A tear blurred his vision briefly, and he raised his pale, slender hand to wipe it away. How could the Lord be so near and at the same time so far..?
"Father?"
Betram's soft voice broke through Engilbert's reverie. He turned, the soft light behind him briefly making his silver hair appear like a halo. The novice's breath caught as his heart went out to the old, frail man before him.
"Father, a messenger from the Prince Bishop has arrived."
They rode in a loose defensive formation, arms at hand, the lessons they had learned the hard way at the hands of bandits in the north would not be soon forgotten by those few of them who had survived. For even now only four rode slowly south and of them two severely wounded, where 12 had rode north to cover themselves and their families in glory and earn the Emperor’s recognition.
The time they had spend in the northern part of the empire was not a total waste for they had been able to visit the abbey of that most famous of Saints and Archbishops. They paid their respects and lit candles for the Saint at his own alter.
They had even been able to find the site of his most untimely murder by heathens.
But, soon after that the bandits began attacking in force time after time, finally harrying them from the area by sheer numbers.
As they rode to the south for home, Liudger was sure they would be welcome to stop and rest again at that small abbey.
It was going to break his heart to see the sorrowful look on the old abbot’s face. For he had nothing to report and no news at all of the quest the abbot had burdened him with so secretly that night.
"It is good you are not late today, Aldric," said Brother Anslech to his protege, as a kind of meaningful complement. Aldric drew the inference immediately. He had been late too often before. That was why he was in the vegetable garden that morning. Penance.
Aldric papered his face with a blank expression. "Why is that, Brother Anslech?"
"Because young novice, I must go downstairs to join the other members of the Abbey Council and hear from the Abbot the message from the Prince Bishop. Meanwhile, you may look after the library in my absence and read this text I have for you."
"Will you be long, Brother?"
"As short or as long as the Abbot decides is necessary, Aldric. Regardless, stay here until I call for you or take your place myself."
"Yes, Brother Anslech." The elderly librarian left the library and hurried to the Abbot's hall as fast as his aging legs could carry him.
The familiar scratching of tiny toed feet and a squeaky greeting from his friend floated above the silence of the library. Aldric looked down at the floor to see that the mouse had returned. In its mouth it held another piece of parchment. It sat on its haunches, its darkly colored eyes staring at the robed human towering above it though perched on a chair.
Aldric reached into his pocket and pulled out the bread. He again pinched off some of the white center and cautiously offered it to the mouse. The creature disappeared into its wall with the morsel of bread in its mouth and the piece of parchment left behind on the floor of the library. Aldric bent down and picked up the scrap of paper.
There was only one word on this piece of parchment, unlike the last. The word was [This message has been edited by Civis Romanus (edited 11-24-2003 @ 03:57 PM).]
For the person playing these tunes was quite a sight and a contradiction.
The cloths though worn, patched and grey were clean and obviously originally of a fine cut, the boots were of a horseman. But one leg was bent in such a way that it was obvious why this person sat here in the street playing tunes instead of being at work or war.
Many of the people who passed the player by dropped at least a small coin into the hat.
And still the cheerful tunes played on.
Finally when the sun had almost set, the player slowly and carefully packed up, then taking his sticks moved slowly down the street. Coming to a small alley opening he moved down it. He had no fear of being waylaid by the rogues that were about, as a matter of fact they were careful to avoid his path.
His sticks contained very sharp blades and the word had gotten around that this player was not worth bothering, unless one had no concern for ones own ongoing health.
Moving slowly and carefully the player finally reached an opening in the alley wall.
At first glance it looked like just another section of wooden wall.
Quietly he removed a key from a pouch, and after looking very carefully about for any who might try to observe him in that alley. He opened the concealed door and slipped thru. Closing it firmly behind him and making very sure it was locked again.
He found himself standing in a small ante room with a basin of steaming hot water.
He carefully stripped off and washed himself before donning the brown robe that was hanging waiting for him. He carefully adjusted his footwear and leaving everything else in that room, limped slowly and carefully from the room towards the chapel.
He arrived just as the Abbot was starting the service for Compline. He remained standing quietly in the rear of the chapel through the service as he had dispensation due to the nature of his injury.
After the service had ended the Abbot made his way to the quiet man in the rear. Well then Brother Grimald, I will let you go so you may copy and record your notes and thoughts to aid us in our searching. May the Lord Guide your hand, your eyes and your searching. [This message has been edited by TealWanderERII (edited 11-24-2003 @ 04:33 PM).]
