Athelney, spring, 894 AD
Athelney, spring, 894 ADDuring the following days, we transported John in his bed from the gloomy vestry to the comfort of his quarters. I deserted my scriptorial duties to sit by him and respond to his requests or to distract him with conversation.
“What of Esegar?” he asked.
“What of him? He awaits trial when you are back on your feet.”
The abbot lay there considering the ceiling, before slowly saying, “The King’s law states that the good of the state is a harmony of love and justice.”
I stared at my friend so hard that he could not hold my eyes and turned his head on his bolster.
How could he talk blithely of love and justice as he lay sorely wounded? Wounds inflicted on the orders of a man who should have been faithful to him. Nay, it would not do! I rose
