Sinner: A Prequel to the Mongoliad

HUMILIS

Andreas stood at the edge of the field beside Raphael’s majestic and patient horse and idly ran his hands through the beast’s glossy mane as he watched Raphael pace back and forth across the fallow earth.

Tiny white clouds floated in Raphael’s wake as he scattered handfuls of ash from a basket clutched beneath his other arm. A playful wind had blown a fair amount of the ash of the lovers back at Raphael, and his torso and legs were lightly dusted by the time he was finished with his task.

“Pulvis es et in pulveram reverteris,” Raphael said as he came over to Andreas. He seemed to notice the ash on his clothing and brushed vainly at it for a moment before giving up with a shrug.

“Were we wrong?” Andreas asked.

Raphael shook his head. “I don’t know, Andreas. I have fought Saracens beneath the banner of Christ. I have fought alongside Moors in Iberia. I have stood with pagans against the Church. Our own order tries to forget its past, and have we lost our way as a result? These people had a relationship with this land that existed for generations. Who are we to say that what we have brought them is better or worse?”

Andreas patted Raphael’s horse. “Maybe it is best to be simple knights,” he said. “Defend our honor and the honor of those who cannot defend themselves.”

Raphael offered him a wan smile. “I admire your simplicity.”

“Good,” Andreas said. “Then perhaps you will not mind my company on the way to Mainz.”

“Why do you think I am going to Mainz?” Raphael asked, a note of cautious curiosity in his voice.

“I wish to speak with the Archbishop there,” Andreas said, ignoring Raphael’s question. “The abbey at Lorsch used to have a library, but the monks tell me it was closed on the Archbishop’s order. I wanted to ask him why.”

“The library,” Raphael said slowly, as if he was examining Andreas’s words for some hidden meaning. “At Lorsch.”

“Yes.” Andreas shrugged. “Though I suppose we might run into the inquisitor,” he added as if the thought had suddenly occurred to him.

“He did leave awfully suddenly,” Raphael mused, feigning a similar innocence.

“It does only seem right that we let him know how his tribunal turned out, don’t you think? In case he wants to send a report to Rome.”

Raphael laughed. “Your simplicity has an unnerving daring to it, Andreas.”

“I am but a mere sword.” Andreas extended his arm, fingers outstretched. “Point me in the direction of our enemies.”

Raphael clapped the younger man on the shoulder and climbed into the saddle of his horse. He raised his hand against the morning glare and made a show of looking from horizon to horizon.

“That way,” he said, pointing to the east.