The Codex Lacrimae by A.J. Carlisle Page B

Lacrimae.”
    â€œClarinda?” Genevieve’s voice broke the silence that followed the woman’s last statement. Clarinda knew her friend stood near the western portals, but stayed focused on the stranger.
    â€œWe are Urd, Clarinda. Tu ed io, ora e per sempre . You and I, now and forever.” The woman clasped the merchant daughter’s hands tightly. “Be brave. Follow your plan and get to Caesarea. During your journey, we shall meet again. My sisters and I – le nostre sorelle — our sisters, we’ll train and prepare you along the way.”
    Clarinda looked at her left hand. A broad, silver brooch rested there. Serpentine runes flowed in an intaglio around the circular base, the complex design resting beneath four curved triangles that made the entire piece look like a cross. Within each of the four triangles, three unified arcs pointed inward toward the green onyx stone in the brooch’s center.
    Urd nodded at the piece of jewelry. “Pin it to your cloak, and keep it with you always.”
    â€œI’ve seen these designs before, the connected arcs...,” Clarinda murmured, then made the connection: “The Northmen. They wear these on their belt buckles and cloak pins.”
    â€œThe three arcs are triquerta , and they have special meaning for the Norns. I think that you and your Hospitaller will find an…unexpected use for their trajectories, but we shall see.”
    The woman took the brooch back briefly, frowned at the embroidered dress Clarinda wore, and then fastened the brooch to the fabric at the Venetian girl’s hip. “That will have to do for now, at least until you’re traveling again and wearing a cloak.”
    Urd looked at the girl thoughtfully. “Be wary of Servius Aurelius Santini, Clarinda.”
    Clarinda started. “Why? He died at the Battle of Mecina — everyone knows that.”
    The Norn shook her head. “No, he’s alive. He’s the second, black-robed Hospitaller knight in your vision of Mimir’s Well.”
    â€œWhat?” Clarinda exclaimed. Disappointment vied with anger as romantic hopes from a month of fantasizing seemed to burst into flames within her. “That’s impossible! Saladin killed him, and he was much, much older than the boy I’ve seen. The Santini of Mecina was a madman, a killer so afraid to show his true face that they called him the Hooded Hospitaller!”
    Urd shrugged. “Believe what you will. Your Hospitaller at Mimir’s Well is Santini.” Urd paused. “Walk with me, sister.”
    Clarinda let herself be taken arm in arm with Urd and they walked southward toward the great imperial door and narthex beyond.
    She knew that the Stratioticus family would be waiting outside the entrance to the basilica, but her thoughts were on fire. Of all the possible identities she’d imagined for her heroic knight by the pool, the possibility that he might be Servius Aurelius Santini never occurred to her. Why should it? The man was more myth than anything else, a knight in a strange land battling in religious wars that held no interest for Clarinda — as far as the Holy Land was concerned, she and her father just needed safe ports in the Levant to dock their ships.
    The Norn seemed to hear her thoughts and spoke quietly to her as they walked past gigantic mosaics of past emperors and empresses, whose tiny tesserae glass and stone tiles glinted in a multitude of colors from the torch light.
    â€œI know what you’re thinking, and you’ll find that it’s that very feeling of disbelief which has kept him alive in the crusader lands these past five years,” Urd continued. “Trusting that no one would believe he survived Mecina, Santini’s protectors have hid the youth in plain sight from the vengeance of Saladin’s armies and agents. Also, remember this: Aurelius is far younger than anyone expects, and none in this generation of men