495 Part 2: The Death of a King

To the Abbot of St Anselmo di Aventino, in the Holy See of Rome, be this lettre take.

God had surely creayted Brittania to test the faith of men. For in oure finest hour He hath taykyn the one hope for His people. Havinge won to gloriouse measyre, with manye Session heathens and Nephilim sent to their respictivve pits in hell, our Grayte Kyng Utherpendragon hath fallen, succuombed to the unmanly art of poisin, and with him taken manye high lords of this land, who wert with him in hall to celebrayte theyr grayte victorye against Satan.

Onlye a handsfull of true cnichts remayne to stayve off the Sessions, and they are olde and wizened beyond use or young and brayzen and foolishe. They will certainlye fall, one by one, to the nexte demon to spawn from the Session shore. Or fall upon themsilves and brayke Gods commandemente and covet their neighbors wives and lands. Eithyr course leads to the destruction of Brittania.

To mayke mattres worse, to the west, wherein lie our best, last hope, we find the Abbot of our Brother House in Carliorn aghast with storyes of Wild Heathyns from Ireland, burnying their way up and down the coasts of Gales. No aid nor quartre can come from the West. Perhaps our onlye hope is the upstarte Idris from Brittainnia the Lesser. But will any Christian knights fallow his banner?

Dear brother Abbot we cannot place our hope in the princes of this realm for they are weak in faith and in arms. Manye houses of God and good works will be lost, I feayre, to the anslaught of Sessions, and for that reason I place in your trust these chests of silver, which by right belong to the Holy Mother Church in Rome, and humbly request that they perhaps secure a small sinecure in your Abbey or supporting lands thereof for me and mine.

God, I fear, hath abbandoned these whyte clift shores.

Your brothyr in Jesus Christ,
The Abbot of St. Albans