Alien Rebel Leader: A Sci-Fi Alien

Romance (Warriors of the Vor Empire

Book 2) Mona Albright
Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmass.com/product/alien-rebel-leader-a-sci-fi-alien-romance-warriors-of-t
he-vor-empire-book-2-mona-albright/
ALIEN REBEL LEADER
BOOK TWO IN THE WARRIORS OF THE VOR EMPIRE SERIES
MONA ALBRIGHT
 CONTENTS

About this book

1. Zara
2. Raeth
3. Zara
4. Raeth
5. Zara
6. Raeth
7. Zara
8. Raeth
9. Zara
10. Raeth
11. Zara
12. Raeth
13. Zara
14. Zara
15. Raeth
16. Zara
17. Raeth
18. Zara
19. Raeth
20. Zara
21. Raeth
22. Raeth
23. Zara
24. Raeth
25. Zara
26. Raeth
27. Zara
28. Raeth
29. Zara
30. Raeth
31. Zara
32. Raeth
33. Zara
34. Raeth
35. Zara
36. Raeth
37. Zara
38. Raeth

About the author

This book is dedicated to everyone who had someone underestimate them. It may take a while, it
may take unexpected turns, but the feeling of achieving your dreams is truly special.

I hope you root for Zara to succeed as much as I did.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © Mona Albright, 2022

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner
except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, email: mona@monaalbrightbooks.com

First Edition: June 2022

ISBN 978-2-9577366-3-8 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-2-9577366-2-1 (Ebook)
Published by Bevel Books

MonaAlbrightBooks.com
 ABOUT THIS BOOK

A quick note about this book’s content

To help decide if this book is for you, read on for a brief overview of what’s included in this
story.
The romance in this book is between two lovers where there is some serious heat, but even bigger
trust issues to move beyond before they can enjoy themselves. Seduction is a theme but consent is
always asked for and given. There are some explicit sex scenes described in great detail, but nothing
goes anywhere near the BDSM end of the scale. The heroine likes strong arms to hold her pretty tight
but you won’t find any hair pulling, spanking, or rough sex in this book.
Overall, this story is about two lovers, what comes between them and their journey of lust and
fucking. Oh and the language is a bit strong too. If you feel this story is for you, I’m excited for you to
get to know the world of Zara and Raeth, you’re in for a wild ride.
 1

ZARA

THE RADIO EXPLODED WITH NOISE, the guttural harsh language of the Vor empire filling the tiny cabin,
freezing the blood in my veins.
Move. Do something! Screamed a voice inside me, but my arms wouldn’t obey. The Vor were
here, a battleship the size of a city swinging out from behind the moon and bearing down on us.
The ship. Get back to the research ship.
The thought jolted me into action and I punched the autopilot commands which answered with an
angry beep.
“What the heck?” I said, punching it again.
Destination unknown.
I scrambled out of my seat and threw myself at the small side window, looking out only to find a
vast empty section of space where a huge scientific research vessel should be. The ship and its two
hundred occupants had abandoned us, scared by the arrival of the Vor.
My stomach felt hollow. How could the scientists just abandon us? I leaped back into my chair
punching in a course to take us out into space, far from the Vor ship. The console responded with the
same angry beep.
Unsafe destination.
There was only one choice. I grabbed the controls, disabled the autopilot and swung the small
landing craft around to point out into the endlessness of space. Warning sirens blared out over the ship
and I slammed my hand on the intercom.
“Luna! Brace yourself!” I yelled into the microphone.
I thrust the lever hard, too hard.
“No!” I cried, holding a broken lever limply in my hand. The engine roared to life with a blast
throwing me back in my seat.
A hand grasped the back of my seat and I turned to see my sister pulling her body into the cockpit,
a look of pure disbelief on her face.
“I’m sorry Luna, I really screwed up this time.”
I looked over the control panel but I didn’t know where to start. Hundreds of angry red warning
lights flashed madly for my attention. The largest light was the fuel warning telling me I’d already
burned through most of our fuel cells.
The stars visible through the front window began to elongate into long, brilliant white lines
dashing towards us as we picked up speed.
“Zara, you were supposed to take us up to the main ship, it was an hour long journey!” shouted
Luna.
“Are you flying manually?”
“I can explain. I just wanted to see the moon on the other side of the planet and I saw a ship. It
was a Vor Empire battleship and, well Luna, I panicked.”
“The Vor! Why didn’t you just go back to the research ship?”
“I tried Luna, that's what I am trying to tell you, it’s gone!”
Luna sat down hard in the co-pilot's chair, a stunned look on her face.
“—and I obviously didn't want to go anywhere near the Vor warship,” I continued studying her
face to see how she would react. “So I changed course, but then the autopilot wouldn’t let me go fast
enough to get away from them, so I kind of took control.”
I felt a deep vibration through the control sticks that came from somewhere deep inside the little
ship. Then came a long groan of tortured metal as a further blast of energy pushed the tiny landing
craft far beyond the limits of what it was capable of. If we kept going like this we would be ripped
apart..
Luna screamed at me over the noise. “We must be light-years away from the Vor ship by now.
Slow us down!”
“I can’t,” I yelled back, nodding at the thrust controls. “The lever is broken!”
Our only hope was to let the engines run out of fuel and pray that the tiny ship could hold together.
Luna knew as well as I did that any human female would choose drifting in space over being captured
by the Vor.
I turned to Luna and watched as her eyes ran frantically over the control panel and came to rest on
the emergency burn lever.
I looked up at her in horror. My sister was a scientist and a genius, but she knew absolutely
nothing about being a pilot. With the speed we were going an emergency burn would crush us both to
death with the massive pressure as it fought to slow us down.
“Luna no!” I screamed, reaching out a desperate hand to stop her.
She pulled the lever and I felt like someone had swung a hammer into the back of my head. My
lungs compressed, making it impossible to breathe and in my last few seconds of consciousness I
heard the ship howling as it was torn apart.
 2

RAETH

“RAETH, WE’ VE FOUND THEM.”

Syclus, my second in command, looked up from the console she was working at.
A monstrous Vor battlecruiser appeared on the giant screen. It was a floating city with hundreds of
Vor warriors on board. Its rear thrusters burned brightly as it screamed back towards the Vor home
world.
At the sight of the ship, the crew members in the control center shared nervous glances.
“Is it him?” I asked as the familiar surge of rage built inside me. The ship was a symbol of those
who had betrayed me, and the Emperor who had tried to execute me.
“It’s Prince Zaden’s ship,” Syclus confirmed. “They seem to be in a hurry to get back.”
“That means that they won’t be looking behind them,” I replied, gripping the railing hard. Soon I
would lead two-hundred warriors into a ship-to-ship battle. We needed to capture Zaden.
Syclus’s green eyes shone with excitement. “This is it, Raeth, the final thing we need.“
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I interrupted. “We have a job to do first. We're evenly matched
with his ship. We still need something to give us an advantage.”
“We have you,” she said.
I nodded. My reputation alone would count for a lot, even if I wasn’t the fighter that I used to be.
“And once we have Zaden, nothing can stop us,” Syclus added.
“Syclus…”
“I know, I know, ‘the battle before us, is the only battle’,” she replied, imitating my own low
voice.
Draxos gave a great bark of a laugh. He was the only other Vor on the ship and his thirst for
revenge on the Vor Emperor nearly matched my own.
“Just stay focused, we have to capture him,” I growled, staring at the screen. I was burning to
enter the fight, the blood already pumping in my veins.
“I’m going to prepare the boarding parties, can I tell them you will lead them?” Syclus asked.
I nodded and she swept out of the command center.
There was still one thing that caused me concern. I pulled up the message I had received several
days ago. It contained an image of a human female asleep in a small vessel tumbling through space,
and a coded message that I had not been able to break.
My instructions were to find this ship and rescue her. It was sent by someone who had once saved
my life, the person I was now hunting. Prince Zaden.
I sat down in the captain’s chair and gazed at the enemy ship.
 What games are you playing with me now Zaden?
“Maintain a course to intercept that ship,” I said.
Draxos nodded and I headed out of the command deck, it was time to start preparing for battle.
The cavernous landing bay of my ship housed a dozen deadly looking boarding ships. Rows upon
rows of fighters were getting equipped, putting on their armor and checking their rifles.
I entered the immense space and saw Syclus prowling among the fighters, giving orders.
“You’ll take the Reaver?” Syclus asked, as I approached her.
I nodded and cast a glance over at the edge of the hall where a dark mid-sized ship squatted near
the exit.
“I’ll check her over myself,” I replied.
“I’m sure she has missed your tender touch,” Syclus replied with a smirk.
I ignored her jokes, after fifteen years together I was used to her strange sense of humor.
The chaos from the crowded landing bay faded as the door to the small ship closed behind me. I
slipped into the pilot's seat and breathed deeply, reaching out to grip the familiar worn grooves in the
manual steering column.
The Reaver was the ship that I had used to escape the Vor Emperor. This close to the end, it felt
good to be back here where it had all begun.
My console beeped, Ship located.
The image of the human female was on the screen, ice crystals glimmering on her face. That meant
her life support had failed. She was close to death.
Was Zaden setting me up? If I didn’t try to save her I would lose whatever shred of honor I had
left. A flash of rage shot through me and I smashed my fist down on the console, denting the metal.
I couldn’t let her die.
I fired up The Reaver, strapping in and punching in the coordinates of the small ship.
“Raeth, what are you doing?” called Syclus through the speaker. I looked out and saw her standing
to the side of the ship, a look of confusion on her face.
“I have to leave, do not fight them until I return.”
“What? Where are you going?” Syclus yelled.
I cut her off, the Vor honor system was impossible for outsiders to understand. I maneuvered the
ship out into space and shot towards the stars at maximum speed.
I would return with my honor protected, but in exchange I was risking my crew and everything that
we had worked for.
 3