Come Brother Grimald walk with me and tell me what news you have this day.
Well Brother Abbot he started, there is still much concern about the bandits in the north and if they are just bandits or if there is a more sinister meaning to these attacks.
There have been a large number of wounded young soldiers moving thru town to the south to be with their families. Some of these are confused and hurt and may be of help in our search. As I was hurt, and in search of a truth when you found and helped me to find the
I also have some notes that I will have to copy out into the ledger as I have not yet had time to look at them. I was almost late to service as it was.
Thank You Brother Abbot answered the quiet man humbly.
The quiet man then made his way first back to the ante room to recover his notes, then to the copy room to record as much as he could in the ledger before he had to go to the Matins Service.
Hatho's thoughts flew south to his youngest son Ratbodo. The young man, hell bent on proving himself as good as his older brother Focwald, had set off on a venture south into the lands held by Charlemange. The border these days was quiet, but Hatho knew the Southerners and their priests were bound to head North again. He wondered if Ratbodo's actions would give them the cause they needed.
Why His Superior should want these things, he did not know. But when the Holy Emperor asked one of his soldiers for such a small thing one did not say no.
Even if one was only an ex-soldier. Although he might wonder why such things were wanted when there was such easy access to the Abbott.
Grimald bent his head to his task again, wondering as he did if he would have a chance to pass his information on this night.
He then heard a mentioning of his name...he couldn't really understand, but he knew it was to do with him...
"Good Sir, could you please bring the stallion Hisbold out of stall 14?"
"Sir, right away, Sir."
Hisbold heard footsteps, and then the was a rattling as the door was unlocked and opened. A man, rather young, stepped in, unroped the rope, and led Hisbold out of the stall.
What Hisbold was about the find out was both shocking and disturbing...but it would simply be too late, as they tied him down...
"Neeeeeeeeiiiiiiigggggghhhhhhhhh!" came the scream from searing hot metal brandished against bare body...
"Later, novice. The Abbot has requested a delay in supper as there is pressing business he must discuss with the Council of Elders. Supper will be in two hours."
"Oh."
"Yes, at least you weren't late for it this day." The brother hurried on as Aldric winced at the implication. He did his best to shrug it off, but it annoyed him all of the way out of the Dining Hall doors and into the dimming light of the evening. Without realizing he had travelled so far, Aldric found himself near the abbey's stable and the remuda that kept the horses on the grounds. Two brothers were there talking about the day's work.
"Yes, we branded all of them. Most were easy; but that stallion... Did you see what the beast did to Brother Odbert? It got up on its legs, the beast did, and chased the brother all around the remuda. Never let him get near a fence. The question became who was herding who. I think if Hisbold had arms and hands instead of legs and hooves it would have been Brother Odbert who was branded this day." The two brothers laughed and then they walked away, one nodding to Aldric belatedly acknowledging the novice's presence.
Aldric walked to the wood fence forming the remuda in which the horses were allowed to roam free. He looked across the open ground at the horses still outside and not within the comforts of the stable. There was only one stallion amidst the group of three riding horses and a plow horse. It had to be Hisbold. Aldric placed his arms on the fence and rested them there as he stared at the horse. Magnificent creature. Strong flanks, high, erect head. Alert ears. And its eyes. There seemed to be some kind of knowing in its eyes. And something else.
Hisbold turned around. For the first time Aldric could see the darkened mark of the abbey on the horse's rear haunch. The creature began to walk in his direction with a deliberate gait, not too fast but not particularly slow. Then the horse paused about three paces away and stared. It's look did not convey trust. It conveyed something different.
Aldric had an idea. He ran to the nearby vegetable garden remembering a particular row of plants. He reached down and yanked a long stemmed carrot out of the ground and hurried back to the remuda. If Aldric had eyes in the back of his head he would have seen the stallion watching his every move. As it was, when he hurried back, he saw that Hisbold had not moved hardly a hoof.
Aldric brushed off loose dirt and then dipped the carrot into a trough of water to finish the job. The novice broke off the greens and offered the bright orange root to Hisbold. The stallion studied both the root and the offeror and decided to accept. A few steps of its hooves brought it to Aldric's proffered carrot. A sniff, a toss of the head, a cautious bite. The carrot disappeared into the horse's large toothed mouth inch by inch. As it consumed the carrot, Hisbold stepped that much closer to Aldric. The novice did not move nor drop his hand until the carrot was gone.
