Come Twilight

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

Part I Csimenae Chapter 10

  Csimenae stared in astonishment. "No," she said as she ran her hands over Sanct' Germain's shoulder. "There are no scars remaining. "

  "It will be the same with you," Sanct' Germain told her, not expecting her to heed him.

  "It was less than three months. Such furrows should leave deep scars," she said, looking toward Rogerian with increasing respect. "You are the one who did this. "

  Rogerian ducked his head. "No; it was not I," he said, his formality indicating his purpose. "Those who are undead keep no record of injury on their flesh. All hurts are borne on their souls. "

  "Very good," Csimenae chuckled, applauding sarcastically. "You both are trying to bend me to your will. "

  "Not my will," said Sanct' Germain as he pulled on his heavy black woollen tunica with the long sleeves. "You have much to learn, and I would like to spare you the most painful lessons. If you will only let me. " In the center of his house the fire shimmied in an errant draft.

  "Again!" she protested, holding her hands up. "I am thankful you will not be here much longer. You do nothing but talk and instruct, instruct and talk. I have been taught until my head is sore, and nothing has changed. " With that, she went to where Aulutis was playing, scooping him up in her arms and holding him close against her. "When you tell me all the things I must do, you forget that I am here to guard and serve my son. When he is a year old, I will sacrifice a horse, as I should have done at his birth, and I will drink its blood so everyone will see and know the horse is within me, to protect Aulutis. Then I will have the power I need. I will hang the skull over the door of my house, and no one will stop me doing it. "

  Sanct' Germain paused in buckling his belt-he was thinner than he had been when he came to Mont Calcius-and considered her. "You do well to take care of your boy. "

  "How gracious you are to tell me so," she exclaimed, making no apology for her insulting tone.

  Rogerian frowned. "He is not gracious," he said to Csimenae. "He is not flattering you. "

  "Is he not?" Csimenae achieved an expression of mock horror. "You cannot mean to slight my child, surely?" She put Aulutis down and began to pace the floor, her steps heavy with ill-concealed frustration. "The rain is endless. I have not ventured beyond the walls for three days. " She rounded on Sanct' Germain, "And do not tell me that I will learn how to cope with running water. That will come. It is this night that troubles me. "

  Sanct' Germain said nothing for a long moment, then sighed. "I will go out and bring in game. "

  "But I want to hunt!" she protested. "You may despise hunting, but I do not. If you have no appetite, let me, at least, tend to mine. There are those in the village who are hungry, and they will share my feast. I know there are deer in the forest, and I want-" She stopped abruptly as Aulutis began to scream; she rushed to gather him up in her arms, soothing and chiding him as she looked over his head and arms. "What is on your floor? His hand is cut!"

  Both Rogerian and Sanct' Germain hurried to respond to her cry. "Let me see," Sanct' Germain said, reaching out for the boy's hand.

  "He's cut!" Csimenae repeated in dismay, shocked at Aulutis' determined shrieks. "He's bleeding!"

  "Then the sooner he is treated, the better," Sanct' Germain said calmly. "He is more angry than hurt, which is a good sign. "

  Rogerian picked up a shard of pottery that was lodged in the earthen floor of the house. "This is the instrument, I think. " He let the light shine on it, revealing a faint red stain on the edge of it.

  "He is cut!" she said again, her voice rising with her son's.

  "Then permit my master to care for the cut," said Rogerian, putting his hand on Csimenae's shoulder as he held out the broken bit of pottery to Sanct' Germain.

  "Why? What will he do?" She stroked Aulutis' head. "Look at all the blood. If you would let me sacrifice one of your horses, he would grow strong from this. "

  "This is hardly enough to warrant killing a horse. There is not so much blood as that," said Sanct' Germain, unperturbed by all he saw but worried at her intentions for his two horses. "The cut is not deep. If I put a salve on it, the healing will be faster. "

  "Because he will be one of yours then, too?" Csimenae suggested, leery of him.

  Sanct' Germain stepped back, appalled at her suspicion. "No. No. "

  "You would not share your blood with a child, is that what you mean, or that you would not share blood with my child?" This was an accusation. "You do not want him protected as you protected me, or is it that you plan to be rid of him, so you may rule in his place?" She waited defensively for his response.

