Temple Sword

Chapter 188

Much of the space inside was taken up by identical tables arranged in a neat row in a bright place near the windows.On the walls all around are gigantic bookshelves containing scrolls, books, manuscripts, and chronicles.

Unfinished works are placed on each copying table, pages of books in progress are packed in thin wooden frames, quills and ink bottles are placed next to them, used candle ends and other unknown uses tool.

The twins can only guess that this is a real treasure room, and there is a sacred atmosphere everywhere in it, and they have never seen anything comparable to it.

"Korta!" Sepke bent down to check an unfinished manuscript, and greeted with a low smile, "Korta, come here, come and see this!"

At the bottom of the Latin-heavy page is an eerily beautiful tempera of two helmeted knights hiding behind their shields while a bull stands in front of them, tail raised and spewing a mound of dung at them hit.

Although the trespassing twins tried not to make too much noise, they both burst out laughing at the strange sight.

"Look at this!" Sepke walked to another copying table, "Here is another painting!"

On this page, a bald warrior riding a rabbit struggles with a giant snail; in another unfinished manuscript, several women watch in agony as a man crouches and vomits; Marvel at another painting of a woman plucking mature body parts from a tree.

The boys tried to keep quiet, but even when they put their palms to their mouths, they were still shaking with laughter and tears were falling.

"What the hell is this place?" Corta asked with a smile, "I've never seen anything like it."

"What kind of book would match such a picture?" Sepke asked.

"What are you doing in the scriptorium?" A stern voice sounded from the wide open door, "Who let you in?"

The twins' laughter stopped abruptly. They looked at the man in black standing at the door in horror. His skin was gray, his neck was slender, and his legs were deformed. Glasses make him look even more terrifying.

"Who the hell are you?" The man continued to question, "How did you get in? What, you forgot how to speak?"

"Um, sir, we...we...we're just...uh...I mean, we got lost," Corta stammered, his face going from red to white in an instant, "we...we don't Know...how..."

"I can't understand a word," the man interrupted impatiently, and then looked in Sepke's direction, "What about you? Can you answer my question?"

"Good sir, please forgive me!" Another boy came forward with a serious expression, as if he was wearing a noble muslin robe instead of the tattered clothes that hadn't been changed for a long time. "Please don't be angry with us, it's our first time at this monastery.

We brought the owner here to see a doctor earlier, and we haven't heard from him for several hours now.So we wanted to exercise our stiff limbs a little while we were waiting for him, so we took a walk in the empty corridor, and then found the door here was open, and walked in..."

"Do you think I will believe this clumsy lie?" The man walked between the copying tables, "According to the rules, the door of the scriptorium will always be locked!"

"Please, sir! My brother and I will not lie under any circumstances!" Sepke lied. "The door is indeed open, and we don't know where it leads. You see, good sir, we Nothing touched, right?" He looked at Corta, and the boy nodded, but still couldn't speak.

"Well," the man with the glasses cleared his throat, still not fully convinced, "maybe you guys weren't lying, but when I came in you were giggling like ignorant animals with no sign of respect .”

"We do not deny this, good sir," said the boy, shaking his head, "but please understand that we have been on the road for several weeks, we have not had enough to eat every day, and our master was very ill. The day before None of us slept at night.

We were so tired, when we saw those paintings, um..." Sepke couldn't take it anymore, he burst out laughing, "I'm sorry, sir, but, but that...that one In the painting there is a woman picking poplars from a tree! "

As much as he tried to resist the urge to laugh, he and his brother burst out laughing.The stranger across from him was almost convinced, but now his eyes were narrowed a slit, a dark light flickered in his thick glasses, and he pointed angrily out the door.

"Get out!" He roared like a storm, "Get out! Don't let me see you here again, go to the corridor and wait for your master!"

"Thank you, my lord," Sepke and Corta hurried out with their necks curled up, "You are a good man!"

"I am not a grown-up!" said the old man with spectacles behind them. "I am Brother Remigius, overseer of this scriptorium. And these tempera," he pointed angrily at the pages on the scribe, "It's all symbols and allegories!"

"You say yes," Sepke whispered to his brother, "but that woman picking poplars from a tree is not a serious picture..."

They spent two hours outside, maybe more, the twins sitting beside the hallway wall, lost in thought, while everyone who passed them seemed not to notice them.

The boys' stomachs were rumbling, their eyes were jumping with hunger, and their feet were starting to ache, but still nothing from Lubbock.

Over time, a distinctive sound of knocking, flapping, bumping and footsteps reached their ears.It was a low and familiar voice, and the twins looked at each other almost at the same time.

"Where did this sound come from?" Sepke stretched his neck, "It seems to be coming from all directions..."

Corta frowned thoughtfully, "That's because we are in the corridor." He stood up and began to walk back and forth on the stone slabs in the corridor, pricking up his ears to confirm the source of the sound, and then suddenly excitedly said:
"There, it's coming from there!" He pointed to a small window behind them, near the vault of the wall, "Hold me up, let me see!"

Sepke clasped his two hands together, and Corta stepped lightly on it with his right foot, but was still a finger's height from the window.

"Too high," he said, jumping to the ground, shaking his head, "squat against the wall, let me step on your shoulders!"

"Okay," Sepke looked around cautiously, "but then you have to do it for me too!"