ZARA

I HEARD a dull thunk and the ship shook. A voice came from far away like someone shouting from the
end of a tunnel. “Human, open the airlock.”
I opened my eyes a fraction and saw the thin trail that my breath left in the air in front of me. A
faint dusting of ice crystals covered every surface, twinkling dully in the dim light. Everything was
deathly calm.
“Luna?” I mumbled my sister's name through numb lips. Every muscle in my body ached. The seat
next to me was empty and a feeling of panic started to set in. Where was my sister?
The voice spoke again, deep, strong and full of anger. “Human, open the airlock.”
I struggled to unbuckle the belt holding me in and tried rubbing some feeling back into my frozen
arms and legs. How long have I been here? The console in front of me was rebooting, drawing a
trickle of power from somewhere. I looked out of the window to see a sinister looking ship locked on
to mine. Its nose section was pointed and curved, as though a bird of prey had me in its grip.
“Open the airlock.”
I moved out of the cockpit and down the narrow corridor, leaning on the walls for support. The
tendrils of ice had spread here too, covering every surface. Just as I had feared, the small rear section
was empty, Luna was not on the ship.
“I am here to help you,” said the voice.
I slowly approached the airlock and took several studying breaths, trying not to panic. I peered
around the corner and Vor warrior stood behind the thick glass, glaring into my ship. He must have
been seven feet tall and packed with muscle. His battered armor made him look like a raider, one of
the solitary figures who combed the system preying on distressed ships.
He saw me and his face contorted with rage, his eyes wild. He shouted something and slammed
his fist into the door and I heard a gentle snap. A small spider web of cracked glass spread from
where his fist had landed.
Whatever hope I held that he might be here to help me vanished instantly. I stumbled back to the
cockpit and looked around frantically. I needed to get a distress signal out, but for that I needed
power. I looked out of the window to his ship that was latched onto mine. My heart leapt, there must
be some connection between our ships that I could use.
I brought up the ship’s system controls and isolated the link.
Connection unstable.
I ignored the warning. “Come on, connect,” I pleaded. “Connect.”
A trickle of energy was drawn into my ship. Success. It needed some time to charge before I could
send a message out, but it should work. I thought of the Vor in the airlock, he could have information
about my sister. My hand hovered over the airlock camera, it was worth a try.
I hit the button and a grainy image showed the brute pacing back and forth in front of the airlock,
occasionally smashing his fists against it. The door seemed to be holding, for now.
I reached out with a trembling hand and pressed the intercom button. “Where’s my sister?” I
asked, wanting to sound strong but only managing a weak croak.
The eyes of the Vor shot up to the camera and the menace in his gaze made me recoil.
“Open the door human. Now.”
He spoke my language with thick guttural tones. It was a sound that many human women in the
system had heard before they were snatched away, never to be heard from again.
“I’m putting out a distress beacon, you should leave before help shows up.” I was bluffing, there
was still nowhere near enough power for that.
“I am here to help you,” he shouted, facing the camera.
“If you really want to help me, give me some fuel and tell me where my sister is.”
“I do not know, but you will come with me.”
He added something else in the Vor language and started to examine the airlock more closely.
I needed another way out of here. I managed to bring up a close range scan and watched the
scanner searching, each sweep of the small green line on the screen causing me to lose a little more
hope.
The Vor warrior had brought something out of his ship and was attaching it to the door and my
heartbeat sped up.
The console dinged, a Fluescan ship called The Latva was in the area trying to communicate. I
felt a surge of hope and opened up a channel.
“Hello, are you there, can you hear me?” I said, ignoring all radio protocols.
There were a few seconds of silence before a voice crackled through the small speaker.
“This is The Latva, we are responding to your distress call.”
“Latva, this is Zara Stratton, I was a part of the research mission Ventura. Please hurry, there’s a
Vor ship here.”
Another pause from my rescuer, my stomach lurched and I increased the volume. “We need to
identify him,” the voice barked.
The Vor was pulling small black boxes out of a crate and was attaching them to the door.
What the heck was he doing?
I slammed my hand on the airlock comm button. “You should get out of here, there’s a ship coming
to rescue me. You don’t want to be here when they arrive.”
He paused and looked at the camera. “Human—-” he started, his voice more urgent than before.
“My name is Zara.”
“Human,” he continued. “The only other ship in the vicinity is a Vor battleship, it is not here to
rescue you.”
“Look Vor, you won’t even give me your name, I don’t trust you. You need to leave now.”
“My name is Raeth.”
My jaw dropped. It couldn’t be him.
I replied to the rescue ship, fighting to keep my voice calm despite having a Vor who claimed to
be a legendary rebel fighter at my door. “He said his name is Raeth.”
“Keep him there until we arrive.”
Keep him here? If this really was the rebel leader, that's the last thing I would want to do.
 The savage looking Vor who claimed to be Raeth walked back into his ship.
“I think he is leav–”
A flash of light lit up my small cabin and I gripped the arms of the chair tightly as a tremor passed
through my ship. A battleship the size of a city had appeared. It dominated my tiny shuttle, filling up
the whole cockpit screen, an endless cliff-face of metal.
I looked up in horror to see the symbol of the Vor Empire and the name of the ship on the side, The
Vargula. All of the blood in my body ran cold in an instant. There was no rescue ship.
“I warned you human,” growled Raeth’s voice.
My hand hovered over the airlock release.
“How do I know I can trust you?” I asked.
Before he could answer, the speakers on my ship rang out.
“Human, do not leave your ship. You will be extracted by the Vor Empire.” The voice was full
of menace and cut right through me.
There was a deafening explosion and the camera feed to the airlock was cut. Smoke barreled
gently into the cockpit, carrying the arid smell of burned metal. I coughed, raising my pistol and trying
desperately to see through the smoke.
Raeth appeared through the smoke, a dark, menacing shadow. Up close he looked savage, his
eyebrows furrowed over a brooding expression. He snarled something in his own language.
“Touch me and I’ll shoot you Vor,” I said, holding the pistol pointed up at him, struggling to keep
my hand from shaking.
“Your weapon is not armed.”
I looked down at the pistol, the safety catch firmly in place. Damn it.
“Read this,” he said, taking a large step towards me and handing me a small device.
“Luna!” I cried, instantly recognising the code that only myself and my sister knew.

Z ARA , I AM SAFE AND HELP IS COMING FOR YOU . DON’ T TRUST THEM , STAY ON YOUR GUARD . PLEASE
don’t try to find us, it’s too dangerous.
Let me know you are safe.

“THEY ARE COMING FOR YOU. WE MUST LEAVE,” HE SAID , TAKING A HALF STEP FORWARD AND HOLDING
out his hand.
Several small ships detached from the Vor battleship and headed straight for us. I hesitated, both
my options were bad, but I stood more of a chance fighting against one Vor than a whole ship full of
them.
“Fine, I’m coming, but I have to send a message to my sister first.”
He gave me a dark look and muttered something in his own language.
I quickly fired a short message out to a place I knew Luna would receive it and moved as fast as I
could to follow him. We passed through the twisted metal and shards of glass that was all that
remained of the obliterated airlock and then through his ship to a dimly lit command deck. The
massive Vor slipped into the pilot’s seat and skilfully unhooked his ship from mine.
“Sit,” he commanded without turning around.
The ship's thrusters engaged and he shouted out harshly as an explosion blasted my little shuttle to
pieces. The shockwave threw me across the cockpit and pain blossomed through my skull blurring my
vision
I tried to sit up, but a wave of dizzying nausea drove me back down. Footsteps approached and
his hands were under me, lifting me effortlessly. I tried to struggle, but I couldn’t make my muscles
obey.
I felt his surprisingly gentle hands brushed my hair away lightly before a blissful coolness took
away some of the pain. Then a wave of exhaustion pulled me into the darkness of sleep.
I had been rescued, but now I was at the mercy of the rebel leader.
 4

