Somehow, Felix’s luck had changed. His father used to berate him for even believing in luck, saying some crap like, “A man makes his own luck.” He remembered a guy named Sanzo from their village who had been kicked in the head by a horse on his wedding day and dropped dead. People tried to rationalize it by imagining poor Sanzo must have been a secret horse thief and his demise was God’s just punishment. Deep down, though, they all knew the truth—Sanzo died because Lady Luck decided it was time for him to die. She sent a fly to bite that horse and put Sanzo in the dirt on a whim. That was just how Luck worked. She didn’t punish or reward people for good or evil, and she wasn't interested in irony. Sometimes She would knock you down, sometimes She would pick you up. There was no reason to it, She just did what she did.
The night before, Felix had lost all hope, but on a whim Lady Luck sent this kid Janus to him. Now that the kid had agreed to help him out, he had to hurry up and get what he needed. There was no telling when She would change her mind and knock him back down.
Within an hour, the two had walked from Janus’s camp to an area outside the ante-City dotted with farms and orchards along several dirt paths branching out from the central, paved one. Their destination was the graveyard of an old Latin Church1 made of faded bricks with a sloping Italic roof and dual apses on either side of the nave. It was in good repair for an abandoned church and there were usually at least a few squatters living inside—Felix knew because he had been one of them.
It had rained the night before, so Felix approached the church carefully in case anyone who had used the place for shelter might still be around. He knew from experience how much vagrants loved to cause trouble for their fellow travelers if they were bigger and stronger, like the ones who had chased off himself and the other squatters a few weeks ago. But this time, he and Janus seemed to be the only visitors and they entered the cemetery through the weatherbeaten gate without any issues.
“Which one is it? Which one is it?” Janus asked, flitting from stone to stone like an anxious dog following a suspicious scent from tree to tree.
“It’s a big one,” Felix said. “It has an angel with a harp.”
They were looking for a gravestone that was not really a gravestone. Supposedly, it was a riddle that would lead to some sort of test, a test he needed to take to have any hope of playing music in this city ever again.
Felix made some very big mistakes when he reached the ante-City. He had come to the East to learn the arts of song and poetry from the greatest practitioners in the world (at least his Uncle told him they were), but he failed to understand that they were all under the centralized authority of a Bards’ Guild that managed who could play where. If he had just started busking for coin in the ante-City, the Guild singers would have been forgiving and shown him how to join through the proper channels…or that’s what they had told him. His crime was too serious for such forgiveness. As Janus guessed, he had stolen a tune from a Greek-speaking singer he heard and set an Iberian composition of his own to it. He even started to get a little popularity and was getting close to having enough saved to bribe the guards to get in the city proper, but that just made word get back to the Guild even faster.
Leave, they told him. They wouldn't even give him the beating he deserved as a thief. All he had to do was go back where he came from and never return to the East, and the matter would be settled. This banishment was their idea of mercy.
They didn’t understand that he couldn’t just “leave”. Stowing away on a ship from Cordoba to get here had nearly killed him, and he wouldn’t survive the return journey.
Felix hoped they would forget about him if he kept a low profile. They did not. And so they started with the beatings. They told him he had a week, or they would get the city guard involved, and if he doubted they had the clout for that he was free to try them.
One of the thugs, a bald one with no neck who unlike the others didn't even bother carrying an instrument, mentioned “the trial thing.” It took a moment for the others to recall what this meant, but they soon remembered. Yes, there was such a thing, and their leader described the churchyard and the fake gravestone Felix was looking for now.
“You need to be a reader for that one, mate,” said the leader, a man so indistinct in Felix’s memory that he could only remember that he carried a lyre. “You a reader, kid?”
