Canterbury, England, 1357
Silence reigned, other than the occasional scratch of a quill or the scrape of parchment that had not been prepared properly. Blessed by natural light, the tall windows within the scriptorium allowed the late afternoon sunshine to penetrate the core of the priory. The image in front of the old monk was almost complete, the letter K ornate within the arc of the round table, Excalibur drawn in alongside. Hmmm, thought the monk to himself, pausing with his quill. Was the Arthurian symbolism too much?
Brother John took time to reflect on the other books he had copied of late, and all of them had that chivalric thread running through them. It was a sign of the times, he thought, where writers everywhere were recasting Arthur into the modernisms of the 14th century, where this notion of chivalry was a thread, literally being woven into the very fabric of this third Edwardian Age.
Brother John, thus reassuring himself that he had done the right thing, finally put down his quill and surveyed his ink-stained fingers and then at the parchment in front of him. This was the very last chapter he was to write within this text and this would be where the story would end, at least on this folio. The old monk sighed. All his life he had copied and written on parchment, taking the words of storytellers through the ages. This was an older text that he was bringing up to date.
He looked down again at the letter K, and again got caught up in his thoughts before turning to the monk next to him.
“Will you ever get used to penning the word King instead of Rex?”
The other monk just smiled in return, before returning to his own work. John thought rise of the English vernacular that meant many folios now were written in the language of his kinfolk. Brother John felt that he should celebrate this fact and reached for the small pot of gold leaf from the shelf behind him. Now it was time to add some grandeur to this text, so that future generations who travel through this textual landscape of his creation understand the importance of the Black Prince to the English people. Yes, gold leaf, he thought to himself as once again he turned his mind back to the work in front of him, hoping to get as much done as possible before the Vespers bell rang out to call the faithful to prayer.
Do you love Bethany Sinclair-Giardini’s work? Read more, here; https://mountainashchapter.com.au/?author=12