RAETH

I TRIED to control my anger and focus on the alarms blaring on the console in front of me. The humans'
hesitation had almost gotten us killed. I should have left her there for the Vor to take her.
A deep shudder passed though the tortured metal of the ship. The Reaver was no match for a Vor
battleship and the explosion had severely damaged it.
“Just hold on,” I quietly begged the ship.
The lights on the communication system dimmed and my frustration rose as each small light went
out one by one. I reset the system, flicking the switch over and over again, but each time the small
lights flickered and died.
I would never make it back in time and I had no way to contact my crew. No way to know if they
had already entered into battle, no way to know if they had even survived.
I set the autopilot and turned to check on the human.
Her lips were slightly parted and her chest gently rose and fell with her shallow breaths. Even as
she slept, her eyebrows were slightly furrowed in defiance. Her stubbornness angered me, but also
drew me to her. I had only come here to protect my honor, but every time I looked at her I felt a
tightening in my chest.
Why was a powerful Vor ship sent to try to capture her, what value did she have to them?
“Who are you?” I whispered.
I felt protective of her, she had powerful enemies and I was all she had.
The ship groaned and I pulled my gaze away from her. Finally we hit the coordinates I had set.
When the ship slowed I swore as I took in the scene laid out before me.
The massive battle had already taken place. The empty hulk of Prince Zaden’s ship hung lifeless
in space. Giant blasted holes had been punched right through it, showing glimpses of the stars behind.
Unbelievably I could see three battleships from the viewing window; my own ship, Zaden’s
destroyed ship, and a third, slightly smaller Vor battle cruiser. The scene was eerily quiet with only a
few small vessels moving from ship to ship. I could tell that only hours ago my crew had been fighting
for their lives. It looked as though they had won but I needed to know if they had captured Prince
Zaden. Nothing else mattered.
“Syclus,” I called through the short range comms unit. “Report.”
“Me report?” Syclus exclaimed. “Where have you been?”
“Syclus,” I repeated, letting a hint of warning enter my voice.
I heard her muttering before she spoke. “They turned and engaged us almost as soon as you left.
We fought with Zaden and it was a close thing, but then the other Vor ship turned up,” she replied.
 “You should all be dead then, what happened?”
“When the second ship turned up it fired on him, not us.”
“Where is Prince Zaden?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
There was a pause before she spoke. “He escaped.”
I clicked off the line and leaned back in the chair. We had lost Zaden, and with him our best
chance at defeating the Vor Emperor.
The human female groaned softly. With Zaden gone, what was I supposed to do with her now?
The protective feeling I had for her returned as I gazed at her, stronger this time.
I set The Reaver down in the huge landing bay and Syclus appeared as I walked down the ramp.
All around us crews were working on repairs.
“I left you for a few hours, what have you done to my ship Syclus?” I asked.
“Speak for yourself, what did you do to The Reaver?” Syclus replied, looking at the battered ship
that was gently smoking and clicking as it cooled down.
“I was attacked by the Vor. But unlike you I was not able to defeat them and capture their ship,”
“Two ships, I captured two ships,” Syclus corrected.
“You practically destroyed Zaden’s ship, what am I supposed to do with it now, tow it into
battle?”
Syclus gave me a withering look.
“Where is Zaden?” I asked.
“Gone, we tried to track him but he managed to disappear.”
There was a movement behind me and a member of the crew exited The Reaver.
“Captain, there’s a human on the ship. What do you want us to do with her?”
I had wanted to keep Zara’s presence a secret until I could find out more about her, but clearly it
was too late now.
Syclus eyes were wide, a look of utter disbelief on her face. “You left us to pick up a human?”
she said, taking a step toward the ship.
I took a half step, blocking her. “She is under my protection.”
“Who is she?”
I didn’t answer.
“The strong and silent Vor, wonderful,” Syclus said, rolling her eyes.
“I will join you in the command center soon,” I replied.
Syclus shook her head and left. There was little use in trying to explain myself to her, she would
have to trust that I knew what I was doing.
I returned to the human and picked her up, feeling the soft curves of her body. Her eyelashes
fluttered and she sighed lightly, causing my heart rate to quicken. She was a mystery I needed to solve,
but more than that, I felt drawn to her.
I placed her down on the thin bed in the medical wing and connected her to a diagnostics machine.
Her skin was smooth and warm and her hair fell down onto the slender curve of her shoulders. I had
never been attracted to humans before but I could not deny my arousal when I looked at her. Humans
were known to be emotional and incredibly difficult to deal with. But this one had shown a strength
and defiance that had awoken a primal desire inside me.
I tried to push the thought of my mind. She had already caused me to abandon my crew. Because
of her, the victory I had bled for had been snatched from my grasp. I could not let her distract me.
THE COMMAND CENTER WAS A HIVE OF ACTIVITY AND I TOOK MY SEAT ON THE RAISED COMMAND
platform.
Draxos leaned over from his console and spoke in a low voice. “You missed a good fight. They
say you went to pick up a human female, are you fucking her?”
“She is under my protection,” I replied, thankful that no-one else on the ship spoke our language.
There were many different cultures on the ship, some not as open about sexual relations as we were.
“Human females are emotional,” he warned, nodding slowly as if he were imparting some ancient
wisdom.
“Syclus,” I called. “When can we get moving?”
“We can’t,” Syclus replied with a grimace as she scanned the information on her console. “The
ship’s too badly damaged, we have to get back to the Alliance station for repairs.”
With the damage to our battleship and the captured Vor cruiser, the journey would be long and
slow.
Draxos spat on the floor. “We are supposed to sit and do nothing for weeks?” he growled. “We
have to hunt the Prince.”
“We can still catch Zaden,” I replied, but I didn’t even believe my own words. Zaden was gone
and drifting around the system searching for him felt as though we had gone back to the start. Could I
do many more years of this?
“Get The Reaver ready,” I commanded. Draxos smiled and clapped his hands together while
Syclus rolled her eyes.
“One more thing, you have a request from Geniva. She wants to know where you went before the
battle,” said Syclus.
I wasn’t going to share information about the human with anyone, especially not the leader of the
Alliance. Not until I knew why she was so important to Prince Zaden.
“We leave as soon as possible,” I replied.
I left the command deck and headed to the medical wing. My curiosity about Zara was consuming
me and I hoped that she would be awake.
 5

ZARA

WIRES SNAKED out from under the bed sheets to a console on the wall. My searching fingertips found
small rubber pads and I let out the breath I was holding as I quickly ripped them off.
I need to get out of here.
My small pistol and a pile of neatly folded clothes sat nearby, I grabbed at them and hurriedly
dressed. The last thing I remembered was a deep voice telling me I was safe. It was hard to imagine
that the voice belonged to someone with the rebel leader's reputation.
I heard the heavy thumps of footsteps and dived for my pistol, taking a deep breath and pointing it
towards the door.
“Shooting me would be a poor way to repay me for saving your life, human.”
It was Raeth.
His bright violet eyes looked up and down the length of my body and I gripped the pistol tighter.
“Don’t move or I’ll shoot you. Where’s my sister?”
He ignored the weapon as if I were holding nothing more dangerous than a fly swatter and sat
down in the room's only chair.
“How do you know the Prince of the Vor?”
“What?” A legendary Vor Rebel Leader asks me about a Prince? What is going on?
His eyes locked onto mine as if he was reading my thoughts.
“I don’t know him,” I spluttered. “At least I know who he is, but how would I know him?”
He held up the small device with Luna’s message. “Because Prince Zaden sent me this.”
Luna was with the Prince of the Vor? This has to be a joke.
“This message is from your sister?” he asked.
I considered my response, Luna had told me to stay on my guard. “If you know something about
her, please tell me.”
The Vor was silent for some time before he spoke.
“I have learned that Prince Zaden has taken a human female as his mate, and he has turned against
his father and the empire. I believe this female is your sister.”
I felt lost. None of this made sense, my sister was a stuffy scientist. The thought of her running
away with a Vor Prince was impossible.
“She must be his prisoner, we have to save her.”
“Do you know how to find her?” he asked quietly.
I glanced at the message again. Please don’t try to find us, it’s too dangerous.
“No,” I lied.
 “You should not lie to me, you are in as much danger as her. The Vor want the Prince, and they
will use you to get to him.”
“That Vor ship was trying to get to me?” I said, the realization creeping up on me.
“Yes.”
I looked at him, trying to see if there was any truth to his words, but he was almost unreadable, his
emotions buried far beneath his hard exterior. The only truth I knew was that he was a Vor, and they
kidnapped human women who were never heard from again.
“But you’re a Vor, how do I know you won’t just give me to them?”
“I no longer serve the empire,” he spat.
There was a flash of anger in his eyes that was so menacing that I took a small step back, my
shoulder blades hitting the wall.
“I thought, because I was a human, the Vor…”
“Not all Vor serve the emperor.”
“Then help me save her.”
Raeth was silent for some time, giving me a considered gaze. “If you want to save her, then give
me any information that might lead me to her.”
I realized what he wanted, to use me in the same way as the Vor, to track down the Prince.
“No, I won’t do it.” My voice had a hard edge to it. No matter what danger I was in, I wouldn't
betray Luna.
“Then you are of no use to me,” he said and stood up.
I felt a surge of panic. “What happens to me now?”
“I was only asked to rescue you, it is your decision what happens next. If you want to leave, I will
provide a ship.”
“What about the Vor ship that turned up?” I asked, remembering with a chill that terrible voice.
“The ship's captain is called Tratis. He will continue to hunt you.”
“And if I stay?”
“If you stay, I will continue to protect you.”
“I won’t help you to track down my sister.”
He paused for a second and then nodded.
I quickly weighed my options. If this really was the rebel leader, Raeth. Then there was no-one
more feared in the system, and I needed his protection from the Vor.
“I’ll stay.”
Raeth stared at me unblinking and the silence extended between us. When he spoke his words
were low and intense.
“You will not tell anyone on this ship who you are.” He leaned forward slightly, making sure the
effect of his words were felt and I was rooted to the spot by his intensity. “My mission comes before
everything, do not defy me. Follow me.”
The eyes of the crew followed me as we walked and I kept my gaze fixed to Raeth’s back. The
acrid smell of burnt metal was everywhere and wires ran the length of corridors. Teams of workers
crowded around terminals that had bursts of sparks flying from them.
We reached the landing bay and I gasped. It was cathedral-like in size, easily taking up a third of
the ship. The whole back wall was open to the stars and ships were darting in and out of the fizzing
blue forcefield. In a makeshift medical area, dozens of wounded fighters lay on thin beds.
“What happened here?” I asked.
“A battle.”
 We made our way through the hive of activity and Raeth did not acknowledge the crew who
stopped to watch him as we passed.
Nice to know it’s not just me that he’s rude to.
We approached the smaller ship that Raeth had used to save me and walked up the ramp into the
cold silence.
The ship's interior was made up of metal struts and walkways that lead to rugged battle stations.
This was clearly a fighter’s ship, was this where I wanted to be? I should be going away from danger,
whereas this ship and its captain seemed like it actively ran towards it.
A door slid open as we got to the end of a corridor. The ship might have been basic, but that was
not the case in this room. The small space was lit with a hazy glow that came from lights artfully
concealed in the ceiling. It held a full sized bed at one end with a long flat window above it. The
floor was polished metal and light poured from a doorway in the far wall that led to a bathroom.
I suddenly realized what was strange about the room. Everything was oversized, Vor sized.
“This is your room.”
Raeth stripped off his shirt, threw it into a corner and kicked off his boots.
“Yes.”
The light from the bathroom silhouetted his muscular body. He looked as though he had been
carved from a single block of marble. His shoulders were broad and his arms bulged. My eyes were
drawn to his stomach that was more like a ten pack.
“I knew it!” I hissed, whipping up the pistol and holding it with trembling hands.
A curious expression crossed Raeth’s face. “I heard that humans have strange reservations about
nudity. I need to bathe, so turn around, or go sleep in the crew quarters.”
If I was going to stay here, it was time to set some boundaries. “If you think that helping me
entitles you to something, you can forget it.”
“Are you taking about sex?”
His smile transformed his face, as if another person who still remembered how to laugh existed
just under the anger and intensity of the surface.
“I cannot lie that you have been distracting me.” He continued. “I’ve never been with a human
before, I would like to satisfy you.”
I gawked back at him. He spoke as casually as someone discussing the strange weather we had
been having.
“I’m not staying here with you. No sex either,” I croaked. A blatant lie judging by the flash of
warmth that I felt between my legs as I surveyed the strength in his body.
“Very well,” he said, pulling his shirt back on. “I will let you use this room.”
He motioned to the bathroom as he left. “You will find a shower inside, and fresh clothes.”
“Wait!” I said, desperate for more answers. “Why are you even helping me?”
“I owed a debt,” he said without stopping.
The door slid shut behind him and I dragged one of the heavy chairs across the room to block it. It
was rudimentary security, but it was all I had. I moved cautiously towards the bathroom, my hand still
clutching the pistol and I gasped as I walked in. Raeth certainly liked comfort. It was a palace of
white marble streaked with gold.
My body cried out for the shower and I stripped off my clothes and hopped in, giving a long groan
as the steaming water cascaded over me.
A few days ago, being anywhere near a Vor warrior would have been my worst nightmare. Now
Luna and I were on the run with our Vor protectors, hunted by powerful enemies.
 He was the rebel leader, the sword and shield against the Vor, and he said he would like to
satisfy me. The words sent a hot flush through my body that had nothing to do with the steaming water.
 6