"Of course, of course, hurry up!"

Sepke hugged his head, let Corta step on his knees, then climbed up to his shoulders, reached the high window with both hands, shook it a few times, and finally put his face on it.

"Did you see anything?" Sepke asked with some difficulty.

"Wait, the sun is too bright!" Another boy narrowed his eyes, "I can only see the walls of the monastery, which must be the inner courtyard, I can clearly hear the voices inside, but..."

"Huh? What's the matter? Did the voice come from there?"

"I don't know, I don't..." Corta cut himself off, "Yes, they're right here, right below us!"

He put his face close to the window, looked down, and saw at least thirty young attendants training in the square yard.Two adult trainers paced among them, scanning their movements with stern eyes, now and then correcting awkward stances and strikes.

Looking at these servants in training, Corta's heart skipped a beat.Some fought with spears, others with maces and swords, seeking protection behind black shields adorned with white crosses.

Some practiced fighting with daggers, and some fought with bare hands without weapons.Straw dummies and archery targets stood at the far end of the yard, and bows and crossbows lined the walls, awaiting shooting practice after close-combat training.

"Please, didn't you hear?" Sepuk moaned impatiently, jolting Corta out of his contemplation, "What did you see, what were they doing?"

But at this time, someone behind them cleared their throat loudly, causing Sepke to shrink away in fright, and turned around instinctively. Corta fell to the ground almost vertically, and knelt down in front of the abbot with a plop .

"We've done the examination," said the man dryly, as if he hadn't seen anything. "One of our surgeons examined Mr. Lubbock with a dozen of his assistants, and they counted His heartbeat, watching his urine..."

"But he's got a throat problem," Sepke interjected.

The abbot raised his right hand to signal the boy to be quiet.

"They have examined this gentleman thoroughly," he explained calmly, "but unfortunately, his condition is too serious and has plagued him for too long...

But he still has something to save, come with me, Brother Adel will tell you how to prepare food for your master so that he can regain his strength.We will also prepare some medicinal materials for him, and then we will discuss the issue of payment..."

After speaking, the abbot turned and walked in front, and the twins followed obediently.They believed that the Hospitallers could restore Lubbock, they just didn't know if they had enough money to complete the treatment.

By mid-afternoon they were back at the camp they had set up outside the city, and Lubbock was back in his battered little tent again, the poor old fellow so tired from a long and complicated series of checks that he had just put the twins down. , he fell asleep directly.

But before the old man fell asleep, they forced a large spoonful of the mysterious potion of the Knights Hospitaller down his throat, which contained vinegar, honey, decoctions of various herbs, and a brown syrup-like substance of unknown composition. The Knights Hospitaller hid the formula in seven locked chests, and no one but them knew the true contents.

The boys knew that the Bell Man would not swallow the potion obediently, so in order not to let him spit it out, they quickly clamped his nose, gagged his mouth, and threw his head back after the first mouthful. , Only when he was sure that there was not a drop left in his mouth did he let go of the frail old man.

They left Lubbock in the tent afterward, and he fell asleep quickly.He's still making horrible noises during sleep and having trouble breathing, but he's not coughing like he used to, which is a slightly reassuring sign compared to the pain he's been having for the past few weeks or months .

The boys sat down by the long-extinguished campfire and counted the remaining coins in the lazy evening sun.

After paying for their medicines and exams, and shopping around town for a week's worth of recommended food, they're almost broke, but they're only able to make it this far thanks to Lubbock's usual fairness and generosity.

No matter how much money he makes from each transaction, the old man always keeps half of the profits for himself, and then distributes the remaining half to the children.

They were legal slaves now, and no one would believe that the twins had once been adopted sons and servants of a noble knight, but the old man really treated them as his assistants.

So the boys racked their brains and made various attempts to save Lubbock's life.They would have thought of leaving him in the Abbey to rest until he recovered under the care and supervision of monks and lay doctors, but that would have cost a lot of money, and Lubbock's purses were long gone, and the boys couldn't afford it. Amount required.

So they had to take the old man back to camp and make do with medicine and advice from the Knights Hospitaller, hoping that this well-ventilated tent on the edge of the forest would be more effective than a monastery bed.

"How much do you have left?" Sepke asked with a sour face after counting the coins in his hand.

"It's about the same as yours," Corta sighed and replied dejectedly, "We can't last long on this money, we have to find a way."

"What's the best way? Find a noble here who is willing to let us work, or go to the woods to find seeds and bird eggs?"

"Maybe we should follow the method Lubbock taught us," Corta came up with an idea, "try to sell all the goods left in the cart..."

"What a brilliant idea, my dear brother!" said Sepke sarcastically, and got up and went to the cart and began rummaging inside. "For example, someone will definitely buy this earth-breaking pot, right?

I don't know who can be so stupid, but there must be a fool who would spend all his money on this broken pot. Maybe this fool lives in Eger, waiting for us to find him! "

Corta shook his head helplessly, rolled his eyes sullenly, and Sepke continued:
"Or this cracked wooden cup!" he said, pointing to another piece of rubbish. "The inside of this cup is dirty and smelly, and any bug would be happy to live in it. Let's sell it to the bugs!"

"Enough, stop making such silly jokes!" Corta snapped, "I understand what you mean, stop talking, okay? I've had enough of this..."

(End of this chapter)