The Golden Visit
The rain had not stopped for three days, and the air inside the Abbey of Saint Jude was thick with the scent of wet stone and the sweet, cloying rot of the orchard outside. Brother Julian stood by the high window of the scriptorium, watching the water drip from the eaves in a steady, rhythmic percussion that seemed to measure the seconds of his life. He was a man of middle age, his face gaunt...
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