RAETH

I WAS a fool to accept Zara’s terms, but her scent was in my nostrils and at that moment I would have
agreed to anything to keep her on the ship. Her combative attitude stirred something inside me and
even now I felt my cock strain against the fabric of my pants. I was sure that she wanted to mate with
me, but something had stopped her. If she had agreed I would have ravaged her.
Syclus and Draxos were studying information scrolling on a screen and muttering quietly to each
other as I stepped on to the command deck of the small ship.
“What do you have?” I asked.
“Orders from the Alliance, the ship has to return to the Alliance station for repairs,” Syclus said
carefully.
“Go on,” I prompted.
“Geniva has asked again where you went before the battle…”
Geniva was the head of the Rebel Alliance and she thought that the Alliance should negotiate with
the Vor. If she knew about Zara it would put the human in even greater danger.
“I will deal with Geniva,” I said, taking my seat in the pilot's chair.
“Do not let her seduce you again Raeth,” Draxos grunted without lifting his eyes from the screen.
He didn’t have to worry, my craving for Zara was growing stronger and I had no interest in
anyone else. But why had she hesitated? Perhaps her sexuality took some time to activate? I looked
forward to learning more about her.
“Do you really think we can find Zaden again?” asked Syclus, dragging me away from my
thoughts.
I paused before answering. I knew that Zara could lead us directly to Zaden, but I would not force
her to do it.
“Zaden is gone, we won’t find him now. If we can’t get the information we need from him, then
we have to find the only other person who has it.”
Syclus looked incredulous. “You’re not seriously suggesting what I think you are?”
“He would have the information,” said Draxos. “But getting to him? Very risky.”
It was a risk, and one that we would not have to take if I could get Zara to reveal her sister's
location.
“Risky? More like a suicide mission, he’s in a Vor prison.” Syclus exclaimed.
“Have you lost faith in me Syclus?”
“After your little vacation with the human, we have a right to know that you’re making decisions
for the right reasons.”
 Syclus was no coward, and after all of these years she had earned the right to speak her mind.
“What about you Draxos, do you feel the same?”
He turned and met my gaze unblinking. “The human is on board?”
I nodded.
“Plow who you like, the mission comes first,” he said.
“The mission comes first,” I repeated, an uneasy feeling in my gut.
“It’s our only option,” Draxos stated.
It wasn’t true, I was certain that Zara could provide her sister's location, but I had agreed not to
force her.
“Get us out of here,” I ordered.
The ship's engines roared and within moments we had soared out of the battleship. I needed to
start planning the mission, but all I could think about was the human female in my quarters.

DRAXOS AND I SAT ALONE ON THE COMMAND DECK LETTING THE SILENCE STRETCH BETWEEN US . WE
had spent several years together in a Vor prison and had become used to not speaking unless
absolutely necessary.
In the moment of quiet Zara invaded my thoughts. My mind wandered to when she pointed a gun at
me with the safety on. Her face had been amusing, a touch of fear, but she had hidden it all behind a
strong resolve. I wondered if she had been through any weapon training. She was going to need some
with the Vor hunting her.
“Raeth,” said Draxos, snapping me back to the present. “There’s a ship tracking us.”
“Show me.”
The image of a Vor ship appeared on the screen. It’s size was unmistakable, it was The Vargula,
the same ship that had tried to take Zara and almost destroyed me.
“It’s big. We can’t outrun it,” he stated, scratching at the gray stubble on his chin.
I stepped up and surveyed the image closely.
“You think they’re after you?” Draxos mused. “Another Vor captain who thinks he has big enough
balls to catch you?”
“Perhaps,” I lied.
I couldn’t tell Draxos that Zara was the real reason that the ship was tracking us. Letting him
believe that they were after me was easy enough considering how many bounty hunters had tried to
capture me over the years.
“Do you know much they are offering for you now?” he said with a toothy grin.
“No.”
“One-million credits,” he replied. “I should hand you in myself. 'Do you recognise the ship?”
“Yes, the captain is called Tratis. He’s a mean bastard.”
“They’ll be on us in ten hours,” said Draxos, answering the question before I had even asked it.
In ten hours they would catch up to us and try to take Zara, and if they couldn’t get her they would
simply destroy us.
“Syclus,” I said, pressing the intercom next to me. There was a muffled response that I assumed
was a curse and I clicked off the communication.
She arrived several moments later and flopped into the chair next to me, her dark green eyes
almost seeming black under heavy lids.
I pointed to the screen. “Vor ship tracking us.”
“Bounty hunters,” grunted Draxos.
“What do you want to do?” asked Syclus.
I pulled up a map of the system and a red dot glowed fainty near our position.
“Nebular is the closest planet to us,”
“We won’t make it there before the Vor catch us,” said Draxos.
“Then I’ll have to go there and get them to send a larger ship to defend us,” I said.
Syclus gave me a concerned look and I knew what she was thinking. Those who were in power on
Nebular never gave anything away for free, there would be a price to pay.
“We don’t have a choice Syclus, the Vor will be here soon. I will make the Nebulans give me a
larger ship, I’ll be back in time.”
“That’s what you said last time,” Syclus muttered.
“That’ll be a cozy trip with your human,” said Draxos, with a loud bark of laughter.
“I’m going alone,” I replied.
I would have preferred to have Zara with me, but if the Nebulans saw her they might just ask for
her as payment.
I made my way to my quarters, the anticipation of seeing her making blood pump down to my
groin.
 7

ZARA

HUMAN, do not leave your ship. You will be extracted by the Vor empire.
I awoke to find a huge figure standing over me and I lashed out, biting, snarling and scratching my
attacker.
“Zara, stop,” said Raeth.
I took several deep shuddering breaths. “I thought... I thought it was the voice from that ship, the
one that tried to take me.”
I knew that she was stronger than she appeared, she deserved to know the truth.
“The ship is called The Vargula, and its captain is Tratis. He is still hunting you.
“Where are they?” I looked out of the window expecting to see a flash of light and a Vor
battleship appear again.
“They will arrive soon. I do not know how, but they are tracking us… tracking you.”
“I have to leave,” I said, swinging my legs out of the bed.
Raeth sat down on one of the chairs, his face unreadable. “You do not seem to understand your
position at all.”
“Well why don’t you explain it to me then?” I snapped.
“You are free to go but if you do, they will chase you. Stay here and do not do anything foolish.”
“I can outrun them, go and hide somewhere far away.”
“Do you know what happens to human females who are captured by the Vor?” he asked quietly.
I had heard stories, but they were all vague. All I knew is that Vor warriors hunted human women
and took them away.
“Whatever you have heard, Zara, it’s probably worse. All captured human females are taken to
the palace where the emperor gives a reward to the warrior that captures them. They live in the
palace, serving his every need and the needs of his closest advisors.”
A shudder rippled through me as I thought of all of the women that had to endure that fate.
“I would make them regret trying to make me serve anyone.”
“I believe you would. But I do not want this for you.”
His voice was softer and for a second time I saw a glimpse of the person under his hard exterior. I
didn’t know if I trusted him yet, but I could feel my curiosity about him growing.
“I have to go and get help for us, but I promise I will return. Stay here, you will be safe with the
crew, I have trusted them with my life many times and I trust them with yours.”
“Can I come with you?” I asked. The thought of staying with his crew did not appeal at all. Him, I
trusted, barely.
 “I would like that,” he replied and I caught a brief hungry look of desire in his eyes that gave me a
thrill. “But it is not possible.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“Yes, the Nebulans are difficult, but we need help. I will return. Stay here.”
Just like that, the softness was gone from his expression and the hard rebel leader was back. I
should have been glad, he was the one I needed to protect me.

