Codex Babylon: A secret history sci-fi adventure (The Cross-Time Crusade Book 1) by Robert Kroese

Author:Robert Kroese [Kroese, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Publisher: St. Culain Press
Published: 2023-03-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-seven

M artin spent the rest of the night huddled against the trunk of a tree on a low ridge overlooking the river. He guessed he’d been there about four hours when the sky began to lighten. He’d slept for maybe an hour in total, shivering until he was warm enough to fall asleep and then waking a few minutes later to restart the cycle. Dawn didn’t seem to bring much warmth, but his clothes were now mostly dry. He was exhausted, but he’d made it through the night without succumbing to hypothermia. When he could see well enough to walk, he forced himself to his feet and began making his way through the trees. He had no goal in mind other than getting warm enough to think straight; he supposed that as long as he could hear the river, he wouldn’t get any more lost than he already was.

He followed the ridgeline as best he could, taking the path of least resistance through the trees. As the sky continued to lighten, he saw that he was on a sort of path. The sun was to his left, across the river, which was about fifty yards across at this point. That meant he was heading roughly south. Richerenches was northeast, but he’d never get there cutting cross-country anyway. He needed to find a road or settlement, and south was as good a direction as any. His best guess was that La Couvertoirade was still a few miles to his east, but he was probably better off avoiding any settlements in the immediate vicinity. The farther he could go before seeking help, the better his chances of avoiding the welcoming committee.

As he walked, he took stock of his situation. If he needed to, he could go a few days without food. Water wasn’t a problem; without a container of some sort using the purification tablets was going to be difficult, but he supposed the river water was clean enough to drink. Shelter would be a challenge, but he remembered enough from his Boy Scout days to make a lean-to, and a bed of leaves would be plenty warm as long as he could stay dry.

He was under no illusions about his ability to procure food in the woods. He could identify a few edible roots and berries, but he’d probably burn more calories foraging than he’d get from eating them. He’d tried spearfishing and making rabbit traps when he was in the Scouts, and he was confident he could find less frustrating ways of starving to death. No, his salvation lay in the two rolls of coins sewed into his coat. The one on the left comprised replicas of twenty Frankish deniers minted in Tours, made of silver. The one on the right comprised twenty gold coins modeled after those minted in Byzantium a century or so earlier. Gold coins were uncommon in twelfth century France; the idea was for Martin to live on the deniers until he found a jeweler or merchant willing to give him silver for the gold.

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