A Cistercian brother approached Albornoz in the cloisters one day and whispered, barely audibly,
“Albornoz, the abbot requests your presence in his study.”
“Am I in trouble?”
The brother smiled and reassured him,
“Nothing of the kind, do not worry.”
Albornoz knocked three times on the door beyond which Abbot Sabastian’s hallowed inner sanctuary was rarely penetrated. There came no reply, so he knocked again. This time, a voice came,
“Enter.” Albornoz followed the instruction but slowly, overawed by the honour.
"Come, my son.” The interior of the study was lit only by two candles on either side of a large bible on a heavy oak desk. Behind it, shelves from floor to ceiling groaned under the weight of rolls of parchment and countless leather-bound volumes. It was identical to Brother A