HE ’ S NOT COMING BACK. I THOUGHT FOR THE HUNDREDTH TIME.

Raeth had said that his mission was dangerous, what if he didn’t make it back? Was I just going to
sit here and wait for the Vor to find me?
I thought constantly of my sister. Raeth had offered protection, but if he had gone I had to take the
opportunity to get away and find her.
I slipped out of the room, keeping the small pistol pointed out in front of me. The landing bay was
deserted and I crept into the cramped cockpit of a small ship and activated its pre-flight controls.
The slim landing bay doors opened in front of me, revealing the inky backdrop of space, stitched
with stars. I took a deep breath and focused on stopping my hands from shaking. I had no idea where I
was going, but it felt right to be leaving.
I pushed the thruster controls forwards and warning lights blared on the console in front of me.
The huge airlock began to close as I moved towards it. I frantically tried to pull back on the thrust
lever, silently pleading the small craft to stop before I was crushed against the thick metal door.
The nose of the ship stopped inches from the doors and I climbed out and leaned against the cool
metal breathing heavily.
“You’re smaller than I thought you would be,” a voice called out.
The tallest female I had ever seen walked out from the front of the ship and peered down at me.
Her voice had a deep resonance to it, and her green eyes were dark pools.
I moved my hand towards the pistol in my waistband.
“You won’t need that, I’m not here to hurt you.”
If she did want to hurt me, I doubted I could even raise the pistol in time. Her long powerful limbs
held a coiled energy, like a viper waiting to strike.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Syclus, and you look like you were about to steal one of my ships. I can’t let you do that.”
“You could have killed me,” I replied.
“We might all die soon, so let's go get a drink.”
“What?”
“We. Are. Going. To. Die,” she said, saying each word clearly as if I couldn’t understand my own
language.
“Let’s. Go. Get. A. Drink” She finished, tipping an imaginary glass to her lips. Then she let out a
great bark of laughter at my confused expression and set off.
Raeth said I could trust the crew, so I trailed behind her through the ship.
“I have been waiting to meet you human, I wanted to see what Raeth found so interesting about
you.”
We passed the command deck and I saw a massive figure sitting in one of the huge chairs. There
was no mistaking that it was a Vor male.
“There’s a Vor on the command deck,” I said in a hushed tone.
“His name is Draxos. Don’t worry about him. He only likes to speak Vor, he probably thinks that
any other language dishonors his tongue or something.”
We finally emerged onto the top level of the ship and I saw that the whole area was one large
open space. The human ships that I was used to, were full of small corridors and cramped areas, not
like this. The ceiling above me was made from solid struts of steel with huge glass panels set in
between them. The view out onto the stars was breathtaking. Couches, tables and chairs were dotted
around and the place smelled like alcohol. It had the feel of a dive bar on Earth, but somehow even
more sticky.
“Let's get drunk,” said Syclus.
What? This was certainly not what I had expected. I thought that the crew would all be like Raeth,
quiet and serious, dedicated to their mission.
“I don’t really drink,” I said hesitantly.
“Don’t worry, human,” she smiled. “We'll have you back in time to warm Raeth’s bed.” She threw
herself into a chair, planted her boots on another and grabbed a tablet from a table and scrolled
through a list, jabbing several times at the screen.
“My name is Zara, not human, and for your information I’m not warming Raeth’s anything,” I said
sitting down.
Syclus’s eyebrows raised so high that they threatened to disappear into her dark green hairline.
“So he hasn't seduced you then?” She smiled wickedly and let out a full-belly laugh.
An automated trolly rattled over carrying a full tray of full grasses and she plucked two drinks
from them.
“It makes me happy to hear that the great Aran Kai can be defeated at something,” she said as she
handed me a glass. “This one’s Vor brandy, try it.”
As much as I tried to stay on my guard, Syclus had an effortless charm that was disarming.
“Slawncheisstoinche,” she yelled, clinking my glass.
“Slownch…?”
“Slawncheisstoinche” she repeated pressing the cup to her lips and throwing her head back. “It’s
an old tradition from my planet. It means ‘Good luck not dying’.”
With the Vor after me, I could use some luck.
“Slownchesstoonch,” I said downing the glass.
The brandy burned my mouth and throat instantly, and then as quickly as it had started it was gone,
replaced with a blissful coolness and a faint aroma of blueberries.
Syclus slammed her glass back on the small table. “Good, right?”
I laughed and wiped some tears from my eyes. “Surprising.”
“Now, what's next?” She looked hungrily through the dozens of drinks on the trolley, finally
plucking two tall glasses with layers of brightly colored liquid.
“I know this one!” I said, my head already feeling light. “We call it a Dinarian mistress.”
“That's more polite than what I call it,” she said, tossing the garnish aside and taking a long drink.
Dozens of questions drifted onto the tip of my tongue, but the strong drinks were already scattering
my thoughts.
“Are you a Vor woman?” I asked.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
Europe. He could have given authentic pictures of the laws and
customs of the Goths, Franks, and Burgundians ... a full portraiture
of the great apostle of the Germanic races, Ulfilas, and the secret
causes of his and their devotion to the Arian form of Christianity; and
he could have recorded the Gothic equivalents of the mythological
tales in the Scandinavian Edda and the story of the old Runes and
their relation to the Mœso-Gothic alphabet. All these details and a
hundred more, full of interest to science, to art, to literature, Sidonius
might have preserved for us had his mind been as open as was that
of Herodotus to the manifold impressions made by picturesque and
strange nationalities.”
It was doubtless fortunate for the literary reputation of Sidonius
that his father-in-law, Avitus, came to be emperor. The reign of Avitus
was short, but he had time to give to his brilliant son-in-law a position
as Court poet or poet-laureate, while it was probably due to the
imperial influence that the Senate decreed the erection (during the
lifetime of the poet) of the brass statue of Sidonius, which was
placed between the two libraries of Trajan. These libraries,
containing the one Greek and the other Latin authors, stood between
the column of Trajan and the Basilica Ulpia. Sidonius describes his
statue as follows:

Cum meis poni statuam perennem

Nerva Trajanus titulis videret,
Inter auctores utriusque fixam Bibliothecæ.
(Sidonius, Ex., ix., 16.)

Nil vatum prodest adjectum laudibus illud

Ulpia quod rutilat porticus ære meo.
(Sidonius, Carm., viii., 7, 8.)[6]

