25 December 1123

　　"He`s gone, Father. Again."

　　Godfrey groaned but insisted on finishing his letter back to the mainland. He dotted the page with a flourish and lay down his quill before scowling at his assistant.

　　"How the hell did he get away this time, someone was supposed to be watching him! When was he last seen? Where?"

　　"In the library, Your Eminence," Godfrey`s assistant replied cautiously. "The monks saw him before their mid-morning prayer but he`d left when they returned. They thought he might`ve gone for breakfast but he wasn`t in the kitchen when they eventually sent someone to check."

　　"Daft monks. Too wrapped up in their prayers to worry about the real world. What of the Book? Don`t tell me he took that too?"

　　"No Father., it was left lying on his writing table. Unaccompanied. Along with all of your notes."

　　"For the love of all that`s holy, I don`t have time for this!" Godfrey swore. "I want him found! I`ll come see him after the Christmas mass."

　　"Yes Bishop," Peter replied. "I`ll dispatch riders now and get some others to search the town. He can`t have gone too far."

　　"No! Less people, the absolute minimum! We don`t want rumours that we`re holding the boy against his will."

　　"Yes Father. I`ll only use our most trustworthy men. The boy shouldn`t be too hard to find, it`ll be difficult to hide the injury from his last escape."

　　"I don`t know how I would manage without you Peter. And please, this constant Father` just makes me feel old."

　　Peter left the room and Godfrey leaned back in his chair, applying pressure to his temples. He was weary. They had finally finished the parish tour and returned to his palace in Bath. The Bishop was excited to settle back into his regular routine and regain his creature comforts. His library and servants. Access to letters from the region`s elite.

　　Most of all, he was excited to bid farewell to his infernal carriage. His buttocks still ached from the bumpy dilapidated roads and Godfrey maintained his new habit of carrying a cushion with him wherever he went. A small concession for his advancing age.

　　Unfortunately Godfrey had been thrust into planning the Christmas Mass, his first major service within the shell of the Bath cathedral.

　　The cathedral was the brainchild of Godfrey`s predecessor who had spent his final years of obsessed with its construction. Yet he had only managed to complete a partial shell surrounding the altar by the time he died, leaving Godfrey with an unfinished church, an expectant congregation and ever-growing debt.

　　Godfrey loathed the cathedral. He had only visited it once, when he was first appointed bishop. It had initially attracted him to the post and his excitement had grown as he journeyed to England and observed the new style of European churches under construction. What bishop didn`t dream of creating such a physical manifestation of the Church`s status and power.

　　But upon seeing the construction site, Godfrey knew that he would never see the cathedral finished during his lifetime. He lacked the blind commitment of his predecessor and resented the old man for committing Godfrey to such a large project, one that would only distract him from worldlier endeavours at the King`s court. Or his work with the Novice to translate the Heretic`s Book.

　　John was a wilful boy. Stubborn and fiery. Nothing like the timid child Godfrey had met on that first stormy night at his parent`s pathetic castle. He had proven to be a handful since joining the Bishop and his attempts to escape started on their very first night.

　　Godfrey had excused John`s early attempts at freedom, blaming them on the rashness of youth. However, weeks passed but the attempts to flee did not. Even a broken arm from one of Godfrey`s overzealous guards wasn`t enough to quash his spirit. John had looked at Godfrey with pure hatred when the Bishop set the boy`s arm for him.

　　No appreciation at all.

　　Godfrey eventually shared the Heretic`s Book in the hopes that curiosity might tame the wild boy. The Bishop further segregated John from the palace`s population to conceal any knowledge of the Book and its otherworldly contents. Isolation hadn`t dampened the boy`s desire for freedom but when he eventually tired of failed escapes and focussed his mind on the Book, he was brilliant.

　　John deciphered more in days than Godfrey had managed in weeks. The broken arm had slowed his efforts but John confirmed that the Book was indeed written in a form of English, though many words were different to any dialect either had heard before.

　　Like Godfrey, John`s efforts also petered out, though this was more due to content than the language used. The Book talked about stars and anatomy, religion and philosophy. Topics that no boy of seventeen could dream to comprehend. But in an attempt to build rapport, Godfrey had decided to expand the boy`s intelligence and granted access to his personal library as promised. Godfrey shared his precious time with John to impart personal insights, though this too was met with a complete lack of appreciation.

