The Codex Lacrimae, Part 1: The Mariner's Daughter and Doomed Knight

Chapter 8: A Knight in the Scriptorium

The two ravens' wingspans filled the room. The cawing and screeching of the birds disrupted the quiet cloister air and plumage fluttered everywhere.

The boy dove under a table to dodge the madly beating pinions, but he stopped short when an almost total silence ensued once he passed out of sight of the birds.

Stillness fell hushed on the chamber, as complete and absolute as the madness that preceded it.

Then, almost magically, a whistling and twittering that reminded Jacob of music replaced the avian screams. He peered cautiously over the edge of the table, wondering what what had caused the change.

Ríg stood completely still, his arm still upraised protectively across his face. One of the ravens perched on his shoulder and the other on the table before him. The youth's legs shook from the strain of standing upright under the gigantic bird; its talons reached around the young man's upraised arm and upper part of his back.

The ravens' singsong vocalizations were steady, melodiously in harmony as if one bird continued a tune when its brother trailed off. Ríg moved only his eyes, remaining calm even as the pressure of the now-friendly raven on his shoulder threatened to drive him to his knees.

Both ravens ceased their sweet-sounding warbling and cocked heads to sides as if listening to a command. They then erupted away with surprising speed, the action throwing Ríg backwards against the cabinetry.

Ríg scrambled upward and rushed to the window; the glassware clinked precariously in the leather bag still over his shoulder.

He watched the birds swoop low over the southern ramparts of the castle and then gain momentum as they caught a current that sped them high into the sky.

"They were beautiful," Jacob came to stand beside Ríg. "They're not messenger birds, are they?"

"Good Lord, no." Ríg noticed two riders on the southern escarpment, one of whom loosed an arrow at the ravens. The projectile flew through the air, but missed its target, and then both birds were gone. Besides feeling irritation at the unprovoked attack, Ríg wondered what the ravens were doing, and why the two Hospitallers were straying so far from normal patrol routes. "Rather large for ravens, weren't they?"

Something odd was happening on the horizon. A cloud of dust was roiling across the Syrian plain, a seeming sandstorm in the making. Ríg looked again at the two men on horseback and, in spite of their apparent Hospitaller garb, a feeling of dread swept through him. He instinctively knew that they weren't his brethren.

"Advance scouts, with an army behind them," he said, turning quickly from the window.

"Yes, Master Khaldun has already let the guards and your preceptor know," Jacob said, "but there are really two armies coming."

"What?"

"That one from the south, but there's another coming from the east, too."

"Indeed?" Ríg returned to the table and laid the satchels on top of it, his face thoughtful. "No trip back to the infirmary now, I guess-need to find out what Arcadian wants to do. Your news changes things, Jacob-we've got to hurry."

Ríg pulled a silken cord that hung near the entryway. A bell tinkled somewhere in the farther part of the library.

Within a moment, a brown-robed monk appeared in the doorway.

"Ah, Demetrius," Ríg said, carefully extending the bags to the man. His dark suntan highlighted the crown of white hair on his bald head and the deep wrinkles in his aged face. "We've got an emergency, and I need your help because I can't be in two places at once. These are medicines for the expedition members in the infirmary. If Master Khaldun is there, could you also tell him that I'll be heading to Father Arcadian's chambers?"