(Since Nerva Trajanus decreed the erection of a permanent

statue, which is inscribed with the records of my honours, and is
placed between the authors of the two libraries.
The fact that the entrance to the Ulpian Library is aglow with the
bronze of my statue, can add nothing to the laurels of other poets.)
 In the opinion of Hodgkin, the books in these two collections in the
Bibliotheca Ulpia may very well have been of more importance to
later generations than those of the library of Alexandria. The books
from Trajan’s libraries were, according to Vopiscus, transported in all
or in part to the Baths of Diocletian. Hodgkin understands that,
between 300 and 450, they were restored to their original home.[7]
In the year 537 a.d., the rule of the Goths in Italy, which had been
established by Theodoric in 493, was practically brought to a close
by the victories of Belisarius, the general of the Eastern Empire, and,
thirty years later, the destruction of the Gothic State was completed
by the invasion of the Lombards. With the Lombards in possession
of Northern Italy, and the Vandals, in a series of campaigns against
the armies from Constantinople, overrunning the southern portions of
the peninsula, the social organisation of the country must have been
almost destroyed, and the civilisation which had survived from the
old Empire, while never entirely disappearing, was doubtless in large
part submerged. A certain continuity of Roman rule and of Roman
intellectual influence was, however, preserved through the growing
power of the Church, which was already claiming the inheritance of
the Empire, and which, as early as 590, under the lead of Pope
Gregory the Great, succeeded in making good its claims to
ecclesiastical supremacy throughout the larger part of Europe. In its
control of the consciences of rulers, the Church frequently, in fact,
secured a domination that was by no means limited to things
spiritual.
The history of books in manuscript and of the production and
distribution of literature in Europe from the beginning of the work of
S. Benedict to the time when the printing-press of Gutenberg
revolutionised the methods of book-making, a period covering about
nine centuries, may be divided into three stages. During the first, the
responsibility for the preservation of the old-time literature and for
keeping alive some continuity of intellectual life, rested solely with
the monasteries, and the work of multiplying and of distributing such
books as had survived was carried on by the monks, and by them
only. During the second stage, the older universities, the
organisation of which had gradually been developed from schools
(themselves chiefly of monastic origin), became centres of
intellectual activity and shared with the monasteries the work of
producing books. The books emanating from the university scribes
were, however, for the most part restricted to a few special classes,
classes which had, as a rule, not been produced in the monasteries,
and, as will be noted in a later chapter, the university booksellers
(stationarii or librarii) were in the earlier periods not permitted to
engage in any general distribution of books. With the third stage of
manuscript literature, book-producing and bookselling machinery
came into existence in the towns, and the knowledge of reading
being no longer confined to the cleric or the magister, books were
prepared for the use of the larger circles of the community, and to
meet the requirements of such circles were, to an extent increasing
with each generation, written in the tongue of the people.
The first period begins with the foundation by S. Benedict, in 529,
of the monastery of Monte Cassino, and by Cassiodorus, in 531, of
that of Vivaria or Viviers, and continues until the last decade of the
twelfth century, when we find the earliest record of an organised
book-business in the universities of Bologna and Paris. The
beginning of literary work in the universities, to which I refer as
indicating a second stage, did not, however, bring to an end, and, in
fact, for a time hardly lessened, the production of books in the
monasteries.
The third stage of book-production in Europe may be said to begin
with the first years of the fifteenth century, when the manuscript trade
of Venice and Florence became important, when the book-men or
publishers of Paris, outside of the university, had developed a
business in the collecting, manifolding, and selling of manuscripts,
and when manuscripts first find place in the schedules of the goods
sold at the fairs of Frankfort and Nordlingen. The costliness of the
skilled labour required for the production of manuscripts, and the
many obstacles and difficulties in the way of their distribution,
caused the development of the book-trade to proceed but slowly. It
was the case, nevertheless, and particularly in Germany, that a very
considerable demand for literature of certain classes had been
developed among the people before the close of the manuscript
period, a demand which was being met with texts produced in
constantly increasing quantities and at steadily lessening cost. When
the printing-press arrived it found, therefore, already in existence a
wide-spread literary interest and a popular demand for books, a
demand which, with the immediate cheapening of books, was, of
course, enormously increased. The production of books in
manuscript came to a close, not with the invention of the printing-
press in 1450, but with the time when printing had become generally
introduced, about twenty-five years later.
It was in the monasteries that were preserved such fragments of
the classic literature as had escaped the general devastation of Italy;
and it was to the labours of the monks of the West, and particularly
to the labours of the monks of S. Benedict, that was due the
preservation for the Middle Ages and for succeeding generations of
the remembrance and the influence of the literature of classic times.
For a period of more than six centuries, the safety of the literary
heritage of Europe, one may say of the world, depended upon the
scribes of a few dozen scattered monasteries.
The Order of S. Benedict was instituted in 529, and the monastery
of Monte Cassino, near Naples, founded by him in the same year,
exercised for centuries an influence of distinctive importance upon
the literary interests of the Church, of Italy, and of the world. This
monastery (which still exists) is not far from Subiaco, the spot
chosen by S. Benedict for his first retreat. It was in the monastery of
Subiaco (founded many years afterwards) that was done, nearly a
thousand years later, the first printing in Italy. The Rule of S.
Benedict, comprising the regulations for the government of his Order,
contained a specific instruction that a certain number of hours in
each day were to be devoted to labour in the scriptorium. The monks
who were not yet competent to work as scribes were to be instructed
by the others. Scribe work was to be accepted in place of an equal
number of hours given to manual labour out-of-doors, while the
skilled scribes, whose work was of special importance as instructors
or in the scriptorium, were to be freed from a certain portion of their
devotional exercises or observances. The monasteries of the
Benedictines were for centuries more numerous, more wealthy, and
more influential than those of any other Order, and this provision of a
Rule which directed the actions, controlled the daily lives, and
inspired the purposes of thousands of earnest workers among the
monks of successive generations, must have exercised a most
noteworthy influence on the history of literary production in Europe. It
is not too much to say that it was S. Benedict who provided the
“copy” which a thousand years later was to supply the presses of
Gutenberg, Aldus, Froben, and Stephanus.
I have not been able to find in the narratives of the life of S.
Benedict any record showing the origin of his interest in literature, an
interest which was certainly exceptional for an ecclesiastic of the
sixth century. It seems very probable, however, that Benedict’s
association with Cassiodorus had not a little to do with the literary
impetus given to the work of the Benedictines. Cassiodorus, who, as
Chancellor of King Theodoric, had taken an active part in the
government of the Gothic kingdom, passed the last thirty years of his
life first as a monk and later as abbot in the monastery of Vivaria, or
Viviers, in Calabria, which he had himself founded in 531.
Cassiodorus is generally classed by the Church chronicles as a
Benedictine, and his monastery is referred to by Montalembert as
the second of the Benedictine foundations. Hodgkin points out,
however, that the Rule adopted by the monks of Viviers, or
prescribed for them by its founder, was not that of S. Benedict, but
was drawn from the writings of Cassian, the founder of western
monachism, who had died a century before.[8] The two Rules were,
however, fully in accord with each other in spirit, while for the idea of
using the convent as a place of literary toil and theological training,
Benedict was indebted to Cassiodorus. “At a very early date in the
history of their Order,” says Hodgkin, “the Benedictines, influenced
probably by the example of the monastery of Vivaria, commenced
that long series of services to the cause of literature which they have
never wholly intermitted. Instead of accepting the ... formula from
which some scholars have contended that Cassiodorus was a
Benedictine, we should perhaps be rather justified in maintaining that
Benedict, or at least his immediate followers, were Cassiodorians.”[9]
 It was the fortune of Cassiodorus to serve as a connecting link
between the world of classic Rome and that of the Middle Ages. He
saw the direction and control of the community pass from the
monarchs and the leaders of armies to the Church and to the
monasteries, and he was himself an active agent in helping to bring
about such transfer. Born in 479, only three years after the overthrow
of the last of the Emperors of the West, he grew up under the rule of
Odovacar, the Herulian. While still a youth, he had seen the Herulian
kingdom destroyed by Theodoric, and he had lived to mourn over the
ruins of the realm founded by the Goth, which he had himself helped
to govern. He saw his beloved Italy taken possession of by the
armies of Narses and Belisarius from the east, and a little later
overrun by the undisciplined hordes of the Lombards from the north.
The first great schism between the Eastern and the Western
Churches began during his boyhood and terminated before, as
Abbot of Vivaria, it became necessary for him to take a decided part
on the one side or the other. A Greek by ancestry, a Roman by
training, the experience of Cassiodorus included work and
achievements as statesman, orator, scholar, author, and ecclesiastic.
He had witnessed the extinction of the Roman Senate, of which both
his father and himself had been members; the practical abolition of
the Consulate, an honour to which he had also attained; and the
close of the schools of philosophy in Athens, with the doctrines of
which he, almost alone in his generation of Italians, was familiar. He
had done much to maintain in the Court and throughout the kingdom
of Theodoric, such standard of scholarly interests and of literary
appreciation as was practicable with the resources available; and, in
like manner, he brought with him to his monastery a scholarly
enthusiasm for classic literature, of which literature he may not
unnaturally have felt himself to be almost the sole surviving
representative. It is difficult to over-estimate the extent of the service
rendered by Cassiodorus to literature and to later generations in
initiating the training of monks as scribes, and in putting into their
hands for their first work in the scriptorium the masterpieces of
classic literature. He belonged both to the world of ancient Rome,
which he had outlived, and to that of the Middle Ages, the thought
and work of which he helped to shape. With the close of the official
career of Cassiodorus as Secretary of State for the Gothic kingdom
of Italy, the history of ancient Europe may, for the purpose of my
narrative, be considered to end. With the consecration of
Cassiodorus, as Abbot of the monastery of Vivaria, (which took place
about 550, when he was seventy years of age), and the instituting by
him of the first European scriptorium, I may begin the record of the
production of books during the Middle Ages.
 CHAPTER I.
THE MAKING OF BOOKS IN THE MONASTERIES.

