Page 10 of Bloodlines and Birthright

I waited for Oscar to remind him that it was me who’d been corresponding with the abbey librarian, not Oscar. But he did not.

He gave a slight bow. “Our apologies, Father Abbot.”

The abbot indicated the door. “Please, let us go to the library now. It is late.”

I wasn’t sure if he was admonishing us for visiting at such an hour or if he was concerned that we should be heading back to the village in the dark.

We followed him out of the office, along the corridor to another room, this one much more to my liking. The walls under the vaulted ceiling were lined with packed bookshelves, and tall windows let in enough light for reading at the slanted wooden tables darkened with age. I breathed deeply, drawing in the scent of parchment, ink and beeswax, the latter from the many candles in the room. Despite the stone floor, the room was comforting, cozy, just as I imagined a medieval abbey library to be.

The young monk watching me from beneath a fringe of long eyelashes looked pleased with my reaction. “You must be Professor Nash.” His English was less accented than the abbot’s, his smile genuinely welcoming. “I am the librarian and archivist, Brother Eduardo. Please, come in.” He stretched out his hand for me to shake, like an English gentleman, although the grip was light. “It is good to put a face to the name.”

“Indeed it is,” I said. “What a wonderful space you have to work in, Brother. You are fortunate to be surrounded by so much knowledge.”

“Would you like to look around, Professor?” Smiling, he indicated a set of shelves housing manuscripts chained to iron rods running the length of each shelf. “These are the oldest volumes. Some date to the thirteenth century.”

“Vellum?”

“And parchment.”

I wiggled my fingers, not quite sure where to begin or whether I should be touching such precious tomes at all. “You are fortunate to be able to work in this wonderful space, Brother.” Oh lord, I was repeating myself. I felt like a buffoon in front of such a composed young man.

Fortunately, Brother Eduardo didn’t laugh. Instead, he took in the room as if he were seeing it with fresh eyes all over again. “It was once the scriptorium, filled with a dozen monks all bent to the task of copying precious documents. The illustrators had great skill, their work so fine and elegant. May I suggest a volume to you, Professor? It’s one of my favorites.”

“Oh yes, please do.”

He lightly grasped my elbow and steered me toward another bookshelf. He smelled of lavender soap and ink, a rather pleasant combination, and offered me a warm smile as he reached past me to retrieve a book.

Behind us, Oscar cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to intrude upon this meeting of like-minds, but I need to point out that it’s growing late. Brother, do you have the book we requested?”

I’d been so preoccupied with my surroundings that I didn’t notice the abbot had disappeared until he chose that moment to return. He stood near the door, hands clasped loosely in front of him. Did he think the books and his librarian needed guarding from us? Or was he simply being a good host? I wasn’t familiar enough with Italian or abbey customs to know.

“I am afraid I have some unfortunate news,” Brother Eduardo said.

Oscar stilled. “How unfortunate?”

“I cannot find any books on the subject of ink magic.”

“Why didn’t you tell us this when we wrote to you a year ago?”

I tried glaring at Oscar, encouraging him not to get so heated, but he wasn’t looking at me. I didn’t think a glare would make any difference anyway. He oozed disappointment and frustration from the fists clenched at his sides to the hard set of his jaw.

“I have been looking for the book you requested for a year, Mr. Barratt.” Brother Eduardo swept a hand around the room to encompass the vast number of volumes. “Without a title, or any indication what the book was about, I had to search these individually.”

“You hadn’t already read each one?”

Brother Eduardo’s lips quirked with wry amusement. “No.”

Oscar huffed. “Then you have wasted our time.”

“Oscar,” I hissed. “Brother Eduardo warned me in his last letter that he’d not yet found it. It was our decision to come anyway.”

Brother Eduardo cast me a grateful smile. “Perhaps your visit is not a waste. I believe I know where the book is now.” He glanced at the abbot who remained by the door, his chin jutted forward and his back ramrod straight. He was definitely keeping an eye on us.

The librarian picked up a leather-bound ledger from his desk. “This is a catalog of books that were once kept here but have been sold or given away over the years. Professor, will you join me?”

I peered over his shoulder. “Why not keep all of your books?”

“Some are sold to raise funds for the abbey’s upkeep. Our financial situation was not as it once was. Unfortunately, abbeys and monasteries in remote areas are falling into ruin these days.”