Hisbold crunched the last of the carrot and sent it on its way. Horse eyes stared at Aldric. The novice's glance did not waver. One more step and Hisbold's shoulder would be in reach of the novice's now empty hand. The horse made its decision and took that last step. It immediately felt the warm and gentle touch of a human hand on its shoulder. The hand patted and stroked. It felt kindly, reassuring, soothing, healing... With each pat or stroke, Hisbold felt the pain in his rear haunch diminish and fade away. That was good, he decided, so he stayed for more, tossing his head up and down, snorting once, but not moving away from the kind hand of the human standing where Hisbold's world ended and the human world began.
____________________________________________________________
Brother Abbot painfully rose from his rough hewn chair, larger and thicker than the others, but plainly built nonetheless. Around the table in smaller chairs equally plain sat the members of the Abbey Council of Elder Brothers. They waited patiently and courteously for the Abbot to speak.
"My brothers," he began. "I have received a message from the Prince Bishop. I have read its content and I share with you what it says. Judge for yourself its meaning and directives. Then we shall discuss what we are to do, if anything at all."
The gray-haired, stooped, aging members of the Council waited for Brother Engilbert to read to them the message.
[This message has been edited by Civis Romanus (edited 11-26-2003 @ 03:51 PM).]
So as any good troops would do they first took care of their horses, feeding and brushing them till they shone. Then they tended their weapons, sharpening, and cleaning, and they polished their ring mail shirts till they shone. They also washed themselves and their taberds in the running creek nearby, and of course the bandages of the wounded were checked and changed.
Finally it was time for their hard earned supper as they gathered around the fire. The talk as soldiers will quickly turned to thoughts of home, Strangely Liudger was quiet this night listening quietly as his friends talked of the joyful greetings that would await them with their families. For he was in truth worried about his own reception, he who had lead them so proudly away from home, to lose so many of them in the north. Such an awful burden on his soul and how would those families react.
So as the sunset finished setting in such a glorious display of colours. Liudger stood away from the fire, wishing his friends good night. After making sure that a night watch rotation was set, he made his way to his tent and after making sure his crossbow was loaded and cocked and close to hand. Liudger laid awake staring at the sky and thinking, wondering if he would be able to sleep this night.
Engilbert began to read, his once strong voice quavering.
"Salve
We, the Prince-Bishop of Stavelot-Malmedy here by express our severe displeasure at the loss of the priceless relic bestowed to your abbey. We expect you to retrieve the relic before the Michaelmas processions.
May god's peace be upon you."
His voice had dropped to a whisper.
"My brothers, I see no way to retrieve the relic and can do nothing but resign from the post of abbot."
Only Bertram heard the last words added to that statement.
"The Lord has truly forsaken me..."
"Brother Abbot," called out Anslech. "Brother Abbot, may I speak."
The abbot's weary, darkly pouched eyes found Anslech's face. The abbot nodded.
"Brother Abbot," began Anslech. "I do not see any reason for you to resign. Perhaps it is I who should resign as the sacred relic was stolen from my library."
Wearily, Engilbert sat down on his chair, the legs creaking from the strain of supporting his aged, careworn body. "Brother Anslech, that is unnecessary. We all understand how the relic came to be stolen. You have no culpability in the matter. Besides, what would the abbey be without you in the role of our librarian. The relic is but one book among many great works that we house and for which you are the caretaker. No, Brother. Your resignation would serve no useful purpose."
"Forgive my boldness in saying so, Brother Abbot; but neither would yours." Nods of agreement coming from the other members of the Council accompanied these words from Brother Engilbert. "We, the Council of Elder Brothers, will not accept your resignation should you try to submit it to us." Again, nods of agreement circled round the table.
"I see," said Brother Engilbert. "Then I shall leave it in God's hands to decide. This Council is ended for this day. Please see to your duties. I will send word to the galley to prepare to serve supper. Eat well, Brothers. I shall not be joining you this evening." Engilbert laboriously once again rose to his feet. Then he departed the council chambers leaving the brothers to look at each other and speak of their confusion at this parting words.
