The Mongoliad: Book Two (The Foreworld Saga) Read Online Free PDF

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    “The legate needs you,” Sir John said quietly, starting Raphael from the horrible reverie into which he had fallen. “He wants the hero of the tower to give credence to this prophecy.”
    “Do not let the legate sway you,” Calpurnius said, his voice cutting through Raphael’s confusion. “He is a small-minded man who will never amount to more than the bite of a gnat.” He made a flicking motion with two fingers, brushing something so small as to be invisible from his surcoat. “Your vows are not to the Church or the man who says he speaks for the Church. You swore to protect your brothers and to protect the spirit of the Virgin. Nothing else matters.”
    Raphael rested his fingertips against his forehead. “This is—” he began.
    Calpurnius put his hands on Raphael’s shoulders. “Remember your vows,” he reiterated, looking the young man straight in the eye.
    “Nothing else matters,” Raphael echoed, trying to let go of the panic twisting in his gut. “Aye.”
    “This will not be an easy thing. The legate will insist,” Sir John said. “And he may threaten you. And he may...” He trailed off, unwilling to give credence to his suspicions.
    Raphael nodded, realizing what he was being volunteered for. “Aye,” he said, his voice weakening. “I will not falter. I will protect my brothers.”

Verna, 1224
    The young knight’s thoughts continued to trouble him, and as it became clear that Raphael was uncomfortable being surrounded by the other monks, Brother Leo encouraged the young man to follow him. Once they had left the oratory, Brother Leo led Raphael along the path that trundled past the hermitage. The route took them into the shadows of tall rocks where tiny pools of water moistened fringes of pale lichens. The monk showed Raphael were to step so as to steer clear of a pair of empty bird nests—used this last spring, but empty now as the chicks had all grown strong enough to fly on their own. Eventually they came to the narrow footbridge that crossed a yawning gap in the mountain.
    Brother Leo laid his hand on Raphael’s shoulder. “You have seen much, my son, and I have not the skills to ease your pain,” he said. “I am an old man, and my life is simple.” He chuckled. “I like it that way.”
    “Aye,” Raphael said, offering him a shy smile. “I fear I have upset your tranquility, Brother Leo.”
    Brother Leo shook his head. “I know you did not climb all this way to test my faith with your stories and your questions,” he said. “My simple life is of little import to you, though my heart is enriched by the knowledge that you will fret about having an undueeffect on my thoughts.” He shook his head. “I wish that I could give you the gift of such simplicity, but I know I am not the one you seek. I cannot help you find your path.”
    Raphael said nothing, and Brother Leo could not tell if the young man’s reticence stemmed from politeness or despair.
    “Brother Francis does not live among us,” Brother Leo said, and when Raphael tensed at his words, he gently squeezed the knight’s shoulder. “He lives in a tiny cell,” Brother Leo continued. “Just over there.” Brother Leo pointed out the corner of the shack that stuck out beyond the wide shelf of rock that lay on the other side of the chasm. “We try not to disturb him during his vigil. Every day I come here and offer him a benediction. If he responds, then I cross the bridge and we say our prayers together.”
    “What do you say?” Raphael asked, his voice breaking.
    “It is from the fifty-first Psalm,” Brother Leo said, eyeing Raphael carefully. “‘
Domine, labia mea aperies
.’ Do you know it?”
    “‘Lord, open my lips,’” Raphael translated.
    “Do you know what comes next?”
    Raphael shook his head.
    “‘
Et os meum annuntiabit laudem tuam
,’” Brother Leo said. “‘And my mouth shall declare Your praise.’”
    Tears began to track down Raphael’s face.
    Brother Leo embraced the