The Wistful Show
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a fine, grey mist that clung to the stone walls of the Abbey of St. Jude and soaked into the bones of those who walked its corridors. It was the time of the mid-century, when the old faith still held court in the shadows and the new, sharper laws of the King’s men began to scratch at the edges of the sanctuary. In the scriptorium, where the...
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