I HAVE used for the heading of the chapter the term “the making of
books” rather than “literary work,” because the service rendered
by the earlier monastic scribes (a service of essential importance for
the intellectual life of the world) consisted chiefly, as has been
indicated, not in the production of original literature, but in the
reproduction and preservation of the literature that had been
inherited from earlier writers,—writers whose works had been
accepted as classics. While it was the case that in this literary labour
it was the Benedictines who for centuries rendered the most
important service, the first of the European monasteries in which
such labour was carried on as a part of the prescribed routine or rule
of the monastic life was that of Vivaria or Viviers, founded by
Cassiodorus, which was never formally associated with the
Benedictine Order, and which had, in fact, adopted, in place of the
Benedictine Rule, a rule founded on the teachings of Cassian, who
had died early in the fifth century. The work done, under the
instructions of Cassiodorus, by the scribes of Viviers, served as an
incentive and an example for Monte Cassino, the monastery founded
by S. Benedict, while the scriptorium instituted in Monte Cassino was
accepted as a model by the long series of later Benedictine
monasteries which during the succeeding seven centuries became
centres of literary activity.
After the destruction of the Gothic kingdom of Italy, it was with
these monasteries that rested the intellectual future of Europe.
Mankind was, for the time at least, to be directed and influenced, not
so much by royal chancellors or prætorian guards, as by the monks
preaching from their cells and by the monastic scribes distributing
the world’s literature from the scriptorium.
 Cassiodorus and S. Benedict.—In the literary history
of Europe, the part played by Cassiodorus was so important and the
service rendered by him was so distinctive, that it seems pertinent
for the purposes of this story to present in some detail the record of
his life and work. As is indicated by the name by which he is known
in history, Cassiodorus was of Greek lineage, his family belonging to
the Greek city of Scyllacium in Southern Italy. His full name was
Magnus Aurelius Cassiodorus Senator. His ancestors had, for
several generations, held under the successive rulers of Italy
positions of trust and honour, and the family ranked with the
patricians. The father of the author and abbot, usually referred to as
Cassiodorus the third, was finance minister under Odovacar, and
when the Herulian King had been overcome and slain by Theodoric,
the minister was skilful enough to make himself necessary to the
Gothic conqueror, from whom he received various important posts,
and by whom he was finally appointed Prætorian Prefect. The
Cassiodorus with whom this study is concerned, known as
Cassiodorus the fourth, was born about 479, or three years after the
Gothic conquest.[10] He began his official career as early as twenty,
and it was while holding, at this age, the position of Consilarius, that
he brought himself to the favourable attention of Theodoric by means
of an eloquent panegyric spoken in praise of that monarch.
Theodoric appointed him Quæstor, an office which made him the
mouth-piece of the sovereign. To the Quæstor belonged the duty of
conducting the official correspondence of the Court, of receiving
ambassadors, and of replying in fitting harangues to their addresses,
so that he was at once foreign secretary and Court orator. He also
had the responsibility of giving a final revision to all the laws which
received the signature of the King, and of seeing that these were
properly worded and did not conflict with previous enactments.[11]
Theodoric, who had received what little education he possessed
from Greek instructors in Constantinople, was said never to have
mastered Latin, and he doubtless found the services of his eloquent
and scholarly minister very convenient.
 It was the contention of Theodoric that his kingdom represented
the natural continuation of the Roman Empire, and that he was
himself the legitimate successor of the emperors. He took as his
official designation not Rex Italiæ, but Gothorum et Romanorum
Rex. This contention was fully upheld by the Quæstor, who felt
himself to be the representative at once of the official authority of the
new kingdom and of the literary prestige of the old Empire, and who
did what was in his power to preserve in Ravenna the classical
traditions of old Rome and to make the Court the centre of literary
influence and activity. Theodoric and his Goths had accepted the
creed of the Arians, but the influence of his minister, who was a
Christian of the Athanasian or Trinitarian faith, was sufficient to
preserve a spirit of toleration throughout the kingdom. It is to
Cassiodorus that is due what was probably the first official utterance
of toleration that Europe had known, an utterance that in later
European history was to be so largely set at nought: Religionem
imperare non possumus, quia nemo cogitur ut credat invitus.[12] [We
must not enforce (acceptance of) a creed, since no one can think or
can believe against his will.] It is not one of the least of the services
of Cassiodorus that he should at this early date, when the bitterness
of controversy was active in the Church, have been able to set a
standard of wise and Christian toleration. His action had a good
effect later in his own monastery and in the monasteries whose work
was modelled on that of Viviers. It was only in monastic centres like
Viviers and Monte Cassino, where Christian influence and
educational work were held to be of more importance than
theological issues, that literary activity became possible, and it was
only in such monasteries that labour was expended in preserving the
writings of “pagan” (that is, of classic) authors.
In 514, Cassiodorus became Consul, a title which, while no longer
standing for any authority, was still held to be one of the highest
honours, and in 515 he received the title of patrician. In 519, he
published, under the title of Chronicon, an abstract of history from
the deluge to the year 519. Hodgkin points out that in his record of
events of the fifth century, a very large measure of favourable, or
rather of partial attention is given to the annals of the Goths. Shortly
after the publication of the Chronicon, Cassiodorus began work on
his History of the Goths, which was finally completed in twelve
books, and the chief purpose of which was to vindicate the claims of
the Goths to rank among the historic nations of antiquity, by bringing
them into connection with Greece and Rome, and by making the
origin of Gothic history Roman. This history of Cassiodorus is known
only by tradition, not a single copy of it having been preserved. The
system of scribe-work in the monasteries, to which we owe nearly all
of the old-world literature that has come down to us, did not prove
adequate to preserve the greatest work of its founder. A treatise on
the origin of the Goths by a later writer named Jordæus, concerning
whom little is known, is avowedly based upon the history of
Cassiodorus, and is the principal source of information concerning
the character of this history.
At the time of the death of Theodoric, Cassiodorus was holding the
important place of Master of the Offices, a post which combined
many of the duties that would to-day be discharged by a Home
Secretary, a Secretary of War, and a Postmaster-General. Under the
regency of Queen Amalasuentha, Cassiodorus received his final
official honour in his appointment as Prætorian Prefect. In the
collection of letters published under the title of Variæ, Cassiodorus
gives accounts of the work done by him in these various official
stations, and these letters present vivid and interesting pictures of
the methods of the administration of the kingdom, and also throw
light upon many of its relations with foreign powers.
Cassiodorus continued to do service as minister for the
successors of Amalasuentha, Athalaric, Theodadad, and Witigis, and
retired from official responsibility only a few months before the
capture of Ravenna by Belisarius, in 540, brought the Ostrogothic
monarchy to an end. At the time of the entry of the Greek army,
Cassiodorus, now a veteran of sixty years, was in retirement in his
monastery in Bruttii (the modern Calabria). It was doubtless because
of the absence of Cassiodorus from the capital, that no mention is
made of him in the narrative of the campaign written by Procopius
the historian, who, as secretary to Belisarius, entered Rome with the
latter after the victories over Witigis.
 Cassiodorus must have possessed very exceptional adaptability of
character, not to say elasticity of conscience, to be able, during a
period extending over nearly half a century, to retain the favour of so
many of the successive rulers of Italy and apparently to make his
services necessary to each one of them. It is certain, however, that
Italy benefited largely by the fact that through the various contests
and changes of monarchs, it had been possible to preserve a certain
continuity of executive policy and of administrative methods. The
further fact that the “perpetual” or at least the continuing minister was
at once a Greek and a Roman, and not only a statesman but a
scholar, and that he had succeeded in preserving through all the
devastations of civil wars and of foreign invasions a great collection
of classic books and a persistent (even though restricted) interest in
classic literature, exercised an enormous influence upon the culture
of Europe for centuries to come. The career of Cassiodorus had, as
we have seen, been varied and honourable. It was, however, his
exceptional fortune to be able to render the most important and the
most distinctive service of his life after his life’s work had apparently
been completed.
Shortly after his withdrawal to Bruttii, and when, as said, he was
already more than sixty years old, he retired to his monastery,
Vivaria, and during the thirty-six years of activity that remained for
him, he not only completed a number of important literary
productions of his own, but he organised the literary work of the
monastery scriptorium, which served as a model for that of Monte
Cassino, and, through Monte Cassino, for the long series of
Benedictine monasteries that came into existence throughout
Europe. It was the hand of Cassiodorus which gave the literary
impetus to the Benedictine Order, and it was from his magnificent
collection of manuscripts, rescued from the ruins of the libraries of
Italy, that was supplied material for the pens of thousands of
monastic scribes.
After his retirement to Bruttii, Cassiodorus founded a second
monastery, known as Mons Castellius, the work of which was
planned for a more austere class of hermits than those who had
associated themselves together at Vivaria. Of both monasteries he
retained the practical control, and, according to Trithemius (whose
opinion is accepted by Montalembert) of Vivaria he became
abbot.[13] Hodgkin, while himself citing the extract from Trithemius,
thinks it possible that Cassiodorus never formally became abbot, but
says that the direction and supervision of the work of the two
monasteries rested in any case in his hands.[14]
His treatise on the Nature of the Soul (De Anima) was probably
completed just before he began his monastic life, and was itself an
evidence of the change in the direction of his thoughts and of his
ideals. Cassiodorus had now done with politics. As Hodgkin points
out, the dream of his life had been to build up an independent Italian
State, strong with the strength of the Goths, and wise with the
wisdom of the Romans. It is evident that he also felt himself charged
with a special responsibility in preserving for later generations the
literature and the learning of the classic world. With the destruction
of the Gothic kingdom, that dream had been scattered to the winds.
The only institutions which retained a continuity of organisation were
those belonging to the Church, and it was through the Church that
must be preserved for later generations the thought and the
scholarship of antiquity. It was with a full understanding of this
change in the nature of his responsibilities, that Cassiodorus decided
to consecrate his old age to religious labours and to a work even
more important than any of his political achievements: the
preservation, by the pens of monastic copyists, of the Christian
Scriptures, of the writings of the early Fathers, and of the great
works of classical antiquity.
Some years before his retirement from Ravenna, Cassiodorus had
endeavoured to induce Pope Agapetus (535-536) to found a school
of theology and Christian literature at Rome, modelled on the plan of
the schools of Alexandria and Nisibis. The confusion consequent on
the invasion of Italy by Belisarius had prevented the fulfilment of this
scheme. The aged statesman was now, however, planning to
accomplish, by means of his two monasteries, a similar educational
work.
 Hodgkin summarises the aims of earlier monasticism, (aims which
were most fully carried out in the monasteries of the East and of
Africa,) as follows: In the earlier days of monasticism, men like the
hermits of the Thebaïd had thought of little else but mortifying the
flesh by vigils and fastings, and withdrew from all human voices in
order to enjoy an ecstatic communion with their Maker. The life in
common of monks like those of Nitria and Lerinum had chastened
