The Cannon of Whitby
The earth in the north of England had always been a bitter thing — hard, stubborn, full of bones and old hatreds that no plough could turn. But in the year of our Lord 1250, the soil at Whitby Abbey opened like a wound and vomited forth something that no man in the world had ever seen, and which no scripture had ever foretold. It began with the rain. Three weeks of it, relentless, the kind of...
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