Chapter 25
Archie
I made my way back to my inn, keeping to the shadows all the way. My years of skulking through towns after curfews and into camps after final posts were standing me in good stead. There’s naught harder to slip by than an angry Scottish soldier who’s been denied a chance to go drink with his mates because some hard-shelled sergeant decided he needed to stand gate sentry that night, but it’s more than once I had the doing of it. I’m told that the sergeants would oft wager on if I’d be caught. Which may explain why Sergeant Mackie would oft turn his clan symbol raven gaze on me with no favor. The man had the worst luck in the world, but would oft blame me for it.
I paused in one dark pool of shadow and shifted the knapsack so that it hung from my left shoulder under my left arm with my cloak over all. It wasn’t the best disguise in the world, but barring an encounter with an over-zealous town watch, it should provide the necessary coverage. And so it proved.
I paused in the main room long enough to grab a barley roll and a mug of beer and let the inn keeper know that I’d be leaving at first light and to have the stable man have Cortana ready then. Then I was up the stairs and into my room where I locked and blocked the door, at which point I heaved a sigh of relief, flung my cloak away and placed the knapsack on the bed with some care. I stared at it. I knew I should open it and verify that what was in it at least looked like it might be Master Titus’ prize, but I, I was that uncertain as to whether my hands should touch what Master Titus had indicated might well be one of the oldest Bibles in the world.
In the end, I undid the fastening of the knapsack, and eased out the cloth-wrapped contents. Unfolding what proved to be a faded black monk’s habit, I did in fact uncover a largish book. It was in Greek, of course, which I did not at that time read, but I was impressed by the neatness and organization of the writing in its three columns per page. After turning a few of the pages, I sighed, closed it with care, and gently wrapped it back in the habit and restored it to the knapsack. I placed it on the bed against the wall, placed my small pistol under the pillow and hung my belt with the large pistol from the bedpost before blowing out the candle.
For all that I was delighted to have the codex in my hands, I slept ill that night. I knew that no one should know I had it, but my mind would not settle, and every noise in the night caused me to rouse with my hand on my pistol.
Tired though I was, I was glad to see the dawn light creeping under the shutter.
Minutes later, I was on Cortana’s back nearing the northern gate of Füssen. It’s glad I was that Cortana had had some rest, as I figured it was three days to Ulm ordinarily, and I was going to try to make it in two and a half. The knapsack once again rode under my left arm, where it would likely stay until I got it to safety.
Once we were through the gate, I nudged Cortana up to a canter. I wanted to put many miles behind us that day.