  "I mean I would not force myself on anyone, or bring to my life someone unable to comprehend it. " He turned away doing his best to conceal his distaste. He put the pottery fragment on the small table where his boots were set out, their soles newly filled with his native earth. "Rogerian, old friend, if you will fetch my salve of pansy-and-willow?"

  "It is in the lacquer chest?" Rogerian asked, although he was fairly certain it was. "What vessel?"

  "Yes-the lacquer chest. In the chalcedony jar. " He pressed his lips together as he went toward Csimenae and her son once again.

  "You are angry with me," Csimenae said, her voice sharp and her eyes hot. "You think I am-"

  "Not angry," said Sanct' Germain. "I am revolted by what you imply. "

  "And in time, no doubt I will understand and share your revulsion?" Her words were sweetly vitriolic. "When I comprehend what your life is?"

  This time Sanct' Germain did not bother to take up the dispute. "I will treat your son's hand, and then I will find deer, two stags; I will bring them here alive. You will not touch my horses. "

  "You can find stags in spite of the rain. " She made no effort to disguise her pouting; in her arms Aulutis was no longer howling, but now made furious coughing sounds, his face red and screwed up with passion.

  "I will take precautions against it," he said, and remembered how little of his native earth was left in his chests; by summer he would have to get more or avoid sunlight and running water.

  "Which I will also learn to do," she said in a scornful tone. "Even though this village is my native earth. "

  "When you go beyond its confines, or seek to cross running water, yes. " He studied the child. "He is over the worst. Look for yourself, Csimenae. I do not think his hand is bleeding any longer. "

  "So you say," Csimenae scoffed, hitching her shoulder up as if to shield Aulutis from Sanct' Germain.

  "If you doubt me, examine the cut as much as you want," Sanct' Germain recommended just as Rogerian came from the pantry with the chalcedony jar of salve.

  Csimenae managed to contain Aulutis' little fist and coax it open; there was blood on his palm and the faint line of a cut angling across his palm. "He is no longer bleeding," she admitted after close inspection.

  "Let me salve it," Sanct' Germain said as he removed the stopper from the jar. "It will not hurt him. " He waited while Csimenae made up her mind, then quickly applied a thin film of the ointment to the cut.

  "Is that what you used on the bear's cuts?" she asked as she watched him narrowly.

  "No," Sanct' Germain replied as he finished his work.

  "Then what is it?" She pulled Aulutis' hand away, prepared to wipe the ointment off.

  "It is what I use for hurts suffered by living human beings; it is a very good medicine for cuts and burns and scrapes," he said carefully. "My flesh will mend without such treatment, his will not. " He studied her for a long moment. "If you want to lessen his pain, leave the ointment in place; if not-" He shrugged.

  Csimenae frowned deeply, her face set into hard lines. "I will do what I must. "

  Rogerian stepped back tactfully, going toward the pantry once more.

  "Of course,
" Sanct' Germain said, and moved across the room. "I will bring you deer tonight. "

  "Good," she muttered. "You had better, or I will select another goat or sheep to feed on. " Her determination was plain, and her stance revealed more than her words did about her increasing hunger.

  "The villagers would not like that," Sanct' Germain reminded her as he returned the chalcedony jar to its place in his red-lacquer cabinet; he noticed that Rogerian had opened the small window and was putting out a jar to measure the rain.

  "You worry too much about the people of this village," Csimenae complained. "What have they to say about how I live? You are a stranger, and you will leave here one day. " Before he could answer, she went on, "I know your views on this, Sanct' Germain, never fear. And I know you are wrong. "

  "Am I. " He set the latch on the cabinet.

  "Yes. This is my village, and these are my son's people, and I know them for what they are. They serve my son, and I serve him. He will be their leader, and I will stand beside him," she insisted, clutching her son in her arms. "Get the deer and there will be no reason for us to argue. "

  "All right," he said to her, and looked toward the door. "I will bring the deer to your house some time after midnight. "

  "I will be waiting," said Csimenae, imbuing this promise with great meaning. She picked up her long paenula, pulling it around her and raising the hood so as to protect Aulutis as well as herself. "After midnight. "

  "Yes," he said, and watched her leave.

  "She is troubled," said Rogerian from behind Sanct' Germain.

  He nodded. "That she is. " He gave a single shake of his head.

  "And that, in turn, troubles you, does it not?" Rogerian coughed delicately. "How are we to help her?"

