The love you get is not necessarily charming, the love you don't get will make you crazy, and the love you only get for a moment will only make you crazy.
Another deep winter. The snow fell on the needles of the pine forest outside the monastery, folding into a soft thickness, covering the cloisters, courtyards, cemetery and the entire Baker Valley in the distance.
The snow in the valley carries the unique dampness and coldness of Normandy, intertwined with the meandering wind from the lower reaches of the Seine River, quietly passing through the stone windows of the arcade, sending fine snow particles slanting into the corridor. They left a brief glimmer of light on the ground where the corners of the monks' dark robes brushed, like the dark luster of mother-of-pearl, and then dissipated.
The vague conversation of the young monks was carried in the wind, scattered among the snow curtains:
"Why is Teacher Lant so obsessed with practicing swordsmanship? Before morning prayers and after evening prayers, I always see him wielding his sword in the courtyard."
"Perhaps it's what the heart desires... I've never seen that sword style before. It flows like a prayer and falls quietly like traces of snow."
"Anselm, you often follow the teacher. Do you know why?"
Anselm remained silent. He didn't know why, but he remembered the sheepskin scroll stored deep in the teacher's scripture room - the pattern painted on it with ocher and silver powder, which looked like dancing or martial arts, with the woman's face illuminated by the candlelight.
Part · Starfall Era
Volume One: Sacred Law and Earthly Power
Archbishops in the Middle Ages - Conflicts over Faith, Power and the Holy See
Purpose: Tracing the Origin of Civilization