Dream of Me/Believe in Me

been serenity suddenly there was activity. Several dozen monks sat outside at tables positioned beside linen screens cleverly set to block the wind and any dust or dirt that might blow with it. Thus sheltered, they had the blessing of bright sunlight to do their work. And what work it was. Krysta gasped softly when she realizedthat the monks were inscribing
books.
As young acolytes scrambled about to fill orders for more ink, more nubs, more parchment, or sat in a circle beneath a tree being instructed in the finer points of calligraphy by a master of the art, precious books were being created.
    “Alfred believes he will be most remembered for restoring learning to this land,” Hawk said quietly. “He says this is so because the peace he has brought will not survive without learning, so it is that which is most important in the end.” He gestured toward a complex of buildings some little distance from the scriptorium. “Our nobles vie to foster their sons with the king even though he requires that they spend a portion of each day in study. There are many still who do not see the sense of that or who think it somehow unmanly, yet they will not gainsay Alfred. The most cloddish of them leaves here with at least a smattering of Latin and more knowledge of the world than he would otherwise ever hope to have.”
    Krysta felt a moment's envy at the thought of what it must be like to dwell within such a place, to have at her fingertips all manner of books and people to explain them. Surely that was a touch of paradise. She looked up into Hawk's blue eyes and fought again to hold on to reason. “Dare I ask if women are also permitted to learn?”
    “How did I know you would ask that?” he teased. “Some feel learned women are inclined to be discontented, unwilling to accept the authority of their fathers and husbands. Mayhap there is some justice to that, for I have not noticed you to be overly compliant.”
    “Mayhap you value compliance overmuch,” Krysta answered. A moment later she regretted the words for they sounded like a challenge. He was a warrior and a leader. Of course, he would expect to be obeyed.
    Quietly, he said, “I have accepted more disobedience from you than from anyone I can remember. Do you wonder why that is, Krysta?”
    She had no time to answer for just then Alfred emerged from the scriptorium accompanied by the priest he and Hawk had been conversing with the preceding evening. Catching sight of the newly arrived couple, they came over to them.
    “There you are,” Alfred said. He appeared in good humor and more, all but bubbling over with enthusiasm that belied the gravity of his position. “My dear,” he said to Krysta, “I don't believe you have met my good friend, Father Asser, the long-suffering soul who undertook to instruct me in Latin.”
    The priest smiled and inclined his head to Krysta. “My lady, well met. I assure you, however, that the task was not so onerous as our king would have you believe.”
    “He flatters me,” Alfred said. “It's because I built this scriptorium and others like it around the land. He plans to flood Wessex with books and I am his willing accomplice.”
    “I would flood the world with books if I could find a way to do it,” the priest acknowledged. “Indeed, I have lately turned my own poor hand to writing a history of the present reign.”
    Alfred sighed good-naturedly. “So now I must be especially good to him, as all anyone is likely to know of me in years hence is what he deigns to write.”
    “I rather think people will remember one or two other things, my lord,” Hawk said dryly.
    Father Asser laughed. “Listen to him, my lord. He is young and vigorous, and much more attuned to the ways of the world than an old penitent such as myself.”
    “Don't wrap your years around you too closely quite yet,” Alfred cautioned. “I have much use for you, my friend. You have only begun to do your work.”
    “May it please Lord God that is so,” the priest said matter-of-factly. He turned to Krysta and surveyed her with frank interest. “Lord Hawk tells me you can read.”
    Alfred, too, appeared to find this curious but not displeasing. “How did you learn?” he asked pleasantly.
    In the presence of the priest, Krysta hesitated to answer, but she realized she could hardly decline to do so. “When I was very small, a monk came to my father's holding in Vestfold. He asked permission to speak of Christ to the people there. My father was