　　And even then, the boy`s attempts to escape showed no sign of stopping.

　　Still unsure how to break the boy`s spirit, the Bishop sighed to himself and began preparations for the Christmas Mass. His attendants entered and dressed him in ceremonial attire before he departed for the cathedral. The incomplete building jutted from the ground like the exposed skeleton of some ancient leviathan. The congregation were gathered along an invisible aisle down the guts of the imaginary beast and Godfrey walked among them before stopping at the altar beneath the centre of the beast`s ribcage.

　　The Bishop found himself surprisingly bored by the service, even amid the embryonic cathedral and celebrations of Christ`s birth, one of the grandest ceremonies on the Church calendar. As the congregation busied themselves with another hymn, he wondered when he had lost his passion for preaching.

　　Being stuck amongst the uninspired peasants of the Isles didn`t help, he reasoned, and guiding the simpletons was of little interest compared to court politics. He had been personally tasked by the College of Cardinals to settle a longstanding dispute between the priests and the monks of the region when he received his appointment. And contribute information for the rebellion in Normandy. Mass was much less important.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author`s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

　　It wasn`t until after the service, as Godfrey was halfway through the local`s petitioning, that Peter finally entered the construction site at a brisk pace. Godfrey excused himself from a tiresome conversation about wheat yields and moved to intercept.

　　"We found him," the Assistant whispered. "He was at the stables on the southern edge of town trying to convince the owner to lend him a horse."

　　"Industrious, I`ll grant him that. I hope they didn`t rough him up too much this time."

　　"No Fath&Your Eminence. They were under strict instructions to bring him back without fuss and even had the wits to slip the stablemaster some coin to keep his mouth shut."

　　"Good, we`re learning. Bring John to the library and have him resume work on the Book. I`ll meet him there when I`m finished with this lot."

　　Peter nodded, his silence hinting at an unspoken jealousy. The Assistant knew almost nothing of the Book, only that John assisted in some capacity and that the ruined tome occupied most of Godfrey`s spare thoughts.

　　The Bishop eventually returned to his chambers and had his attendants remove the impractical ecclesiastical robes. He was amused by their reverence during the mundane exercise, reminding him of a pair of well-trained squires removing their knight`s chainmail. His squires took his clothing from the room and returned with a simple afternoon meal of cheese, salted meat and freshly baked bread. It was much better than the basic fare he`d endured during his parish tour and Godfrey was further surprised to be served a fullbodied goblet of wine rather than the ale or mead he had grown accustomed to. It was good to be off the road.

　　Godfrey savoured the meal before leaving for the cathedral`s small library to check on John. A single guard slouched by the door but bolted upright when he saw the Bishop approach.

　　"The boy`s in there?" Godfrey asked.

　　"Yessir. Haven`t heard a peep."

　　"Very good. Try not to be tardy," Godfrey reminded.

　　The Bishop slipped into the room and carefully closed the door behind him. The library was empty but for John, a small shelf of books and a monk working at a far desk. The boy was supposed to be isolated but Godfrey decided to ignore the monk.

　　"You made it further this time," Godfrey said, keeping his voice casual but injecting little warmth. "Almost good enough. I would appreciate if you did not try running again. My patience is wearing thin."

　　The Novice continued to write his notes in silence, his jaw set. Godfrey placed a small wrapped package on the table which finally prompted John to put down his quill.

　　"What`s this?" he asked, his voice sullen.

　　A bribe to keep you in place, you wretched scoundrel, Godfrey thought before answering.

　　"A small gift to celebrate the birth of our Saviour. Something to help with your research."

　　John struggled to tear open the package with his one good hand but eventually exposed a small leather-bound book.

　　"A rare translation of Euclid`s Elements," Godfrey informed. "I discovered it on my journey to England. What are you working on?"

　　The Novice ignored his question and flipped excitedly through the book. Godfrey interrogated his notes instead.

　　The pair had developed a basic understanding of the topics covered in their half of the Book. Some of the anatomical images were vulgar in the details they depicted and Godfrey wondered how the author had managed to learn so much about the human body.

