The Codex Lacrimae: The Book of Tears

Chapter 20: The Watcher of the Gods

The next morning, Aurelius awakened to the sound of many activities outside Heimdall's house: the neighing of horses and clop-clop of hooves, the shouting of men lading ships with thumps of cargo, and the clanging of a blacksmith's hammer and roar of a forge. Sun streamed through the leaded windowpanes of the longhouse, and the faint aroma of food wafted across the north end of the dwelling where last night he, Clarinda, and Heimdall had stayed up late talking about events in the Nine Worlds.

That memory startled him into full consciousness and he rose onto an elbow, finding himself near the hearth in the center of the sunken-floored dwelling. As they'd done in the Fenrir-baude, he and Clarinda had fallen asleep there, comfortably lying on furs by the board table where they'd eaten. Aurelius rose to his feet. Neither Clarinda nor Heimdall were in the house. How long had he slept?

Feeling chagrined, he rose quickly and went to the griddle where sausages and small loaves of bread waited. He made and ate a quick sandwich, stowed some small red apples and walnuts in the cloak's inner pocket, and gathered his few belongings. After donning his boots and clothes (both dry now, having hung overnight on a rod by the fire), he checked his tunic pocket to secure Hav's leather envelope, and then strapped sword and hatchet to his belt. The black, white-crossed Hospitaller short cloak completed his outfit. Within five minutes of opening his eyes, he was out the front door.

Bright sunshine and blue skies marked the morning on the fjord. At least twenty wattle-and-daub huts and houses flanked the lane outside Heimdall's home, all expertly built, stout of timber and frame, and well-suited to withstand the harsh weather that must blow off the sea in the winter season. Small farms lay to his left, with broad pastures leading up the green sloping hills.

Aurelius waited for some cows and their herder to pass, then made his way to the port, walking on the thick grasses tufted beneath the post-and-rail spruce fences to avoid the muddy mire from livestock and passerbys.

Two blacksmiths stood before one home with mugs of some hot drink in hand, laughing at a bawdy joke while they took turns directing an apprentice who moved back and forth between a log-pile outside the shop and furnace. The boy looked exhausted, his face already covered in soot, but Aurelius knew from his own experience that the lad wouldn't have it any other way if he were to one day become a guild-member.

Some weaver women stopped talking as he closed on the docks, staring at him while he passed. A couple of younger girls whispered to each other and ran into a house filled with looms. Aurelius greeted the women kindly, but kept moving, trying not to blush at the frank interest they showed in him, and not replying to certain questions he hoped he'd misunderstood!

The muddy path opened onto a timber-lined road along the beach which served as a border between town and port. Seven longships bobbed at anchor in the waters by the rocky shore, and two of the largest were tied down at the long pier.

When he reached the wharf, he spotted Clarinda amidst all the bustling men and activity. She stood at the end of the pier watching Heimdall give orders to the crew rigging and preparing the longboat. She'd obviously positioned herself so that she could keep an eye on Heimdall's front door, and gave Aurelius a welcoming wave at first sight of him. He waved back and made his way to her side.

"Buon giorno, Clarinda," Aurelius greeted.

"Buon giorno, Dormiglione," she replied with a smile.

"Who's a sleepyhead?" he protested, shading his forehead and squinting at the sun. "Not me. They're still loading the ship; you're not late if the ship hasn't set sail."

"Oh, is that how you monks reckon the Divine Office these days?" she asked. "Matins begins when you're ready? Somehow I don't believe the priests in your Krak des Chevaliers would be so relaxed."