  "Until she is willing to be helped, we can do nothing," Sanct' Germain said in a remote voice. Then he shook off his apprehension. "I will need my birrus, I think, the one with the leather shoulders. "

  Rogerian accepted this change without comment. "How soon do you go out?"

  "As soon as the doors are all bolted for the night," said Sanct' Germain. "It will not be long, given the rain. "

  "I will get it for you, and your boots. " He nodded toward the table. "You will need them. "

  "That I will. " Sanct' Germain managed a one-sided smile. "You think Csimenae will bring us distress. "

  "And so do you," said Rogerian. "At the least, she will want to sacrifice one of your horses. "

  Sanct' Germain did not respond, preferring to ready himself for hunting than to contemplate the problems that lay ahead of them. By the time he slipped out of the village to hunt, he had put his apprehension aside. There was no reason to expect the worst-Csimenae was unused to her new life and was still coming to terms with the demands it made of her. Her trouble was that she had much to learn and time was short. He told himself that Csimenae would come to appreciate his instruction, and would do herself no harm; convinced that he would prevail, he went into the forest.

  His anxiety returned with greater force a month later, as the first snows fell higher up the mountains and three lost travelers stumbled into the village, half-frozen and exhausted.

  "They are a gift, a gift!" Csimenae enthused as she came alone to Sanct' Germain's house after the strangers had been put up in one of the vacant houses. "It is plain that they have been sent here-the spirits of the horses that guard the village have sent them-so that I can learn how to take blood from the living without preying upon the people of this village. " This last was sharp, directed at Sanct' Germain without apology. "Even you must agree they are a gift. "

  Sanct' Germain considered the situation. "What do you know of them, other than they are travelers who lost their way?"

  She folded her arms. "Why does it matter? What else is there to know?"

  His answer held a suggestion of exasperation. "Who they are, as a beginning. If they are expected anywhere, and by whom. What is their reason for traveling. You do not want others looking for them. One of them was speaking Greek when he arrived, the other two Frankish. You cannot be certain why they are traveling together, or where they are bound. It may be they are messengers, or factors. They could be in the service of an Exarch or Episcus or Gardingio. " He saw her disbelief. "Do not think that travelers are without relatives and obligations. "

  "What does this mean to me? They have lost their way. Should a search be made. I need only deny they have been here; who is to contradict me," she said with studied unconcern. "There are still raiders in the forest. Who is to say that these travelers did not meet with the raiders?"

  "The raiders could say the same of this village," Sanct' Germain told her.

  "If any come looking for these travelers, then they, too, will serve my need. " She raised her chin. "It will keep the villagers safe, and we will not have to kill our herds and flocks. "

  Sanct' Germain shook his head. "You do not understand. If you attack travelers, you must kill them all or eventually the world will learn of it, and you will find you are as hunted as the game in the forest. Travelers are wary, and if they know a place holds danger, they will not go there. If you are too blatant in your predation, you yourself will be hunted. "

  "Do you think so?" she challenged him. "If that is your fear, then you will be glad to be away from here, will you not?"

  He was silent for a short while; her clear rejection of him did not surprise him, but it caught him up short. "Yes," he said quietly. "Yes, I will. "

  "Then you are going to leave?" She was happily astonished. "You will be gone after winter is over?"

  "Yes," he said.

  "You give me your Word? You will not change your mind?" Her questions came quickly, and she leaned toward him. "You are willing to leave?"

  "Yes. "

  She smiled. "Then I will leave these travelers alone, for your sake. This time. Do not ask me again. And once you are gone, I will do as I think best. I cannot be forever running into the forest for deer or boar or wild goats, or netting birds. " Looking toward the door, she licked her lips. "Before you go, you must show me how to visit sleepers and take what I want without discovery. "

  "You do not take what you want, you give a pleasant dream and participate in it. You share in the passion you have helped to awaken. It is what you exchange that gives the blood its virtue. If you pursue a man or woman for your benefit alone, neither of you will be furthered by what you do. " He spoke as if by rote, certain that she would not heed him.

  "You will have to show me how," she repeated slyly. "Who shall it be? If I cannot learn on these travelers, who among the villagers shall I-"

  "Neither," Sanct' Germain snapped.

  "But it must be someone, mustn't it?" Csimenae asked, approaching him with slow, determined steps. "And if you forbid me the travelers and my people, who is left?"