　　 The majority of the text continued to elude the pair but they had each begun deeper investigations of specific topics of interest. In addition to anatomy, Godfrey had taken particular interest in the tome`s militaryrelated aspects while John focussed on a section about folk tales.

　　Godfrey`s recent obsession was an image of five soldiers, each wearing increasingly sophisticated armour. The first two images showed familiar leather jerkins and chainmail, while the third image showed a collection of heavylooking metallic plates. The fourth image regressed, showing a soldier wearing less of the plate armour over frilly clothing, while the fifth image was a complete mystery, appearing to be little more than rigid cloth. Godfrey guessed that the plate armour was the technological pinnacle and had commissioned a local blacksmith to develop a suit for him.

　　Flipping through John`s notes, Godfrey observed that scribblings about mythology had been increasingly replaced with the bizarre mathematical symbols from the Book.

　　"It looks like you`ve had a change in interest. No more folk tales?"

　　John gestured to the monk in the corner.

　　"He had a look and gave some suggestions about what they mean. It`s started to make some sense."

　　Godfrey was intrigued but also furious. The Novice knew that the Book was not to be shared.

　　"Monk, get over here," Godfrey commanded.

　　Without a word, the monk steadily finished his writing, blotted his paper and cleaned his quill before calmly walking over to John`s desk. A middle-aged man with hair starting to grey at the temples, the Monk exuded control as he strode over to the Bishop and his young translator. Godfrey watched intently for any sign of insubordination but received only a pleasant smile.

　　"Yes Your Eminence?" the Monk asked sweetly.

　　"You were able to help John. You know these symbols?"

　　The Monk leaned down and looked at the page again.

　　"Not those symbols exactly. But I saw a similar formalism during my travels to the Holy Land. The Arabs use something similar to express numbers. Like roman numerals but much more efficient."

　　The Bishop scoffed - as if that were possible - but then grew suspicious.

　　"Who are you?" he asked warily.

　　"Adelard, my Bishop," he replied with another smile.

　　Realisation struck like a thunderclap. This was Adelard, the eccentric monk who was said to have travelled the entire world. Who was so favoured by Godfrey`s predecessor. Opinion was split around Bath, half believing him to be brain-addled while others were convinced he was a genius.

　　"Oh!" Adelard exclaimed, seeing the new book in John`s hands. "It`s one of mine!"

　　"I beg your pardon," Godfrey asked incredulously.

　　"The boy`s copy of Euclid, it`s one of mine. I worked on the translation after my journey to Iberia. Wrote three of them, in this very room would you believe. I thought someone might`ve copied it but you`ve managed to find an original."

　　"Yes, well. I`m quite fond of books." Godfrey felt angry at both gifting such a treasure and paying a small fortune for a book that originated from a monk within his own diocese.

　　"You must be indeed. This ruined book you`ve found is a most remarkable treasure. Or part of one at least," Adelard added, stroking the torn spine. "I`ve travelled far in search of knowledge to explain God`s miracles but I`ve never seen anything like this, in form or content. From the little that young John has shown me, this is advanced beyond measure."

　　"Is that so? And what can you tell us of its provenance, from the little you have seen?" Godfrey asked cagily.

　　"As I`ve said Father, it is well beyond anything I`ve come across. I don`t know of any race sufficiently advanced to create such a work. As for the content, it appears to become increasingly advanced as the Book progresses. I`d truly love to see the first half, which might be slightly more accessible. Do you know anything of its whereabouts?"

　　Godfrey sat with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He`d thought the same thing since he first flipped through the ruined Book as his carriage trundled away from the Heretic. He needed that other half of the Book. To think he had thrown it in the mud.

　　"John, I grant my permission to show the Book to Brother Adelard here. Work with him on your translations. Monk, I trust you understand that not a word about this Book is to be shared with a single soul outside this room."

　　The Monk nodded his agreement and Godfrey marched from the room, leaving them to a discussion about the strange numbers.

　　The Bishop sped past the slouching guard and down the corridor to find Peter. He was desperate to dispatch his fastest messenger to the sleepy little ambush town.

　　He needed the other half of that Book!