Dream of Me/Believe in Me

disquieted by this, he thought it might bring trouble, but on the other hand he did not want to offend the monk in case it came to be that his god truly was powerful. So he sent the monk to me. Brother Malcolm stayed with us some ten years. He preached the gospel to great effect and he also taught me to read.” She hesitated again, seeing how this was taken. When it appeared that neither king nor priest was disturbed by the tale, she added, “As he believed I had some aptitude, he decided I should also learn to write and to cipher.” When this, too, did not seem to shock more than a little, she finished. “He also taught me Latin.”
    “Latin?” Alfred exclaimed. Now he truly did look at her as though she were some species of being he had never before encountered. “You read Latin?”
    “I am fortunate to be able to do so. Brother Malcolm was a very kind and patient teacher. When he died, we all mourned him deeply.”
    “Did your people heed the word of the Christ?” Father Asser asked.
    Krysta nodded. “We all did, and so have many others in the years since. Even my father, toward the end of his life, saw it was not something to be afraid of but rather the hope of a better world.”
    “Then Brother Malcolm's years were well spent,” Alfred said. “He must have been an unusual man to see the possibilities of instructing a young girl. I have always believed that a man of sound judgment builds on a modest foundation and gradually proceeds to greater things. Perhaps it would be possible to offer some simple instructionto the daughters of some of our lords and see if they are inclined to go further.”
    “An excellent idea, my lord,” Hawk said at once and won a surprised but thoroughly approving look from Krysta. He saw it and grinned as he added, “Provided, of course, they do not shirk their womanly duties.”
    “We could have none of that,” the king agreed. “Still, it might be possible—” He broke off, considered the matter for a few moments, then smiled apologetically. “You must forgive me. My mind always runs to how I might better accomplish the earthly tasks to which I have been set. At any rate, my dear, the first copy of a new book has just been finished, a treatise on the organization of government. I have come to view it and when I invited Hawk to accompany me, he said he thought you might like to do the same.”
    This
was the excursion the king had in mind? How extraordinary and how telling of the man. And how kind of Hawk that he would think to include her. Just one more of his many virtues to haunt her in that arid wilderness beyond the present day, but she would not dwell on that. Greatly excited at the prospect of seeing any new book, let alone being one of the very first to see it, Krysta smiled warmly. “I would love to do that, my lord. Until I came to Hawkforte, I had seen only a very few books. Now it seems that I cannot get enough of them.”
    “An admirable affliction, my dear,” the king said and kindly offered his arm. Hawk and Father Asser were left to follow as Alfred escorted her into the scriptorium.
    It was, Krysta quickly decided, every bit as wonderful a place as she could ever have imagined. First, there were the smells. The crisp aroma of fresh parchment, the acrid scent of glue, the rich and heady fragrance of fine leather mingled with the sea-sour whiff of ink, the metallic tang of gold, and the pungent odors of ground rocks and plants mixed to make paints. She closed her eyes for amoment and breathed deeply, knowing that forever after she could be put down anywhere, smell that unique blend of essences, and know precisely where she stood.
    Yet was that only the beginning. On tall wooden desks, books stood open, some in the process of being created, others completed and being read. Their colors leaped out at her, brilliant gold, blue, red, green, and black entwined in the serpentine forms of letters and also in the delicate, complex illustrations scattered throughout each work.
    She was staring enraptured at a capital
A
constructed of intricately intertwining vines in which myriad birds perched when Hawk cleared his throat, recapturing her attention. Alfred and the priest had moved on to a table at the far end of the room where an elderly monk stood guard over the precious new book. “You have charmed the king,” Hawk said lightly. “That is no small feat but I expected no less of you.”
    His praise warmed her but it also left her flustered. “I know