The Virgin of the Sun

I Hubert of Hastings write this in the land of Tavantinsuyu far from England where I was born whither I shall never more return being a wanderer as the rune upon the sword of my ancestor Thorgrimmer foretold that I should be which sword my mother gave me on the day of the burning of Hastings by the French. I write it with a pen that I have shaped from a wing feather of the great eagle of the mountains with ink that I have made from the juices of certain herbs which I discovered and on parchment that I have split from the skins of native sheep with my own hands but badly I fear though I have seen that art practised when I was a merchant of the Cheap in London Town. I will begin at the beginning. I am the son of a fishing-boat owner and was a trader in the ancient town of Hastings and my father was drowned while following his trade at sea. Afterwards being the only child left of his I took on his business and on a certain day went out to sea to net fish with two of my serving men. I was then a young man of about three and twenty years of age and not uncomely.