Bertram looked around the room and decided he should help as best he could to clear up the confusion. "Brothers, please. Perhaps Brother Abbot didn't tell you. He means to fast until the relic is returned. That is why he offered his resignation. He cannot be sure of his ability to be abbot and to fast such a very long time living only on bread and water."
Questions like "Is this true?" and "Can it be?" circulated around the room. Then came the realization. Brother Abbot is too old for such a thing. It very well might kill him. It would be in God's hands for sure just as he said.
The Brothers were exceedingly quiet at supper, far more quiet than at any time Aldric could remember. He stayed close to Brother Anslech to learn the reason why.
[This message has been edited by Civis Romanus (edited 12-01-2003 @ 04:18 PM).]
Hisbold lay in the grass, thinking deeply. The sun shone brightly, the warmth a gentle blanket on his face, the wind breezing calm and soothing.
Hisbold couldn't be understood by these people, there was no chance, except for one or two of them. The others just seemed intent on getting on him, on controlling him, giving him no choice. He had been uneasy, now getting used to such an experience. But, it would still take time. He knew they were probably doing it for his own good...or were they? He wasn't really sure. All he had heard lately was that he would make a fine warhorse or something...that he was...suited to strength and speed on the battlefield, and could be 'mated' with mares to strengthen the bloodline. He didn't understand, but he was sure it would involve that thing on his back and those things in his mouth...
Lately, he had also noticed people were more frantic about that stone building. Horses had come and gone, very obedient to their masters...Hisbold wondered if that would be him one day...
He then remembered that the people held something sacred in that building, and that they had been talking about it all the while, panicing, worrying. He couldn't help notice it at all...it was all around him. Then it occured to him that he...might...he might be needed to help. Once again, those masters of his, intent about
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When the sounds of hooves from the roadway drew their attention also hands edged near to weapons. As the rider came in sight it was obvious that this was a messenger on a mission. When the messenger had approached to within speaking distance Liudger hailed them asking, do you have any news of the road the way you came. Stop a moment to rest and have something hot for your ride ahead.
Thank you soldier, a quick break for something hot to break my fast would not be a problem and as far as the road it is clear to the abbey, but that is all I know, for a message to the Abbot is what I carried this time.
Liudger asked as casually as he could, could you tell us if it was an important message Good Sir.
Well the messenger answered slowly, I was waiting for a reply while the Old Abbot read the message. And he was quite shocked by what he read, before he dismissed me for the night, his face was strained and white and his eyes were wet. When I left this morning the abbey was in chaos and the brothers seemed in shock and scared.
Liudger was pleased to be able tell the messenger that the road was clear to the north, to wish him a pleasant and quick journey. Mentioning that they were on leave from the north country and travelling home to see their families again.
As the messenger resumed his journey, the men looked at each other, not one of them wanting to say what they were thinking. Finally someone said, well shall we stay here another night or two before imposing ourselves on the abbey. It seems that they have troubles of their own. After some discussion it was decide that they would rest another day or so in this quiet spot. It would give them and their mounts some needed time to rest and tend to their equipment.
[This message has been edited by TealWanderERII (edited 12-03-2003 @ 04:17 AM).]
"It really isn't a matter for a novice, Aldric," said Anslech.
"But Brother Anslech, how shall I learn the ways of the Abbey any better than to learn the thinking of the Council through one of its foremost members."
Anslech looked at the youth, a question in his glance. "I think you are flattering me, Aldric." But the comment had the effect Aldric wanted, and Anslech told Aldric about the message read by the Abbot and the things that followed.
"He is much too old for such a fast, isn't he, Brother?"
"We think so, Aldric."
"But his health might fail and he would be lost to us."
