Viking Ships at Sunrise - Mary Pope Osborne [4]
But the monk changed the subject.
“I think you would like to visit our monastery,” he said.
“What’s that?” said Annie.
“The place where we monks live and work,” said Brother Patrick. “Come.”
“But the sun’s not up yet,” said Jack. “Won’t the others be asleep?”
“Oh, no,” said Brother Patrick. “In the summer, we rise long before daylight. We have much to do. You’ll see.”
The monk led them up a dirt path. Jack hoped their book was at the monastery. He wanted to leave the gloomy island with its threat of Viking invaders as soon as possible.
A low bell started to ring. Jack saw a lonely church steeple against the gray sky ahead.
The monastery had a stone wall all around it.
Brother Patrick took Jack and Annie through the gate. Beyond the gate was a small church with a hanging bell.
There was also a vegetable garden and six stone huts shaped like giant beehives.
“We grow all our own food,” said Brother Patrick. “Carrots, turnips, spinach, wheat, and beans.”
He led them to the entrance of the first hut. Jack and Annie peeked inside. A monk was pulling flat bread from a low stone oven.
“This is our bakery,” Brother Patrick said.
“It smells good!” said Annie.
“Come along,” Brother Patrick said.
He pointed to each hut as they passed.
“There are our sleeping quarters,” he said. “And that’s where we spin our cloth. In here, we cobble our sandals. There we carve our wooden tools.”
In each of the huts, Jack and Annie could see monks. They were busy spinning or cobbling or carving.
Finally, Brother Patrick came to the largest beehive-like hut.
“I have saved the best for last,” he said. “This is where we do our most important work.”
He stepped inside.
Jack and Annie followed.
The hut was warm and peaceful, yet very alive. It glowed with the golden light of many candles.
Monks sat at wooden tables. Some were reading. Others played chess. Best of all, some were writing and painting in books.
“This is our library,” said Brother Patrick. “Here we study math, history, and poetry. We play chess. And we make books.”
“Jack,” said Annie. “I think this is it.”
“What?” said Jack.
“Civilization!” said Annie.
Brother Patrick laughed.
“Yes, this is where civilization hides,” he said. “On top of our lonely island in the sea.”
“Oh, man,” said Jack. “I love this place.”
“What kind of books do you make here?” asked Annie.
“Books of wonder,” said Brother Patrick. “We record Christian stories as well as the old myths of Ireland.”
“Myths?” said Jack.
“Yes,” said Brother Patrick. “They were gathered from our storytellers—the old women who sing the tales of long ago, when people believed in magic.”
“Wow,” said Annie.
“Come,” said Brother Patrick, “look at the book of Brother Michael. He has worked on it his whole life.”
Brother Patrick led Jack and Annie over to an old monk. The monk was painting a blue border around one of the pages in a book.
“Michael, these two Master Librarians from faraway would like to see your work,” said Brother Patrick.
The old monk looked up at Jack and Annie. His wrinkled face broke into a smile.
“Welcome,” said Brother Michael in a thin, shaky voice.
“Hi,” said Annie.
Brother Michael showed them the cover of his book. It was decorated with gleaming red and blue jewels.
Then he turned the pages. Each was covered with fancy writing and delicate paintings in green, gold, and blue.
“I wish I could paint like that,” said Annie.
“It’s beautiful,” whispered Jack.
“Thank you,” said Brother Michael.
“How do you make a book like this?” asked Annie.
“I write on sheepskin and use goose quill pens,” said Brother Michael. “My paints are made of earth and plants.”
“Wow,” said Annie.
“Show Michael what you are seeking,” Brother Patrick said.
“Oh, right!” said Jack. He pulled out the paper Morgan had given them. He showed the Latin writing to the old monk.
Brother Michael nodded.
“Yes,” he said with a smile. “I know that one quite well.”
Brother Michael turned to the page he had been painting with a blue border. He pointed to the writing at the top of the page.