Prologue
In occulto vivunt.
The black ink sank into the parchment so that the full stop at the end of the sentence began to run. The scribe hurriedly blotted the ink, and then leaned back and closed his eyes.
They live in hiding.
The bare room in which he was sitting was scarcely lit by a few meagre candles. Everything was suffused with a deep stillness, save for the shadows of the flickering can
