First chapter First Paragraph Tuesday Intros: When Christ and His Saints Slept by Sharon Kay Penman

First Chapter ~ First Paragraph Tuesday Intros, now hosted by Vicki at I'd Rather Be At The Beach, where bloggers post the first paragraph(s) of a book they are currently reading or planning to read sometime soon.

Well at least my post isn't late and I'm caught up with leaving replies to the comments. This week's book will be long, but I hope many will enjoy it: Here's When Christ and His Saints Slept by Sharon Kay Penman, which sounds really, really good :D Enjoy your week everyone!

Prologue

Chartres cathedral France

January 1101

Stephen was never to forget his fifth birthday, for that was the day he lost his father. In actual fact, that wasn't precisely so. But childhood memories are not woven from facts alone, and that was how he would remember it.

He'd come with his parents and two elder brothers to this great church of the Blessed Mary to hear a bishop preach about the Crusade. He didnt know who the bishop was, but his sermon was a long, dull one, and Stephen had fidgeted and squirmed through most of it, for he was safely out of his mother's reach. She had no patience with childhood mischief, no patience with mischief of any kind. "Remember who you are " was her favorite maternal rebuke, and her older children had soon learned to disregard that warning at their peril.

But it puzzled Stephen; why would he forget? He knew very well who he was: Stephen of Blois, son and namesake of the Count of Blood and the Lady Adele, daughter of William the Bastard, King of England and Duke of Normandy. Stephen had never met his celebrated grandfather, but he knew He'd been a great man. His mother often said so.

Stephen knew about the Crusade, too, for people talked about it all the time. His father had taken the cross, gone off to free the holy land from the infidel. Stephen was still in his cradle then, and two when his father came back. There was something shameful about his return. Stephen did not understand why, though for he was convinced his father could do no wrong, not the man who laughed so often and winked at minor misdeeds and had promised him a white pony for this long awaited fifth birthday. Stephen had already picked out a name-Snowball- so sure he was that his father would not forget, that the pony would be waiting for them back at the castle.

Stephen had hoped they'd be returning there once the Mass was done, but instead they lingered out in the cloistered with the bishop, discussing the new army of crusaders that was making ready to join it's Christian brethren in the holy land. Ignored by adults, bored and restless, Stephen soon slipped back into the cathedral.