"Yes. In fact his health is not great and his constitution is not what it once was. We think that it "Then I think it's time to show this to you." Aldric reached into the interior pocket of his robe and pulled out the two scraps of parchment. He gave the scraps to Brother Anslech. "What might this refer to?" asked Aldric. "It's in Frisian. I don't know." "Oh, sorry. Let me read it to you." Aldric did so. Anslech looked at the youth once more, his eyes taking on a different, thoughtful expression. "When did you find these?" "Over the course of the last two days, here in the library. What do you make of this, please?" "There is only one book of death ever in this library, Aldric: The book of St. Boniface. That this message is in Frisian is very important. Only those who stole the book could have left it here. This is not your handwriting. I would know your handwriting anywhere. It must be them. It must be where the Frisian thieves took the relic!" Despite his age, Anslech fairly leapt to his feet. I must take this to the Abbot and speak to the council. This is monumental news. My boy! Thank you!" Anslech hurried from the room. Aldric was pleased with himself, so pleased he saw no reason not to forgive himself the reading he had set out to do. Instead, he walked to the wall from which the mouse frequently emerged in the past and found the hole into which the dark eyed, gray coated creature disappeared each occasion after they met. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a portion of bread and placed it on the floor for the mouse to find if it should ever return. "Well, little friend. Brother Anslech thanked me for those little gifts from you. 'Tis you who he should thank, so in his place I will do so. Here is a token of my appreciation and thanks, little friend." After Aldric had departed the library, a small, sharp, pointed little whiskered nose poked its way outside of the hole in the wall and gently seized the bread, and then disappeared back into the place from where it appeared. As the mouse made its way into the crevice between the wall that served as the place for its nest, it briefly disturbed another small piece of parchment that looked just like the scraps Aldric gave to Anslech. On this scrap of parchment there also was writing in Frisian. But this scrap of parchment would not see the light of day, not today, and possibly not ever.
He lay in the stall, saddled and briddled. He had the feeling he was going to be rode sometime today, perhaps for a little while. It was 'different' to stand there like that, wearing such things, being used in such a way. He just waited and waited, waited for someone to come and take his body out of his control...
He then remembered that one man...who had given him the carrot. Such a friendly person, he didn't mean any harm. He had a warm touch, a gentle one at that. Hisbold was curious about this man. He felt he should go explore this man, but again, it was not his decision. Perhaps he should be lucky enough to meet them again, and get better aquainted? He hoped so...such a good person, he could tell, someone devoted to peace and freedom, someone who didn't look to impressed by that...hot thing, whatever it was. Well, to put it correctly, it wasn't simply 'hot.' It was a nightmare. But, that was over now...but it seemed that he was now more or less 'owned' too, that the mark was some kind of seal of ownership...which Hisbold kind of didn't like all too much...
Aldric appeared about thirty minutes later and walked towards the Abbot with his head bowed and eyes focussed downwards in respect. He had never been called to the Abbot's side for an audience since the very first day of his novitiate in the abbey. He was apprehensive and very nervous.
"Sit there, young Aldric, beside Brother Anslech. I wish to talk to you about the parchment scraps."
"Yes, Brother Abbot. As you wish." Aldric sat down in a nearby, handcarved chair. "What may I tell you."
"How you came to have these parchment scraps, first of all. Tell me everything from the very beginning."
Aldric did as he was told, retelling the story of his encounters with the mouse and location of the little creature's hidey hole. The old abbot took particular note of Aldric's gentle relationship with the mouse, interrupting him once in his story to comment. "You remind me of another such man who had, they say, a way with creatures. Francis was his name." The Abbot shook his head. "I'm sorry for the interruption. Please continue." Aldric blinked and continued. Finally, his story ended, Aldric lapsed into silence. He waited for the next question the Abbot would think to ask him.
To Aldric's surprise, there was no next quextion. The Abbot turned to Anslech and just as if there were unspoken communication, both men looked at each other for a brief moment before Anslech nodded his head and turned his eyes towards Aldric. "Come with me, Aldric," said Anslech to his protege.
The impetuousness of youth is very difficult to contain, as is its curiousity. Aldric forgot himself and spoke without permission. "Brother Abbot, what will you do with this information?"
Anslech frowned deeply. Engilbert cast an amused look in Aldric's direction but spoke only to Anslech. "A good question, Brother Anslech, don't you think?" There was a light touch of teasing on the very edge of Engilbert's words.
Brother Anslech continued to frown and answered, "Asked without permission, but good nonetheless." Aldric's cheeks turned somewhat pink with embarrassment. He lowered his eyes. The point struck home.
Engilbert continued, the hint of a twinkle in his eyes. "It seems that we may be obligated to mount an expedition of discovery to the north. Perhaps we may recover our relic in that direction based upon what our friend in the library gave us. What do you think about that, Aldric?"
Aldric kept his eyes cast down. "As Brother Abbot directs, but won't the brothers of the Abbey have difficulty as a result of dress, hair and language in Friesland?"
The Abbot nodded gravely. "Yes, Aldric. You have keenly seen a problem. The brothers would indeed be very noticeable, but not a certain novice I know."
