He couldn’t answer his own question. So with a slant remark of disappointment in his face he closed the book shut, with the leaf still in it.
“Die heilige Bibel”.
The books little size concealed what greatness laid within its pages, what learning could be taught and taken from the ink. The old man still looked upon Markus, still bewildered and still he said nothing when Markus closed the bible. He sat there for a second with his left hand on top of the bible and the right hand under it, firmly placed in his lab. Markus took a short gasp of fresh air, tilting his head a slight nudge, his eyes looking down on the dirty road and then replied.
“Nothing is in my head, my friend. For all I need is in my heart”
He gave a smile to the old man, a gentle clap on his shoulder and then he rose from the bench.
“Möge Gott sie segnen für ihre Weisheit”, Markus said and blessed the old man, who humbly put his head down as tough he was in the audience of The Holy Roman Emperor Peter. On his way back home towards the Theologian guild, who had so kindly granted him a room to live and sleep in, as his own room at the cathedral had burned to black sod, for he many days ago while sleeping had knocked a lit candle down from his nightstand and the room had soon caught fire, Markus walked amongst the people at the market. He was in the mood for a fresh apple and with the two silver coins he had found shortly after walking away from the oak tree, he could buy the biggest most juicy and fresh apples he could find. The tight brick paved paths that took you around the whole market split in front of Markus. To his left was Gabarthar’s fruit stand, without a doubt a fine one, hence all the exotic fruits and the place that it had been rewarded with by the market planners, right in the middle of the sun and center of everybody’s attention. Garbathar stood there all days proclaiming how fresh, good and healthy his fruits were. But judging by Garbathar’s big round body he himself wasn’t eating much of his own healthy fruit. To Markus’ right was a small caret parked, in the shade, away from people and a tame looking middle aged man stood idle besides it. Markus walked right, the bible under his arm and the two coins in his hand.
“I want your two best quality apples! Make them as fresh and glorious as today is a hot day!” Markus almost shouted turning many heads including Garbathar.
“Haaarh! If you want quality, come to me, Garbathar!” he shouted all over the marketplace.
“I think not, my good Garbathar” Markus shouted to silence the crowd once more.
“You say your fruits are fresh as a lush meadow shedding the morning fog, do you not?” almost giving Garbathar the opportunity to answer back with a gesture of his hand.
“They are fresher!” he shouted back at the priest laughing.
“Yet I wonder when I look at your fine selection of various sorts and seeds, not which country they are from, not how they taste nor look. But, Garbathar, how many hours, days and nights have your fruits laid in the bottom of an Imperial Merchant ship, rat infested, humidity dry and no sun to tend to the colour of the fruit skin?” again Markus presented his hand as if were about to show a guest where to sit.
“Watch your tong, priest, before you make false accusations that could harm an honest businessman” Garbathar said with hands out from body, bowing slightly with a big smile on his face.
“You, Garbathar, are as honest about your goods as you are slim” Markus quickly replied whipping the false smile of Garbathar’s crocked face.
“Why you little ba…” Garbathar was getting more and more red in his face, looking like an apple.
“Why don’t you honorable people whom are here today to provide their family with quality fruit, come over here to... What is your name my god man?” Markus quickly asked him.
“Giuseppe, Giuseppe Jourlis” the man replied with the speed of lightning.
“Come over to Giuseppe’s fruit caret, the place where you can buy newly plugged apples, grapes, oranges and what your heart desires” Markus proclaimed with the strong volume voice of a seasoned dealer.
With the wave of people slowly making their way toward Giuseppe, Markus turned and saw with delight two big red apples. He gave a little gasp of appreciation before he studied the one apple in silence. He then took Giuseppe by the hand, opened it and let the silver coins fall into his hands.
“But, Father, this would be paying overprice” Giuseppe said with the modesty of an honest man.
“No, Giuseppe. See it as a small token of gratitude for you selling so fine apples” Markus smiled at him.
Markus was wandering in his own thoughts dashing through the streets when a little boy Markus recognized as Bishop Jakob Hern’s trusted runner came up to him with his lungs coming up his throat. The boy stopped dead in his tracks and rested his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath and then after a few seconds cleared his sore air catching throat.
“I’m so glad I found you, Father” the boy managed to say without much struggle.
“Why is that, my son?” Markus asked while placing his hands on the boys shoulder and kneeling down in equal height of the boy.
“If I had to run any further I’m afraid I would have fainted” the boy said and gave a little chuckle.
“Haha, well it is a hot day, Mein Sohn” Markus laughed with the boy.
