Deep Storm by Lincoln Child Page A
Authors: Lincoln Child
Tags: Fiction, General, thriller, Suspense, Science-Fiction, Fantasy, Atlantis, Thrillers, Mystery & Detective, Espionage, Body, Mind & Spirit, Mystery And Suspense Fiction, Technological, Atlantis (Legendary place), Lost continents, Geographical myths, Fiction - Espionage, Mythical Civilizations
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sleeve and lovingly dusted the ancient books. Your name is Logan, correct? Dr. Jeremy Logan, Regina Professor of Medieval History at Yale?
The man looked at him. I am Dr. Logan. Currently, though, Im on academic leave.
Please do not think I am prying, my son. I am Father Bronwyn, abbot of Grimwold Castle. He took a seat on the far side of the table with a sigh. In many ways it is a trying job. You would think an abbey as ancient as this would be free from internal bureaucracy and petty grievance. But the truth is just the opposite. And we are so remote, our life so simple and humble, that new initiates come only rarely to our gates. Our number is less than half what it was fifty years ago. He sighed again. But my position has its consolations. For one, I preside over all bibliographic and library matters, and, as you know, the library remains our only, and our most prized, possession God forgive my covetousness.
Logan smiled faintly.
So naturally I am made aware of our comings and goings especially of persons as well recommended as you. Your letters of introduction made impressive reading.
Dr. Logan inclined his head.
I couldnt help but notice that, along with your application to visit our library, an itinerary was included.
Yes, that was an oversight on my part. Ive been doing research at Oxford, and my departure was a hasty one. I fear my papers got a bit scrambled. I wasnt trying to boast.
Of course not. That wasnt my meaning. But I couldnt help but be surprised at the places youve already visited on holiday. St. Urwicks Tower, as I recall. Newfoundland, correct?
Just south of Battle Harbour, on the coast.
And then your second stop. The Abbey of Wrath.
Dr. Logan nodded again.
Ive heard of it, as well. Kap Farvel, Greenland. Almost as remote a location as ours.
They are possessed of an ancient and exceedingly broad library, particularly in local history.
Im sure they are. The abbot leaned closer over the table. I hope youll forgive my familiarity, Dr. Logan: as I said, we get so few visitors these days, and my capacity for social nuance is sadly atrophied. But you see, what surprises me most about these visits of yours is the timing. Those spots boast libraries that would reward weeks of study. And each is difficult, time-consuming, and expensive to get to. Yet according to the itinerary, this is only the third day of your trip. What are you looking for that requires you to move with such speed, and that requires such trouble and expense on your part?
Dr. Logan glanced at the abbot for a moment. Then he cleared his throat. As I said, Father Bronwyn, my including the itinerary among the papers I sent here was an oversight.
Father Bronwyn sat back. Yes, of course. I am an old and curious man, and I didnt mean to pry. He removed his glasses, raised a corner of his cassock sleeve, cleaned them with it, replaced them on his nose. Then he placed his hand on the ancient calfskin volumes he had brought with him. Here are the books you requested. The Lay Anecdotes of Maighstir Beaton, circa 1448; Colquhouns Chronicles Diuerse and Sonderie, of a hundred years later; and of course Trithemiuss Poligraphia. At this last title, the abbot shuddered slightly.
Thank you, Father, Dr. Logan said, nodding as the man rose and took his leave.
An hour later, the monk who had originally helped him returned, removed the manuscripts and incunabula, and took Logans written request for additional volumes. Within a few minutes he returned with still more moldering titles, which he laid on the crisp linen.
Dr. Logan placed the volumes before him and, one after the other, paged through them with white-gloved hands. The first volume was in Middle English; the second in the vulgate; and the third a poor translation of the Attic Greek dialect known as Koine. None of the tongues gave Logan much difficulty, and he read with ease. Yet as he continued, an air of
The man looked at him. I am Dr. Logan. Currently, though, Im on academic leave.
Please do not think I am prying, my son. I am Father Bronwyn, abbot of Grimwold Castle. He took a seat on the far side of the table with a sigh. In many ways it is a trying job. You would think an abbey as ancient as this would be free from internal bureaucracy and petty grievance. But the truth is just the opposite. And we are so remote, our life so simple and humble, that new initiates come only rarely to our gates. Our number is less than half what it was fifty years ago. He sighed again. But my position has its consolations. For one, I preside over all bibliographic and library matters, and, as you know, the library remains our only, and our most prized, possession God forgive my covetousness.
Logan smiled faintly.
So naturally I am made aware of our comings and goings especially of persons as well recommended as you. Your letters of introduction made impressive reading.
Dr. Logan inclined his head.
I couldnt help but notice that, along with your application to visit our library, an itinerary was included.
Yes, that was an oversight on my part. Ive been doing research at Oxford, and my departure was a hasty one. I fear my papers got a bit scrambled. I wasnt trying to boast.
Of course not. That wasnt my meaning. But I couldnt help but be surprised at the places youve already visited on holiday. St. Urwicks Tower, as I recall. Newfoundland, correct?
Just south of Battle Harbour, on the coast.
And then your second stop. The Abbey of Wrath.
Dr. Logan nodded again.
Ive heard of it, as well. Kap Farvel, Greenland. Almost as remote a location as ours.
They are possessed of an ancient and exceedingly broad library, particularly in local history.
Im sure they are. The abbot leaned closer over the table. I hope youll forgive my familiarity, Dr. Logan: as I said, we get so few visitors these days, and my capacity for social nuance is sadly atrophied. But you see, what surprises me most about these visits of yours is the timing. Those spots boast libraries that would reward weeks of study. And each is difficult, time-consuming, and expensive to get to. Yet according to the itinerary, this is only the third day of your trip. What are you looking for that requires you to move with such speed, and that requires such trouble and expense on your part?
Dr. Logan glanced at the abbot for a moment. Then he cleared his throat. As I said, Father Bronwyn, my including the itinerary among the papers I sent here was an oversight.
Father Bronwyn sat back. Yes, of course. I am an old and curious man, and I didnt mean to pry. He removed his glasses, raised a corner of his cassock sleeve, cleaned them with it, replaced them on his nose. Then he placed his hand on the ancient calfskin volumes he had brought with him. Here are the books you requested. The Lay Anecdotes of Maighstir Beaton, circa 1448; Colquhouns Chronicles Diuerse and Sonderie, of a hundred years later; and of course Trithemiuss Poligraphia. At this last title, the abbot shuddered slightly.
Thank you, Father, Dr. Logan said, nodding as the man rose and took his leave.
An hour later, the monk who had originally helped him returned, removed the manuscripts and incunabula, and took Logans written request for additional volumes. Within a few minutes he returned with still more moldering titles, which he laid on the crisp linen.
Dr. Logan placed the volumes before him and, one after the other, paged through them with white-gloved hands. The first volume was in Middle English; the second in the vulgate; and the third a poor translation of the Attic Greek dialect known as Koine. None of the tongues gave Logan much difficulty, and he read with ease. Yet as he continued, an air of
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