November 1308, somewhere in the Yorkshire Dales
Brother Edwyn’s breath misted in the chill air of the cathedral as he murmured a devotion. Cold from the flagstones seeped into his joints and his skin puckered like a plucked chicken's. Normally the soothing rhythm of the chants held the discomforts of age and winter at bay, but not tonight.
Edwyn lifted the grey cowl from his face and peered at the side chapel in the unsteady candlelight. Tapestries depicting Moses receiving the Ten Commandments adorned the walls, their colours faded with age, reminding him entirely too much of himself.
The altar was devoid of ornamentation or religious imagery. A sheaf of scrolls covered one end, while the remainder was given over to half a dozen leather-bound books stacked in a neat pile.
Misery welled in his heart at the thought of abandoning this place. The opportunity to study the manuscripts had been a gift in the beginning; their promise of a secret and ancient knowledge had been bright and golden. But as time passed and his limitations had become self-evident, that promise had tarnished. Now darkness and betrayal had come.
Edwyn turned from the altar and straightened as much as his stooped body would allow. One final burden to be shouldered, then he could rest.
The cathedral was wreathed in darkness, the candles and braziers failing to hold back the gloom. Its silence was thick and enduring, like that of a crypt. Edwyn was accustomed to quiet, yet this unnatural stillness weighed heavily upon him.
The high altar was the only bright point in the vastness of the cathedral. A hundred candles burned along its glittering length, their yellow light reflecting off its gilt edges.
Edwyn knelt before it and muttered a quick prayer. His gaze rose to the Tree of Life, the sacred and mystical symbol of his secret order – the Brightening Dawn. Silver tendrils wound through its branches, symbolic of the paths of wisdom. Yet their gates remained closed to him despite his desperate studies. The price of failure resolved into the drumbeat of approaching horses.
Payment was due.
Edwyn genuflected towards the high altar and pulled the cowl back into place. Determined now, he strode towards the nave.
Haste was best; it gave him less time to think.