"A novice? Which novice? I mean there is only myself who..." Aldric again forgot himself and looked right at Brother Engilbert as he voiced his unfettered thought. "...is not a brother and can speak the language." The Abbot's intent suddenly dawned on Aldric. The youth stopped speaking immediately, gulped, and again cast his eyes to the ground.
The Abbot spoke to Anslech. "See to the preparations, Brother Anslech. Report to me later today on your progress. There are others who must be collected for this purpose. You know about whom I speak."
Anslech slowly rose and bent his own aged body in a bow of acknowledgement. "Yes, Brother Abbot. I know who you mean. Follow me, Aldric."
The novice rose and also bowed in the Abbot's direction. Then Aldric departed Engilbert's chamber closely following Anslech. The novice was permitted to go about his business but to stay in calling distance, so Anslech instructed. Aldric decided the abbey stable was within the proper distance and he headed there, stopping briefly to extract a ripe carrot.
The stallion slowly walked towards the young human standing by the wooden railing holding a delectable orange object in his hand, a well remembered treat to the horse. There was very little hesitation this time as Hisbold sought to make quick work of Aldric's offered carrot. The horse even agreed to stay in place as the human patted his front shoulder and made odd noises directed Hisbold's way.
"And that's what happened just moments ago, Hisbold. I can say I was quite surprised. You would have been too if you were me. Well, the truth is, I don't know what will happen next. There'll be others, the Abbot said; but I don't know who these others will be. Do you think it foolish of me to say something about the parchment?"
A small insect buzzed into Hisbold's ear. The horse shook its head to encourage the insect to leave. The human began to make odd noises again. "I guess you think it wasn't foolish," said Aldric. "That's good, because I think you have more sense in you than I do." The insect refused to leave, so Hisbold changed his tactics and shook his head up and down. The discouraged gnat finally flew away. "I thought as much," confirmed Aldric. "Well, I must be off." Aldric glanced down and noticed the new iron shoes on the horse. "Hope they're comfortable for you." He glanced at his own leather sandals. "Where I'm going, I wish mine were iron too." Aldric patted the horse one more time, turned and began to walk away from the corral and towards the abbey.
Hisbold watched as the human turned and began to walk away. He stepped towards the wood railings surrounding the corral and stopped at the very place where the railings made it impossible for him to go farther. He swished his tail back and forth and then he did something he had not done before with any human. He whinnied. The human hesitated, stopped, turned, and then waved. Then the human resumed his walk towards the big stone boulder with spots of light that the humans seemed to enter and leave, just like ants on the plains enter and leave their nests.
As almost all the people were busy in the stone building it was Hisbold who first heard the sounds in the distance, he moved to the fence and looked and listened intently. His behaviour was noted by one of the ones who tended them. Brother Odbert came to the fence asking, what is wrong now you silly animal, there is nothing over there.
The brother was very careful not to get to close to the fence or the horse. Hisbold watched this brother very carefully from the corner of his eye. He had not forgotten or forgiven the other day or what had happened, he also knew what the others did not, that Odbert had not escaped him that day in the pasture, but rather he had gotten bored of the game.
Also he had heard that the Brother was on stable duty for a long time as punishment for some offence. While he did not understand this punishment thing was, he did know that the Brother was in even worse of a temper then he usually was.
Finally Hisbold got the smell of horses and whickered a welcome, for he knew these horses, they had passed thru a long time ago heading for this place they called the north.
As Liudger lead the troop towards the stable of the Abbey he heard the massive stallion in the field calling a welcome. At last one of the brothers from the stable came forward saying, Welcome to the abbey soldiers and "Peace Be With You".
My name is Brother Odbert and I will take your horses for you, The Abbot has left orders that all guests are to be taken to him immediately upon arrival.
Liudger replied, saying we will care for our horses ourselves thank you, and as I can hear that the service is still in progress we will not be able to see the abbot for a time anyway.
As Odbert tried to insist, Liudger let his hand slid down towards his weapon while glaring at the brother. You do not understand, We will care for our own animals, Thank You. Brother Odbert was forced to move quickly as one of the horses started to try to nip him, before being reigned in by his rider.
Liudger lead the way to the stable where he and his men first unsaddled their horses then cleaned and brushed them before feeding them and turning them lose in the next pasture to the big stallion.