  He sighed. "There is another village a day's walk away from here, is there not?" He waited for her to nod. "We will go there. " It was not a solution he wanted, but it was the only one he could think of that would not put her in immediate danger.

  "I cannot," she said quickly. "I would have to leave Aulutis here alone, and he would be at the mercy of the villagers. If they killed him while I was gone, it would not be safe for me to return. "

  Sanct' Germain studied her. "The villagers have sworn fealty to Aulutis; why should they kill him. "

  "He is a baby. He cannot defend himself. If I am not here, the villagers may decide that their vows have no meaning. Why should they honor a boy who cannot speak or fight, who has no horses to defend him?" She pointed directly at Sanct' Germain. "They would say you have done away with me, or have made me your woman, and abandoned my son. "

  "Why should anyone assume you would leave your son?" Sanct' Germain responded. "You have made his cause your own. "

  She sh
ook her head. "What man would take another's son if he sought sons of his own? No, no; without me Aulutis would be lost. If he were bearded, that would be another matter, but that is years away. " Her laughter was harsh. "I cannot leave Aulutis unguarded, and I cannot take him with me, for then we certainly could not return, for someone else would have risen to claim the village. "

  "If you are gone for a single day and night?" Sanct' Germain was incredulous. "Is the village as precarious as that?"

  "A day and a night would be enough," said Csimenae darkly. "There are men enough in the village that they would claim the position of leader. If they did not kill one another attempting to maintain their place. "

  Sanct' Germain's dark brows lowered; she was forcing him to accommodate her, but he had no argument to counter her demands. "All right. If other travelers come before winter is over, I will show you what to do. "

  Her grim mood vanished, to be replaced by sarcastic gratitude. "Oh! Thank you. I am relieved. Then you can leave without worry. "

  "Of course," he said, aware that he would fret no matter what assurance she gave him.

  "So the travelers will go away tomorrow, and tell others that they can find rest and shelter here. " With a faint chuckle she rounded on him. "You are clever, Sanct' Germain. I begin to see your plan. These men will live to tell their tale. If other travelers hear that we will take them in, I will have a better opportunity to have what I desire. " Before he could speak, she went out the door, leaving Sanct' Germain to try to sort out his emotions.

  Rogerian found him later that night sitting beside his red-lacquer chest, his demeanor revealing his uneasiness. "Has there been another misunderstanding?" he asked when Sanct' Germain offered him a halfhearted greeting.

  "I would not think it was a misunderstanding," said Sanct' Germain. "It is more a question of cross-purposes. " He rose. "Csimenae continues to have. . . doubts. "

  "Have the travelers anything to do with it?" Rogerian coughed diplomatically. "As soon as the villagers agreed to give them shelter, I thought she was too conciliating, too willing to provide for the strangers. On her order I have seen the travelers fed and cared for. The villagers do not want to have dealings with them because it might bring misfortune; travelers are thought to be unlucky. "

  Sanct' Germain laughed once. "And so they might be, but not as the villagers fear. " With that, he began to pace. "I told Csimenae I would teach her to visit sleeping travelers-no, not these, but the next ones. "

  "Do you think there will be others?" Rogerian made a sign of impatience. "There have been none before now. "

  "If you do not count us," said Sanct' Germain sardonically. "We were lost travelers, too, you remember. "

  "And think how much time has passed between our arrival and theirs," said Rogerian, his sandy brows lifting.

  "Do you mean that others might not come before we leave?" Sanct' Germain asked. "It is possible. "

  "It would mean that Csimenae would not be able to claim what she seeks. Is that what you hope?" Rogerian's gaze was keen.

  "Perhaps," Sanct' Germain admitted. "Although she will need to know how to bring sweet dreams if she is to continue to live among people. " This admission shook him, and he turned away but not before Rogerian saw the shadow of trouble cross Sanct' Germain's dark eyes.

  Winter deepened, bringing cold and darkness to the mountains. Wolves howled in the night and the game in the forest grew thin as leaves, then bark and berries were stripped away. Hunting grew more arduous as snow and hunger made their claims on the animals of the forest. In Mont Calcius the sheepfold was built up with pine boughs to keep the worst of the wind from chilling the flock and blighting their wool. Two of the houses were torn down to provide materials for repairing others, and, on Csimenae's orders, men went into the forest every clear day to gather wood for the village fires.

