In an age of intrigue and mystery, Brother Elara, a man of faith with a keen mind, finds himself involved in a delicate secret that surrounds a noblewoman. Between eloquent silences and elusive clues, Elara will have to call upon his sagacity to unravel a tangle of unexpected events. His investigation will lead him through the shadows of a hidden past, where appearances are deceiving and the truth hides behind a facade of respectability. The fate of the noblewoman and the serenity of the community depend on his ability to bring the hidden truth to light.
In 1346, an arranged marriage, a daring escape, and the diplomacy of a shrewd monk threaten the fragile balance between a powerful earl and the sacred convent of Saint Goffredo
by Marco Arezio
A Turbulent Return – Convent of Saint Goffredo, Autumn 1346
After months spent in the shadows of Southwark, Brother Elara returned to his monastery amid the mist-laden hills of central England. Autumn rain fell relentlessly, turning the paths into muddy gashes while the scent of wet grass and dead leaves filled the air.
No sooner had he crossed the oak portal than he sensed unusual agitation: whispered conversations, tense faces, hurried footsteps along the stone corridors—as though an anvil of anxiety weighed upon the entire convent.
During Vespers, when the choir’s Ave Maris Stella faded beneath the Cistercian arches and incense drifted like fog among the capitals, Prior Anselm—his face hollowed by fasts, yet eyes ablaze with zeal—waited for sacred silence to settle over the chapter house. He left the choir, his habit barely brushing the flagstones, and mounted the carved pulpit. Each creaking step warned the brethren of the gravity of his news. His voice rang out like a winter bell:
“Brothers, the convent shelters a lady of high lineage—Lady Aveline de Morleigh, daughter of the Earl of Hartwell. She has arrived in the dead of night, having fled Thornleigh Castle…”
At once an ominous picture emerged: the earl, believing his daughter abducted—or even corrupted by monks—might muster his men-at-arms and swoop upon the cloisters like a falcon on a dovecote. Rumor said he possessed two Flemish bombards—new engines able to cow even the holiest walls. Soldiers starved for booty would not hesitate to violate the sancta sanctorum, tear silver reliquaries from altars, or stable horses in the choir. In that dire year, when chivalric codes bent beneath wartime levies, desecrating a sacred place was no longer sacrilege but strategy: faith itself risked being bartered for iron or land.
Anselm concluded, “Brother Elara, speak with the noblewoman, discover why she fled, and find a way to reconcile her with her father. Only then will our house remain inviolate.”
That night, by a single candle in the parlour, Elara met the frail figure of Lady Aveline.
Wrapped in a dark velvet mantle, she bore delicate features, yet moss-green eyes clouded by fever and fear. Elara’s gentle voice cited the Regula, urging truth as medicine of the soul. Only when he revealed his deeds in London did she open her heart.Her father had betrothed her to Sir Reginald de Bleys—a knight whose house boasted more iron than honor—to settle war debts and unite two counties threatened by famine. Reginald, scarred of face and ruled by violence, demanded a swift ceremony. That very night, Aveline overheard him plot to confine her in the north tower, seize her dowry, and claim the Morleigh estates.
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