Even though it was hopeless, Felix insisted they tell him anything they could about this trial. It started in the churchyard, and for someone who had broken such a serious rule as the one against stealing music, it was probably the only method of joining the Bards’ Guild open to him. The Guild had a sort of annex outside the city proper that even the thugs who had beaten him up spoke of in hushed tones, and passing the trial was the only way in. The singers in it were called Song-Catchers (whatever that was supposed to mean) and they weren’t normal singers. If the men harassing him were the Guild’s front-line thugs, the Song-Catchers were its top-tier thugs, the kind that handled the big problems like espionage and bribery. Or that was the story. Why a Guild of minstrels would need such a thing was beyond Felix, but if that was his only way to join the Guild and learn from the best, he would try it.
Supposedly they would take anyone who could pass the trial whose parameters were inscribed on a monument in the cemetery of this church, even if the person in question was guilty of a serious crime against Guild law. But just as they had taunted him, Felix couldn't read. He had been ducking the Guild enforcers for days trying to find someone who could, but the night before Janus found him he had given in to despair. Even if he found someone who could read, what could he offer them to do it? He was barely keeping himself fed by stealing fruit and eggs from the backs of farmers’ carts while they were distracted by the beggars who were too feeble to steal for themselves
“Found it!” Janus shouted.
Felix came in for a closer look, and what Janus had found did fit the description. It was an impressive looking angel, towering over him with its perfect ringlets of stone hair scattered in every direction across a bas-relief slab. The inscription was caked in dirt and they both instinctively wiped it off with their palms, sending up a cloud of dust that Felix fanned away from his face. Now he could see the incomprehensible lines and curves engraved into the hard stone that he had been waiting for weeks to riddle out. All the suffering of his miserable trip across the sea was finally going to pay off.
“Well? What does it say then?” asked Felix.
Janus stared at the letters, his lips moving silently. Minutes passed, and he had still said nothing.
“Well?”
“It’s—I’m trying to think of some good rhymes for—“
“For the love of—you don’t have to translate the rhymes!” Felix growled. “Just tell me what I’m meant to do.”
“All right, all right. Ahem..:
O thou who through the heat and rain have come
To seek the school of singers, we who catch
The notes now nearly lost to mortal ears,
Com’st thou into the western forest’s shade
And there Dame Fortune will with ancient test
Take measure of thy mettle and thy wit.”
Felix blinked. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Well, the only forest to the west is about a mile from here. Are you sure you really want to come with me?” On the way there, Janus had insisted he was in this until he found the school for singers. “You've already done, really, too much for me. I’m not going to be able to do anything to repay you—for a while at least.”
“No, no, this is what I wanted, after all, isn’t it? To find the singers. And now I nearly have.”
“Well, I won’t try to talk you out of it.”
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Janus and his new ally were walking down a dirt road with the mid-afternoon sun falling lightly on their shoulders, moving slowly but steadily toward the group Felix called the Song-Catchers. He was certain they were the people behind the signet ring and their annex was the “knowledge-horde” the Rus-lander spoke of. Even the name gave it away—they were scholars who gathered song and captured it in written form so they could pass it down to the future. Maybe that was a bit of a stretch, but it was still his best lead in months
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I wonder what Baldwin is doing right now…
Janus hadn’t thought of Baldwin the monk since he got in sight of the city walls. He pictured the monk’s face, lean and angled with intelligent eyes and strikingly light hair. You couldn’t tell how old he was by looking at him, but Janus knew he was young, just over 20. He liked Baldwin because he not only gave him paying work but didn’t try to baptize him against his will, which was a great kindness given his experience with other clerics.
When Janus wasn't working for him, the monk would let him read the numerous manuscripts from the library in his cell as long as he was quiet. Some of the other monks glared at him when they passed—the cells didn't have doors as too much privacy was considered a temptation to sin in the monastic life—but he barely noticed as he engrossed himself in Virgil and Ovid. In time, Janus realized he really liked reading. He wondered how many books there were in the world. Probably at least 100, if not more. He wanted to read them all, and maybe even write one if he ever got a small fortune's worth of parchment.
One afternoon, Janus was in Baldwin’s tiny cell copying a volume of Vitruvius with a loose cover and the smell of mold wafting from the worn, damp vellum. He could see why this one needed to be replaced.
