The Seer and the Scribe by G.M. Dyrek Page B

tree. His mind wandered back to Hildegard’s words and now agreed that people’s minds do create their own realities. The world is so much more than what he could experience.
    After Terce, he’d looked in on Sophie and found her clearly agitated by an apparent encounter with Saint Peter. He had listened and concluded with her that she had seen a man, not the revered Saint, who had used the secret tunnel behind the altar. Her description could describe any one of the seventy monks at the monastery and that didn’t include the fifty-odd male attendants that worked at the monastery and lived in Staudernheim. The conversation fascinated Sophie and lifted her spirits. She had spoken animatedly of other secret passages she’d seen in various churches she and her Grandfather had visited. She’d also given him the message from Hildegard.
    In it, Volmar had read what he already had heard from gossip amongst the brothers. Jutta’s mother had fallen ill, and their party had to return to Sponheim immediately. However, it was gratifying to read that Hildegard regretted having to leave him without saying goodbye. She had also enclosed a secret code, a message only he could read. It ended up being an alphabet. Hildegard wrote that they could use it to communicate about Brother Arnoul, in a way no one else would be able to decipher. Volmar had folded it away and kept this secret even from Sophie.
    In the clearing, Volmar held his oil lamp high into the air. Its light danced back and forth in the restless chilly wind. It was an unusual gray twilight, caused by the reflection of the moon on the barks of the trees surrounding him. “Brother Arnoul, I didn’t find the book in our library,” Volmar said aloud, listening for a moment to any reply from the spiritual world. “Our Librarian,” he went on, “Brother Cormac, remembers you and Judas, and is convinced that your murderer left the monastery for Rome. I am not so sure. I sense that the Devil is stillafoot within the monastery’s walls.” He paused, kicking at the rocks at his feet, trying to piece together all the known facts. “We’re making progress, though. Sophie met a man returning to the monastery late, using your secret tunnel. Hildegard and I had taken his lantern from the tunnel and he could not change back into his robes.”
    Volmar touched the back of his neck. Was it the cold presence of a dead monk or merely a chilled wind? He went on. It was indeed difficult to address someone he could not see. “There is no monk in the Benedictine order here at Disibodenberg who goes by the name of Judas. Perhaps, Cormac has it right and he has left for another monastery. However, I do not think so. I am suspicious that someone still uses the secret tunnel to come and go as they please.” He paused and concluded, “Brother Arnoul, I will not give up until justice is served and your good name is restored.”

CHAPTER 13: BLACKBIRDS
    Cemetery Near St. Michael’s Chapel
    21 st of October, Saturday morning, shortly after day-break, the Year of Our Lord 1111
    There were blackbirds everywhere. Their strong beaks pecked hungrily in the fallow fields surrounding the cemetery. One blackbird, set apart from the others, stood guard as it watched over the burial proceedings from the stone steeple of Saint Michael’s Chapel.
    A watery sun shone fitfully through the gathering rain clouds. A cold, weak light streamed down on a small group as they stood around the grave. Hot tears streamed down Sophie’s cheeks. Behind her stood Thomas, who had surprisingly put down his tools and crossed the pasture to attend the ceremony, without saying a word. Volmar and Brother Paulus stood on either side of her like great stone pillars. There was no money to afford a coffin. Her grandfather’s body was wrapped in a simple shroud. Several monks stood across from her and sang a tuneless psalm as the body was lowered into