The Pale Banner
The bell rang. It did not ring for the hour. It rang for the end. You stood in the courtyard of the Abbey of Saint Jude. The stones were cold under your boots. You wore the grey wool. It was heavy. It smelled of damp earth and old smoke. You had worn it for twenty years. It was your skin now. Thomas stood before you. He was tall. His face was thin. His eyes were dark. They held no light. He...
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