“But I was send to summon you by Bishop Jakob Hern, Father, he needs to talk to you quickly”.
“Did he say what matter we are to discuss?” Markus asked curiously.
“Not discuss, Father, it sounded like he had a favor to ask from you”.
“Okay, well then I most hasten to him. Where did he tell you that I should meet him?”.
“In the cathedral, Father” the boy answered promptly.
“Okay, thank you for delivering this information to me, Mein Sohn”.
“Don’t mention it, Father” the boy said and swung his right hand briefly in the air, while he still was breathing heavily.
“Arh” Markus sighed “I am expected at the theologian’s guild for a short meeting”.
Markus off course knew that a request for him from the Bishop of Florence stood higher than any guild meeting of the ordinary kind, so his mind was already made.
“Tell you what, if you will do me the favor of telling the guild of my apologies for not attending the meeting” Markus said in a sweet voice but he was interrupted by the boy.
“Father, the guild is particular on the other side of the city” he said and looked sweaty up on Markus.
“Yes, but you bring them my apologies and then you say that you are to get my supper and…” Markus took on of the apples and put it in the little boy’s hand.
“You’ll get the finest apple in all of Florence” He said and closed the boy’s hand around it.
The boy took one bite, looked up at Markus and then he was off. Markus looked after him until he disappeared around the corner then he got up and walked in direction of the Cathedral.
From the outside the Cathedral looked like a palace, but when you walked inside through the huge doors, you were struck by how cozy, decorated and how your body almost shivered in awe of the craftsmanship of the imperial workers who had been sent all the way from Nuremburg, where the first Imperial Cathedral had been built, and how their experience had gone hand in hand with the customs of Italian construction. The sun shone beautifully through the colorful glass all over the cathedral. At the altar Markus could see a choir boy signaling for him to come closer. Markus walked up to the boy, but before he could say anything the choir boy pointed to the right towards the door leading down in the catacombs under the basement.
With torches all the way down the stairs it was lit up well enough for man not to be nervous about taking a wrong step, but Markus’ legs still shook a bit for he had never been on quite good terms with dead people.
“I got it, Vater, I got it!” Markus shouted when his father came up to him.
In his hand wee Markus held and raised the head of a dear from the ground. The pride from his father’s eyes shinning was greater than the one coming from himself. The arrow had pierced the hide right at the heart and the ground was soon covered in red.
“Well done, Markus!” His father said in approval and clapped him on the shoulder “with years you’ll become a greater hunter than your old man, hah!”.
“Your not old, Vater” Markus said with a glint in his eyes.
“No?” his father said with a forming smile.
“You’re just a bit rusty with the bow” Markus laughed.
“Is that so, huh? Well, then let’s take a target competition tomorrow!” his father said with confidence, “But if you stay here I will run home and tell your Mutter to prepare for some good meat, shot by our own Sohn” he said and clapped Markus on the shoulder once more.
“You do that, Vater, and I will get the arrow out”
“You can do that?” His father said and watched his son kneeling and struggling to get the arrow out without ruining the precious fur.
The pride got greater and greater within him realizing he had raised a son that could hunt like a real Germanic man, perhaps even better. Before walking away he took a last look at the dear. Markus had hit the dear right in the heart, clean, hard and fast. A real shot!
He could hear his father’s footsteps fading in the background.
Markus blinked with his eyes to make them slide into focus on the man standing at the end of the corridor. It was Bishop Jakob Hern, a tall well built man is his fifties, standing with a torch in his right hand and the left placed on a half open door leading somewhere Markus had never been. As he got closer to Jakob he could see the seriousness in his eyes. This wasn’t going to be positive meeting Markus concluded in his wondering mind.
“I’m glad you could join us on such a short notice, my son” Jacob Hern said a mellow dark voice.
Before wondering who ‘us’ were Markus took a quick glance beyond the door. All he could see was a table and a chair standing in the middle of the room with four pillars close to the walls with only the table being illuminated by what seemed to be two plates on the table with votive candles on them.
“I have someone I would like you to meet, Markus, but take no notice of his cloth. He is a righteous man” Bishop Jakob Hern said and lightly pushed the door open.
On the other side of the table, the side Markus couldn’t see before, one chair was empty whilst on the other one a man sat with his hands on his thighs. The man’s head was covered by a black hood, dressed in completely black robes and if he had stood in the shadows Markus would never have seen him.
“Mein Sohn, I would like you to meet Herr Falke from Der Imperialen Sicherheitsorganisation”.
[M2TW AAR] HRE - My Sweet Shadow
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And what a way to end it to.
Originally Posted by Gaius julius octavinus