Finally he turned to Brother Odbert. Now you can take us to the Abbot that we might make our presence know to him. Walking to the abbey Liudger looked back at the field where it almost seemed that the horses were talking among themselves. Shaking his head at such a flight of fantasy, he allowed himself to be lead into the abbey and an audience he would really rather not face.
Hisbold watched as these horses came closer and saw things that shocked him. Those proud and spirited horses that had left here to go north were strangely different now. They moved with a reserve and determination now instead of with the spirit they left with, and most bore many scars as well. Yet he was shocked the most by their behaviour as they were unsaddled, for they seemed to have a common bond with these humans now.
There was something that he couldn’t understand, but it seemed that they were partners equals with these humans and were treated with respect and affection as well.
Hisbold knew he had more to think about this night and moved toward the new arrivals calling a welcome.
As Grimald limped quickly thru the city to the court he wondered at all the messages that seemed to be going out lately, It seemed that if it wasn’t about that little abbey in remacle he was hearing about, it was about bandits and heathens in the north. Both sounded like they were serious situations but he couldn’t figure out what was so important about such a small abbey so far to the south.
"You have not failed. You have simply not yet succeeded. Sit please. You have travelled a great distance and must be tired."
Indeed, Liudger was tired, both physically and in spirit. On the other hand, to Liudger's mind, Engilbert looked far more tired, more careworn, more physically reduced than on the day Liudger departed for the northeast. Yet Engilbert's eyes reflected a new level of enthusiasm, a special spark of life Liudger had not seen before. The soldier found a chair, sat down and waited patiently for the words of the Abbot.
"New information has come to light that suggests the Frisians who stole the book took it north to Dokkum.
"Dokkum! We did not venture there. We feared an incident. Our orders from the Prince were to do all that was necessary to find the relic but to not cause an incident. We dared not enter Friesland so blatantly due to this order."
"Wisely directed by the Prince, I think," observed Engilbert. "So none of you are known to the Frisians of Dokkum?"
"No, Brother Abbot."
"Good. Then I think I would like to suggest to you something in the way of a plan that might gain you access and an opportunity to seek the relic in Dokkum."
The abbot laid before Liudger Aldric's parchment scraps. "With our Frisian novice at your side, I think you can pass yourselves off as merchants and access Dokkum in a way soldiers of Charlemagne could not."
"But he is Frisian. Can we trust him?" Liudger regretted saying these words the very second they left his mouth.
Abbot Engilbert stared at him and spoke plainly in response. "He has taken the vows of a novice. Those vows include obediance and faithfulness. Taken before God, they should bind the novice to Him such that you have no need to ask that question."
Liudger bowed his head. "I spoke hastily, Brother. Forgive me."
"It was the journey speaking, Liudger, not your heart. There is nothing that needs to be forgiven. Now, as to this new mission. A few day's rest for you, your men and your mounts, re-provisioning, and you should be ready to travel-yourself and the novice only."
"Myself and the novice only?! Brother Abbot, how can we defend ourselves or should we find the book, obtain it without the help of my men!"
"Liudger, if it is meant for this abbey to have the relic of St. Boniface, God will see to its delivery to you. You have only to be in the place where it is to occur. Take too many men with you and those who are to deliver it will fear you and thwart God's plan. No, two is enough. If more are needed, you will find them along the way with His help."
"But Brother, I..."
"God will provide, Liudger. I firmly believe this."
Liudger could find no words suitable for challenging the belief of the Abbot, nor could Liudger find the will to oppose this holy man. He rose and bowed, then made his way out into the stone-walled corridor. Wearily he leaned with one hand on the opposite wall and gently placed his forehead on the cold stone. Then he turned his body about until his back was flush against the wall. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, in part to ease his exhaustion and in part to calm his frustration. When he opened them again, a young lad, a novice, stood before him.
"Sir, are you well? Should I have the infirmary Brother see to you? Sir? Do you hear me?"
Liudger sighed. "What is your name, lad?
"Aldric, Sir. I am a novice."
"Aldric is it? Are you Frisian?"
"Yes, but a novice here."
"Then, my young Frisian novice, you and I shall have a great many hours to learn about each other in the days ahead. And before this quest is done, we both may have need of the Infirmary." So saying, Liudger pushed himself away from the wall and began to walk to the place where his men were housed leaving the puzzled novice standing mutely in his wake.
[This message has been edited by Civis Romanus (edited 12-29-2003 @ 03:52 PM).]
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