  At the end of January, four monks on two worn-out horses wandered into the village, one of the monks coughing and feverish, the others desperate for warmth and food which the villagers reluctantly provided for the sake of the horses. The monks called down blessings on Mont Calcius and thanked Aulutis for his kindness before setting about tending to their stricken comrade even while the villagers stabled their animals.

  "You have heard about the strangers, haven't you-one of them is sick. " She came toward him. "Will you treat the monk?" Csimenae demanded as she sauntered into the center of his house. "Is he going to recover?"

  "I do not know how ill he is. If he grows worse, then I must care for him," Sanct' Germain answered. "In a day or two I will be able to tell you more. "

  "They came with horses," she said, clearly convinced that this was significant. "There haven't been horses in this village since the Great Pox. Other than your two horses. " She gave him a sidelong glance. "I have let you have your horses. "

  "Does that make a difference? that they have horses," Sanct' Germain asked as he laid more wood on the fire.

  "It is a sign. "

  "How do you mean?" Sanct' Germain asked warily.

  She regarded him as if his question were foolish. "That the monks are a gift to us. You would not permit me to use the travelers, and I did not argue. You have said that I must respect those men I employ, and I will, I will, when it is earned. This is different. The horses mean the monks are ours. " Her eyes glinted with purpose.

  "In a day or two, we will consider what is to be done," he said, aware he was only postponing the inevitable.

  But this time Csimenae would not be put off. "Why must I wait so long? You will show me how to visit these men in their dreams. You said you would. "

  "Yes. I did. " He could not deny his promise to her. "If this is what you want, then I am bound to teach you. "

  "Good. Tomorrow night, then. I can wait that long. I will feed on one of their horses tonight, to show I am grateful for the gift. " She spun around on one leg. "The horses will make me strong, and my son will flourish. "

  Sanct' Germain regarded her with dismay. "The monks will want their horses when they resume their journey," he said carefully.

  "They will not begrudge us a horse in tribute," said Csimenae. "You have already sacrificed a mule, which is not quite as satisfactory. " Her smile widened. "You may tell me that I have no claim on the horses, but you do not understand. "

  "No," he agreed.

  "The men from the village know the horses are a sign that we have been favored at last. " It was clear that she would not be swayed from her conviction.

  "You are planning to kill one of the monks' horses?" The question was blunt but level.

  "I will take what I need, and then the men will sacrifice it. They will see that I have taken the spirit of the horse as mine own, and they will know that I am protected by horses. " She shook her head. "You will see the wisdom in what I do when I have done it. "

  Sanct' Germain cocked his head, studying Csimenae, wishing again that she did not perplex him so. "These are your people, and you comprehend them as I cannot. But I remind you that the monks will not see your actions as you do. "

  "Do you mean they will be angry?" She shook her head. "It is nothing to me. "

  "It may cause the monks to denounce you," he told her as calmly as he could.

  "Let them. What can they say that would endanger me?"

  "Some monasteries are powerful, with Gardingi to do their will. " He saw her glare at him and added, "I would do you no service to leave you in danger. "

  "There is always danger," she said brusquely. "Men are never free of it. I am not such a fool that I do not know it? After everything you have taught me, can you doubt it? You have told me what I have gained and lost in becoming like you. You have laid out your manner of living, and showed me many things to guide me. I will honor what you have told me, so long as it permits me to guard my son and Mon
t Calcius. That is why we have the horses to protect us. "

  Sanct' Germain held back the retort that sprang to his lips, saying instead, "Yes, there is always danger. " As she shrugged, he continued, "For the living and the undead; for those of our blood, care must be taken if we are not to be exposed, and pay the price for being discovered. "

  "Not this again," she said, starting for the door. "You will meet me tomorrow night at the house where the monks are, and you will show me how I am to bring them dreams. Once I have learned this skill, you will have no reason to teach me anything more. "

  "It isn't learned in a single night," Sanct' Germain told her, feeling an inner cold seize him.

  "Well enough. The monks will be here for a while. " She pointed at him; it was a gesture he had come to recognize as punctuation for an ultimatum. "You will not withhold anything from me. "

  "No; I had not planned to," he said.

