As in this day, so in the ancient time the convent of Essalona was
perched on a beetling crag on the northern side of the Sarras
mountains. There the mighty ridge, with its belts of virgin pinewood
and its stony knolls and pastoral glens, breaks off suddenly in a
precipitous escarpment; and, a thousand feet below, the land is an
immense green plain, sweeping away to the blue limits of the north. It
is as though the sea had once on a time run up to the mountain wall and
torn down the tawny rocks for sand and shingle, and had then drawn back
into the north, leaving the good acres to grow green in the sun.
Through the plain winds a river, bright and slow; in many places the
fruitful level is ruffled with thicket and coppice; and among the far
fields the white walls of farms and hamlets glitter amid their boskage.
When the clear sunlight fell on that still expanse of quiet earth, one
might see, in those days, the stone towers and sparkling pinnacles of
the royal city of Sarras, with a soft blue feather of smoke floating
over it.
Often had Desiderius let his eyes rest on the smoulder and gleam of
that busy city, which was all so hushed and dreamlike in the distance,
little thinking the while that one day he should dwell within its
walls, and play a strange part in the deeds that men remember.
From the brink of the escarpment rises the rock of Essalona, and the
convent is built on the edge of the rock, in such sort that, leaning
over the parapet of the open cloister, Desiderius might have dropped a
pebble sheer down to the plain below. A single path wound up the rock
to the gate, so narrow and steep that one sturdy lay-brother might have
held the way with a thresher's flail against a score of men-at-arms.
[Illustration: _King Orgulous_]
Here, then, in this solitary house, Desiderius dwelt with five other
brethren, all good and faithful men; but he, the youngest and yet the
most learned in philosophy and star-lore and the sacred Scriptures and
the books of the wise, was the most meek and lowly of heart. No pains
did he spare his body or his spirit to master the deep knowledge of
divine things. Diligent by day, he eked out the light of the stars
with the lamp of the firefly, or conned his page by the dim shining of
the glow-worm along the lines.
Now as he mused in the cloister he stopped short with a deep sigh, and
stood before the storks, and said: "Away, happy birds; you have leave.
Disport yourselves, soaring very high in the sunny heavens, or take
your rest on our roofs. I have appeased you with food; but to the
hunger of my soul who shall minister?"
At his word the storks flapped their wings and rose from the parapet,
and went sailing up into the sunshine; and Desiderius heard at his
shoulder a most sweet and gracious voice saying: "What is thy hunger,
and wherein wouldst thou have me minister to thee?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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