“Do you know anything about this?” Janus asked, looking up from the polished wooden desk and showing the monk the signet ring without any preamble. Janus decided Baldwin was trustworthy enough to show it to without fear he would be accused of having stolen it.
After squinting at the ring for a few minutes, Baldwin returned it with a mystified look.
“It’s very strange: the letters are Greek, but I think the words are Latin. SAPIENTIAE COLLEGIIQUE. ‘For wisdom and the guild.’ I can't truly say what it means without context. Where did you get this?”
Janus told the story about waking up with memory loss in a muddy field and Baldwin’s eyes screwed up with concern. He half expected the monk to give him a surprise baptism with a concealed sprinkler, but Baldwin actually offered to ask around about the ring as long as he could hold onto it for reference. This made Janus nervous, but it wasn't like he had a lot of other options. He got Baldwin to lend him his personal copy of Ovid’s Amores as collateral, which greatly satisfied Janus as the poem was of considerable interest to a fourteen-year-old boy.
Baldwin found the answer within a few weeks. A pilgrim recognized the motto on the ring, which belonged to a secretive order of scholars from the Great City, Constantinople of the East. Which, unfortunately for Janus, was on the other side of the world.
“I guess I’m going to Constantinople,” Janus said matter-of-factly when Baldwin handed the ring back, standing up as if he intended to start walking there right away. “Which way is East?”
While Janus thought he would object to the plan, Baldwin was surprisingly receptive. Janus began to suspect the monk was trying to get rid of him.
“You don't care if I go, then? Didn’t you want me to join your order?” Janus had long suspected this was the real reason for the monk’s kindness toward him.
“There are many reasons,” Baldwin answered with a grave expression. “First, if you stay here you will eventually be forced into orders of some sort. Perhaps not forced at the point of a sword, but forced nonetheless. I know, because it happened to me.”
His words were matter-of-fact rather than self-pitying. That was just the sort of thing that happened, and even Janus knew it, young as he was.
“Second,” the monk continued, “your talents are wasted here. In Christendom, you must go to the East for true learning. You have a unique capacity for the learning of texts, but here you will run out within the year.”
“Unique?”
“Let me show you what I mean. What is the first sentence of the 23rd page of the last book you copied for me?”
Janus recited it mechanically, not knowing why he wanted to hear that particular sentence, a dull one concerning fish and the will of the Lord.
“You can remember everything you’ve read, can’t you?”
“Can’t everyone? Who can read, at least?”
“No, they cannot. In fact, that is one of the reasons men write things down in the first place. Because they cannot remember them for long.”
The obviousness of this hit Janus. How had he not realized it before?
“There are more books in Constantinople than the rest of the continent combined. I’m sure there is some scholar there who could put you to work, even without joining an order. But you have to get there first.”
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“So you can remember just about everything you’ve ever read, you say?” Felix asked to break the silence. The kid had been staring into space as he walked and being ignored like that was starting to irritate him. He remembered Janus had made such a claim on the walk to the church, but at the time he had been too worried about what the test would be to give it much thought.
“Remembering songs I can see, but everything you’ve read? I don’t know if I buy that.”
Janus looked hurt. “I can! I really can! Do you want me to read back the poem from the gravestone, because I can if—”
“Look, I take it back, alright?” Felix said with a stifled groan. “I believe you.”
“Good!”
“I guess there’s no reason for you to lie about it anyway, not that I can see at least. Still, I’ve never heard of anyone being able to do something like that.”
“I don’t know. It’s just something I can do.”
“How did you even read to read in the first place? Someone had to teach you at some point.”
“I don’t remember that part,” Janus said, suddenly dejected. He started hanging his head like he had just been caught stealing sweets from the pantry. “I don’t remember a lot of things. I wasn’t even from Francia, originally, I’m—“
“Let’s talk about something else. Like, tell me about Francia…or something.”
Felix didn’t want to get into such a touchy matter, and fortunately, Janus was happy to chatter on about Paris for the rest of the walk in high spirits.
