letters.”
“Good. And, this is also important: Once Sarah is here, and living with us, you have to promise me something.”
“What?”
“You will not be in a room alone with her under any circumstances.”
Landos brushed his hand through his hair and looked over to the window. He wanted to be an honorable man. But more than that, he wanted to be known as an honorable man. He had secretly hoped, in his darkest dreams, that he would end up alone with Sarah when she was living at Hartstone. He had hoped they would often be alone together, and that their love would grow stronger. And that maybe, one day, they would run off together.
But he knew Vye was right. He had come to her for guidance because he knew she wouldn’t abide any secret dreams. If he was serious about being an honorable man, he would have to avoid Sarah.
“Right,” Landos said. “I will not be alone with her for any reason.”
“Good,” Vye said. “I’m proud of you.”
“I’m terrified.”
“Of what?”
“Of having to live up to that promise.”
“Don’t worry,” Vye said. “I know you. You keep promises.”
Chapter 12: Bad Poetry
“Look at this,” Thor said, handing a book to Jareld. He and Thor had spent almost every waking hour for the past three days in the library of Hartstone.
“What is it?” Jareld said, looking over the volume Thor had just handed him. “Look at how they write the, ‘R.’ Looks like an ‘F.’” Thor commented.
Jareld was only mildly amused by this revelation. Calligraphy had changed drastically in the centuries of written text. Certainly, the evolution of the current, “R” was not very exciting. The journal that Thor had been leafing through was the account of a minor noble in Avonshire, the largest Duchy in the Kingdom. On this particular page, he described the events of King James II’s wedding.
For his wedding, King James II commissioned his flagship, the Saint Alexander to sail at dusk. When they were the requisite distance, the Captain of the ship performed the ceremony, and everyone rejoiced. Then, the boat sailed to the Island of Milos. Everyone disembarked and danced on the beach.
When the night really wore on, there was the giving of gifts. The King had a special gift for his new wife. It was an embroidered poem, the poem that he had read when they first met, that had made them fall in love. It was their favorite poem, written in Atinlay, and--
“Quick,” Jareld called to Thor, “Let me see the inscription!”
“It’s all the way in Arwall,” Thor replied, stunned at the incongruous request.
“I mean,” Jareld said, narrowing his eyes at Thor, “Our transcription of it.”
Thor shuffled through his bag until he produced the small book in which Jareld had copied Dorn’s inscription. Jareld was amazed to find, in the journal of the minor noble, a detailed reproduction of the embroidered poem. Jareld matched the poem in the journal with the inscription from Sir Dorn.
“Look at this,” Jareld said, “It’s the same poem.”
“It’s not that rare a poem,” Thor said.
“But look at the spelling of the word, ‘terrases.’”
Indeed, as it was written, it seemed that James II had misspelled the word in much the same way that Dorn miswrote it.
"You think Sir Dorn hoped we, or someone, would find this clue?” Thor asked. Jareld decided, at that moment, to keep track of the times that Thor had a good point. One.
“Well,” Jareld said. “Wait a minute. This is an embroidering. It says here the Queen left it on the Island of Milos, and everybody knew about it. She hung it on a tree, and insisted that the King would bring her to it on each of their anniversaries. This is only an obscure clue to us, a hundred years later. If someone had found Sir Dorn’s inscription sooner after the death of King James, this wouldn’t be an issue.”
“It still sounds like a long shot,” Thor said. “That Sir Dorn left a trail of breadcrumbs so
“Good. And, this is also important: Once Sarah is here, and living with us, you have to promise me something.”
“What?”
“You will not be in a room alone with her under any circumstances.”
Landos brushed his hand through his hair and looked over to the window. He wanted to be an honorable man. But more than that, he wanted to be known as an honorable man. He had secretly hoped, in his darkest dreams, that he would end up alone with Sarah when she was living at Hartstone. He had hoped they would often be alone together, and that their love would grow stronger. And that maybe, one day, they would run off together.
But he knew Vye was right. He had come to her for guidance because he knew she wouldn’t abide any secret dreams. If he was serious about being an honorable man, he would have to avoid Sarah.
“Right,” Landos said. “I will not be alone with her for any reason.”
“Good,” Vye said. “I’m proud of you.”
“I’m terrified.”
“Of what?”
“Of having to live up to that promise.”
“Don’t worry,” Vye said. “I know you. You keep promises.”
Chapter 12: Bad Poetry
“Look at this,” Thor said, handing a book to Jareld. He and Thor had spent almost every waking hour for the past three days in the library of Hartstone.
“What is it?” Jareld said, looking over the volume Thor had just handed him. “Look at how they write the, ‘R.’ Looks like an ‘F.’” Thor commented.
Jareld was only mildly amused by this revelation. Calligraphy had changed drastically in the centuries of written text. Certainly, the evolution of the current, “R” was not very exciting. The journal that Thor had been leafing through was the account of a minor noble in Avonshire, the largest Duchy in the Kingdom. On this particular page, he described the events of King James II’s wedding.
For his wedding, King James II commissioned his flagship, the Saint Alexander to sail at dusk. When they were the requisite distance, the Captain of the ship performed the ceremony, and everyone rejoiced. Then, the boat sailed to the Island of Milos. Everyone disembarked and danced on the beach.
When the night really wore on, there was the giving of gifts. The King had a special gift for his new wife. It was an embroidered poem, the poem that he had read when they first met, that had made them fall in love. It was their favorite poem, written in Atinlay, and--
“Quick,” Jareld called to Thor, “Let me see the inscription!”
“It’s all the way in Arwall,” Thor replied, stunned at the incongruous request.
“I mean,” Jareld said, narrowing his eyes at Thor, “Our transcription of it.”
Thor shuffled through his bag until he produced the small book in which Jareld had copied Dorn’s inscription. Jareld was amazed to find, in the journal of the minor noble, a detailed reproduction of the embroidered poem. Jareld matched the poem in the journal with the inscription from Sir Dorn.
“Look at this,” Jareld said, “It’s the same poem.”
“It’s not that rare a poem,” Thor said.
“But look at the spelling of the word, ‘terrases.’”
Indeed, as it was written, it seemed that James II had misspelled the word in much the same way that Dorn miswrote it.
"You think Sir Dorn hoped we, or someone, would find this clue?” Thor asked. Jareld decided, at that moment, to keep track of the times that Thor had a good point. One.
“Well,” Jareld said. “Wait a minute. This is an embroidering. It says here the Queen left it on the Island of Milos, and everybody knew about it. She hung it on a tree, and insisted that the King would bring her to it on each of their anniversaries. This is only an obscure clue to us, a hundred years later. If someone had found Sir Dorn’s inscription sooner after the death of King James, this wouldn’t be an issue.”
“It still sounds like a long shot,” Thor said. “That Sir Dorn left a trail of breadcrumbs so
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