some of the extravagances of these lonely enthusiasts, while still
keeping in view their main purpose. S. Jerome, in his cell at
Bethlehem, had shown what great results might be obtained for the
Church of all ages from the patient literary toil of one religious
recluse. And finally, S. Benedict, in that Rule of his, which was for
centuries to be the code of monastic Christendom, had sanctified
work as one of the most effectual preservatives of the bodily and
spiritual health of the ascetic.
“It was the glory of Cassiodorus,” says Hodgkin,[15] “that he first
and pre-eminently insisted on the expediency of including intellectual
labour in the sphere of monastic duties.... This thought [may we not
say this divinely suggested thought?] in the mind of Cassiodorus was
one of infinite importance to the human race. Here, on the one hand,
were the vast armies of monks, whom both the unsettled state of the
times and the religious ideas of the age were driving irresistibly into
the cloister; and who, when immured there with only theology to
occupy their minds, became, as the great cities of the East knew
only too well, preachers of discord and mad fanaticism. Here, on the
other hand, were the accumulated stores of two thousand years of
literature, sacred and profane, the writings of Hebrew prophets,
Greek philosophers, Latin rhetoricians, perishing for want of men
with leisure to transcribe them. The luxurious Roman noble with his
slave amanuenses multiplying copies of his favourite authors for his
own and his friends’ libraries, was an almost extinct existence. With
every movement of barbarian troops over Italy, whether those
barbarians called themselves the men of Witigis or of Justinian,
some towns were being sacked, some precious manuscripts were
perishing from the world. Cassiodorus perceived that the boundless,
the often wearisome leisure of the convent might be profitably spent
in arresting this work of denudation, in preserving for future ages the
intellectual treasure which must otherwise inevitably have perished.
That this was one of the great services rendered by the monasteries
to the human race, the most superficial student has learned, but not
all who have learned it know that the monks’ first decided impulse in
this direction was derived from Cassiodorus.”
The German biographer of Cassiodorus, Franz, uses similar
language:
Das Verdienst, zuerst die Pflege der Wissenschaften in den
Bereich der Aufgaben des Klosterlichen Lebens aufgenommen zu
haben, kann man mit vollem Rechte für Cassiodorus in Anspruch
nehmen.[16]
In the account given by Cassiodorus of the scriptorium of his
monastery, he describes, with an enthusiasm which ought to have
been contagious, the noble work done there by the antiquarius[17]:
“He may fill his mind with the Scriptures while copying the sayings of
the Lord; with his fingers he gives life to men and arms against the
wiles of the devil. As the antiquarius copies the words of Christ, so
many wounds does he inflict upon Satan. What he writes in his cell
will be scattered far and wide over distant provinces. Man multiplies
the words of Heaven, and, if I may dare so to speak, the three
fingers of his right hand are made to express the utterances of the
Holy Trinity. The fast travelling reed writes down the holy words and
thus avenges the malice of the Wicked One, who caused a reed to
be used to smite the head of the Saviour.” The passage here quoted
refers only to the work of the copyists of the Christian Scriptures.
There are other references, however, in the same work to indicate
that the activity of the scriptorium was not confined to these, but was
also employed on secular literature.[18]
The devotion and application of the monks produced in the course
of years a class of scribes whose work in the transcribing and
illuminating of manuscripts far surpassed in perfection and beauty
the productions of the copyists of classic Rome. In the monasteries
north of the Alps the work of the scribes was, for the earlier
centuries, devoted principally to the production of copies of missals
and other books of devotion and of portions of the Scriptures. In Italy,
however, where classical culture never entirely disappeared,
attention continued to be given to the transcription of the Latin texts
of which any manuscripts had been preserved, and it was these
transcripts of the monks of Cassiodorus and S. Benedict that gave
the “copy” for the first editions of Cicero, Virgil, and the other classic
writers, produced by the earliest printers of Germany and Italy.
Cassiodorus took pains to emphasise the importance of binding
the sacred codices in covers worthy of the beauty of their contents,
following the example of the householder in the parable, who
provided wedding garments for all who came to the supper of his
son. One pattern volume had been prepared containing samples of
various sorts of covers, from which the scribe might choose that
which pleased him best. The abbot had also provided, to help the
nightly toil of the scriptorium, mechanical lamps of some ingenious
construction which appears to have made them self-trimming and to
have insured a continuously sufficient supply of oil. The labour of the
scribes was regulated on bright days by sun-dials, and on cloudy
days and during the hours of the night by water-clocks.
In order to set an example of literary diligence to his monks, and to
be able to sympathise with the difficulties of scribe work,
Cassiodorus himself transcribed (probably from the translation of
Jerome) the Psalter, the Prophets, and the Epistles. In addition to his
labours as a transcriber, Cassiodorus did a large amount of work as
an original author and as a compiler. According to the judgment of
Migne, Franz, and Hodgkin, the importance of his original writings
varied very considerably, and is by no means to be estimated in
proportion to their bulk. One of the most considerable of these was
his great commentary on the Psalms, in the text of which he was
able to discover refutations of all the heresies that had thus far
racked the Church, together with the rudiments of all the sciences
which had become known to the world. This was followed by a
commentary on the Epistles and by a history of the Church, the latter
having been undertaken in co-operation with his friend Epiphanius.
This history, known as the Historia Tripartita, is said to have had a
larger circulation than any other of the author’s works. A fourth work,
which gives more of the personality of the writer, was an educational
treatise entitled, Institutiones Divinarum et Humanarum Lectionum.
In the first part of this treatise, which bore the title of De Institutione
Divinarum Litterarum, the author gives an account of the
organisation of his scriptorium. In the second division of the treatise,
entitled De Artibus ac Disciplinis Liberalium Litterarum, the author
states his view of the relative importance of the four liberal arts,
Grammar, Rhetoric, Logic, and Mathematics, the last named of
which he divides into the four “disciplines” of Arithmetic, Geometry,
Music, and Astronomy. Geometry and Astronomy occupy together
one page, Arithmetic and Music each two pages, Grammar two
pages, Rhetoric six pages, while to Logic are devoted eighteen
pages. The final production of his industrious life was a treatise
called De Orthographia, which was completed when its author was
ninety-three years old, and which was planned expressly to further
the work of the monastic scribes in collecting and correcting the
codices of ancient books.
The death of Cassiodorus occurred in 575, in the ninety-sixth year
of his age. An inheritor of the traditions of imperial Rome,
Cassiodorus had been able, in a career extending over nearly a
century, to be of signal service to his country under a series of
foreign rulers. He had succeeded, through his personal influence
with these rulers, in maintaining for Italy an organisation based on
Roman precedents, and in preserving for the society of the capital an
interest in the preservation and cultivation of classic literature. When
the political institutions of Italy had been shattered and the very
existence of civilisation was imperilled, he had transferred his
services to the Church, recognising, with the adaptability which was
the special characteristic of the man, that with the Church now
rested the hopes of any continuity of organised society, of intellectual
interest, of civilisation itself. He brought to the Church the advantage
of exceptional executive ability and of long official experience, and
he also brought a large measure of scholarship and an earnest zeal
for literary and educational interests. It is not too much to say that
the continuity of the thought and civilisation of the ancient world with
that of the Middle Ages was due, more than to any other one man, to
the life and labours of Cassiodorus.
 S. Benedict.—The Life of S. Benedict, written by Pope Gregory I.
(who was born in 543, the year of the death of the saint), was for
centuries one of the most popular books circulated in Europe. The
full title is: Vita et Miracula Venerabilis Benedicti conditoris, vel
Abbatis Monasterii; quod appellatur arcis Provinciæ Campaniæ.
“The Life and Miracles of the Venerable Benedict, Founder and
Abbot of the Monastery which is called (of) the Citadel of the
Province of Campania.” This biography was, later, translated by
Pope Zacharias from the original Latin into Greek.
The great achievement of Benedict was the one literary product of
his life, the Regula. It comprises seventy-three short chapters,
probably not designed by the author for use beyond the bounds of
the communities under his own immediate supervision. It proved to
be the thing for which the world of religious and thoughtful men was
then longing, a complete code of monastic duty. By a strange
parallelism, almost in the very year in which the great Emperor
Justinian was codifying the results of seven centuries of Roman
secular legislation for the benefit of the judges and the statesmen of
the new Europe, Benedict, on his lonely mountain top, was
composing his code for the regulation of the daily life of the great
civilisers of Europe for seven centuries to come.
The Rule of S. Benedict, Chap. 48. Concerning Daily Manual
Labour.—“Idleness is the enemy of the soul: hence brethren ought at
certain seasons to occupy themselves with manual labour, and again
at certain hours with holy reading. Between Easter and the calends
of October let them apply themselves to reading from the fourth hour
until the sixth hour.... From the calends of October to the beginning
of Lent, let them apply themselves to reading until the second hour.
During Lent, let them apply themselves to reading from morning until
the end of the third hour, and in these days of Lent, let them receive
a book apiece from the library and read it straight through. These
books are to be given out at the beginning of Lent.”[19]
This simple regulation, uttered by one the power and extent of
whose far-reaching influence have rarely been equalled among men,
gave an impulse to study that grew with the growth of the Order, and
that secured a continuity of intellectual light and life through the dark
ages, the results of which have endured to modern times. “Wherever
a Benedictine house arose, or a monastery of any one of the Orders,
which were but offshoots from the Benedictine tree, books were
multiplied and a library came into existence, small indeed at first, but
increasing year by year, till the wealthier houses had gathered
together collections of books that would do credit to a modern
university.”[20]
It was, of course, the case that the injunction to read, an injunction
given at a time when books were very few and monks were
becoming many, carried with it an instruction for writing until copies
of the books prescribed should have been produced in sufficient
numbers to meet the requirements of the readers. The armaria could
be filled only through steady and persistent work in the scriptoria,
and, as we shall see later, such scribe-work was accepted not only
as a part of the “manual labour” prescribed in the Rule, but not
infrequently (in the case of the skilled scribes) in lieu of some portion
of the routine of religious observance. Benedict would not have his
monks limit themselves to spiritual labour, to the action of the soul
upon itself. He made external labour, manual or literary, a strict
obligation of his Rule. The routine of the monastic day was to include
seven hours for manual labour, two hours for reading.[21] In later
years, the Benedictine monasteries became centres of instruction,
supplying the place, as far as was practicable, of the educational
system of the departed empire. As Order after Order was founded,
there came to be a steady development of interest in books and an
ever increasing care for their safe-keeping. S. Benedict had
contented himself with general directions for study; the Cluniacs
prescribed the selection of a special officer to take charge of the
books, with an annual audit of them and the assignment to each
brother of a single volume.
“The followers of the Saint continued in their patient labour,
praying, digging, and transcribing. The scriptoria of the Benedictine
monastery will multiply copies not only of missals and theological
treatises, but of the poems and histories of antiquity. Whatever may
have been the religious value or the religious dangers of the
monastic life, the historian at least is bound to express his gratitude