When they were in sight of the woods, Felix noticed for the first time that the kid kept trying to match his pace step for step. It annoyed him, but he couldn't bring himself to tell him to knock it off either. He didn't want Janus thinking they were good friends and not just two people pursuing the same goal, but he felt too indebted to set him straight. Janus was obviously still a child, but even for a child, he was very childish. Felix had always been the youngest, and his only experience with siblings was learning to avoid his older sisters’ bullying. He had no idea what it was like to have someone younger following him like a lost puppy, and he didn’t find it enjoyable in the least.
Maybe I should just tell him to piss off?
It was too late for that, though. And chances were, the kid would follow him no matter what he said. Janus had been stalking him for days and he wasn’t likely to stop until he got what he was after.
If nothing else, he's another body to throw at whatever this test is. It was a cold thought, but it was a cold world. The real Dame Fortune made sure of that.
Soon they found a path leading into the woods. Felix was glad to get out of the heat of the fields with the green canopy of leaves overhead and the sound of brush crunching under his feet was pleasant.
“Did the poem say anything more about where to go?” Felix asked.
“Nope. I translated it as faithfully as I could, and all it said was, you know, go in the woods and get—“
Before Janus could finish his sentence, a voice from nowhere Felix could see broke into song, accompanied by what he recognized as an oud, a lute with a short neck favored by Saracens. The notes were crisp and gentle, as if accompanying the leaves falling off the trees around them. It was a woman’s voice and she was a talented singer, without crack or a tremble in spite of the height of the notes. He couldn’t understand the language, but the words sounded foreboding if not malicious, giving him a queasy feeling.
“Did you understand that?” Felix asked in a whisper.
“No, but it must mean the test is starting,” Janus answered, not bothering to whisper. “Do you feel kind of sick too?”
“I don’t know if I’d call it ‘sick’, but yes, something like that. I think it came from over there, deeper in.” After that performance, Felix didn't like the idea of going toward the voice, but what other choice was there? "Let’s find this Dame Fortune, whoever she is.”
“I’ve seen something like this before,” said Janus an hour later. They had been walking through what felt like the same stretch of forest without making any progress toward the owner of the mysterious voice. “This forest must be enchanted.”
“There’s no such thing as enchantments,” said Felix. “In some places, they’ll flog you for even saying stuff like that is real because the Church is so touchy about it. No, we’re just lost.”
Janus gave him a pitying look that clearly said, “How naïve”, without actually using the words.
“Can you even tell me which direction we came from?”
“No, but that doesn’t prove anything. You’ve just read too many stories and it’s rotted out your mind.”
Felix couldn’t help noticing he sounded like his mother, and it did not please him. “Look, the sun is definitely moving that way, so we’re still basically headed east. This forest isn’t that big, so at worst we should come out of it pretty soon and get our bearings.”
But half an hour later, they were still walking in what Felix was sure was the same direction to no avail. Something was definitely wrong—walking East from where they entered the forest, they should’ve been back in the open by now. Were they going around in circles? He didn’t recognize any of the scenery, so—
“It’s got to be an enchantment,” Janus deadpanned, before suddenly brightening, “This is an enchanted forest! We’re really in one now! Oh, that must be why they sent us here. Maybe this Dame is a Witch, and we have to, like, trap her in a magic box or something!”
Felix remained skeptical. He had had too many tricks about ghosts played on him by his sisters to entertain the idea that anything too far beyond everyday reality was real. There must be a rational explanation. But! It really didn’t matter either way, did it? He just had to pass this stupid test, not figure out the mysteries of the universe.
Felix had an idea. He stopped where he was and cupped his hands around his mouth.
“I know you’re watching us, so just come out already!” Felix shouted. There’s no point in hiding anymore!”
Janus looked around at the trees with his mouth open. Without the sound of their footsteps, Felix could clearly hear the thrushes calling and the cicadas crying in the trees. He stood with his fist clenched and his head cocked defiantly.
Just when Felix was about to sigh and move on, he heard a voice from the trees.
“Very well. Let the trial begin.”