  She laughed at him. "And do not try to keep me from the horse, unless you want to give me one of yours in its place; I will do it, if I must. I will deal with the monks when it is necessary. "

  He said nothing as she went out of his house; he gave his attention to the fire, finding discretion in this common chore. He was still at it when Rogerian came out of the shadows of the pantry. "You heard?"

  "It will be hard to travel in winter," was all Rogerian would say.

  Text of a report from the monastery-fortress of Sancta Gratia, sent to the Captios of Duz-and-Exarch of Terraco.

  To the most esteemed commander and leader of the forces of the Duz-and-Exarch, the Captios Willgeprand, the greetings from Sartrium Braulio through the good offices of the scribe Ildefonsus at the Sancta Gratia outpost on this, the 19th day of March in Sanct' Iago's year 623.

  In observance of our duty, we combine our efforts to tell you of the events taking place at this place since the coming of winter, so that you may more readily provide for the welfare of your city, and these men who guard this pass at the will of the Duz-and-Exarch of Terraco.

  In December, a company of men-Frankish merchants by the look of them-were found frozen to death in a defile four thousand paces from our gates. These bodies bore the marks of animals' teeth, but showed no other signs of misadventure. They have been placed in the lower crypt until the ground is thawed enough to allow for proper burial. There was nothing to identify these men beyond their garments, and so likenesses have been ordered drawn; these will be displayed in the Visitor's Hall in the hope that someone may be able to put a name to the dead men.

  In December, five of the guards here were stricken with fever; all but one recovered.

  In December, a man from the Greek outpost came here with news that Arab pirates have been raiding the islands off the coast, and requesting additional men to help in ridding the seas of these merciless sea wolves. Two men asked to go with the Greek officer, and permission was granted to them, provided they serve only the Greeks in this campaign. This oath being given, the men were provided with weapons and the assurance of employment upon their return. There is some fear that the Arabs are being aided by the families of Terraco and Valentia who have been in disfavor or driven from power, for which reason, our men have been commended to the Greeks, that they may not be lured into supporting those who are seeking their own ends without regard to their oaths of fealty.

  In January, a severe avalanche made our road impassable for five weeks together, and as a result, we ran low on wood and certain foods. Rations were cut twice, as our hunting parties could only go on the slopes to the east of us, the west being too unsafe to traverse.

  In January, one traveler arrived from the east, a weaver looking for work. He has put himself to work here, making cloth in exchange for a place to sleep and meals to eat. He has shown no inclination to leave this place, and has spoken of neither father nor son. His name is Sunna, and he claims to have come from Corduba in his youth. Whatever the truth may be, he has made excellent cloth for us, and so we are inclined to keep him here with us if he is willing to remain.

  In February, the first travelers came from the south-west-pilgrims bound for Roma. They were twelve in number, to honor the Apostles. They told of floods at Caesaraugusta and Osca.

  In February, a severe storm struck on the 13th day, lasting for the next three, and once again, this place and the pass it guards were cut off from the world. When the storm was over, the road was once again impassable for many days.

  In February, the one-eyed ewe delivered a still-born lamb, much too early. The ewe was butchered and her flesh roasted. Her fleece has been made into saddle-pads and caps.

  In March, a mountain cat attacked our flock of goats, killing a nanny and her twin kids. Men were dispatched to kill the cat, but were unable to locate the animal in the crags and the snow. Guards have been posted around the flocks to prevent any more slaughter.

  In March, two men came from the south-west, with two horses and a mule, which bore three chests on its saddle. They were bound for Tolosa, and were coming from the mountains above Osca. They were not Greeks, nor Arabs, although one man claimed to be from Gades. As they carried only such weapons as a prudent traveler has with him, they were allowed to continue on.

  In March, three widows from Aqua Sulla arrived from the east, bearing holy relics for the Episcus of Caesaraugusta, which they had vowed on their husbands' graves to see placed in the hands of the holy Episcus.

  In March, a company of peasants brought two cartloads of cheese and bacon to us, as is their duty of old. Rations were changed and the garrison is once again eating like fighting men.

  This concludes our account of activities at Sancta Gratia, the which we submit with our earnest prayers that you may be honored and praised for your excellence, and that you will always be deserving of such distinction. May your sons thrive and bring glory to your House. May you be spared misfortune. May you never flag in your strength or your purpose. May you please men and God in all things.

  Sartrium Braulio

  by the scribe Ildefonsus

  at Sancta Gratia, monastery and fortress