Tim Severin - The Book of Dreams

‘You seem dismayed,’ Husayn said. There was a note of genuine concern in his voice.

‘The person whom Ganelon seeks to destroy is a decent and honourable man. He does not deserve such treachery,’ I said.

‘A close friend of yours?’

‘Yes, that too,’ I said. I was heartsick to think that I had been selected as the instrument of Hroudland’s downfall.

‘Had I known, I would not have signed that document,’ the wali murmured. He watched a small, white moth circle the flame in the bowl of scented oil. When it had fluttered away, he continued in a comforting tone. ‘Surely Karlo will not condemn his nephew out of hand. He will cross-examine all those concerned and that will be your chance to speak up for your friend and establish the truth.’ There was a brief pause, and then he added meaningfully, ‘If you are still alive.’

The image of the dead slinger rose before me. It would have made sense for Ganelon to have me killed once Gerin had seen me ride off with the wali. If the king thought to ask what had happened to me, it would be presumed that I had stolen the five hundred dinars and run away. As long as I remained alive, I was the single flaw in Ganelon’s scheme.

At that moment I knew I had to avoid Ganelon and reach Hroudland and warn him of his danger.

Husayn seemed to have read my thoughts.

‘I can arrange for you to join your friend. It will mean a sea journey, possibly a difficult one as this is a stormy season.’

There was another upsurge of barking as the city dogs again challenged one another. I shivered despite the warmth of the carpet underneath me as I thought of another sea voyage.

‘I accept your offer,’ I said. There seemed nothing else I could do.

There was a gleam of gold in the darkness, the light from a lantern reflecting on the brocade of his gown as the wali shifted position. His manner became businesslike and brisk.

‘Good. It will take a few days to make the necessary arrangements for your trip. In the meantime my scribes will make a copy of the Book of Dreams so you can take the original with you and return it to Count Gerard.’

‘You are very gracious, Your Excellency,’ I said. ‘Men like Ganelon are dangerous. My friend Count Hroudland describes him as a reptile.’

The wali gave a low, grim chuckle.

‘I’ll know how to deal with him. Country people say that Zaragoza is so well favoured that a bunch of grapes suspended from the ceiling remains sweet for six years, and no article of dress whether it is wool, silk or cotton is ever eaten by moths.’ His gown rustled as he rose to his feet. I also stood up and he came forward and took hold of me by both elbows. Looking into my eyes, he said, ‘The country people also claim that in Zaragoza scorpions lose their sting, and snakes and other reptiles are deprived of their venom.’

He released his grip and stepped back as a body servant silently appeared behind him and settled a cloak across his shoulders. Then he turned and strode away, passing in front of the line of lanterns, the cloak swirling out behind him, as he went back inside the house. His grey-haired steward materialized out of the darkness and led me back to my own rooms. This time he did not lock the door behind me.

That night, perhaps not surprisingly, I dreamed of a snake. It was my first real dream since leaving Aachen. In my dream I was seated on a rock on a barren mountainside and dressed only in my loose Saracen gown. I was icy cold but dared not stand up. A poisonous brown snake, as thick as my wrist, lay curled in my lap. I felt its weight through the gown. The slightest movement would rouse it. Some distance away Hroudland stood talking with Husayn and Governor Suleyman of Barcelona. I wanted to call out to them, seek their help, but then the snake would strike. I sat, fearing the slightest movement.

It was at that point in my dream that I became half awake. I was stretched out on a couch where I had lain down to rest after returning from my meal with the wali. Something was indeed lying across my thighs. I thought I felt it stir, and the hair on the back of my neck rose in terror. I lay still, struggling to control my panic. After what seemed like an age, I took a shallow breath and gathered my strength. I tensed and then, in one terrified move, I sprang to my feet, flinging aside whatever was lying across me.

I was fully awake now, standing upright and shivering with fright. The room was in total darkness and I had no idea of the time. I stood stock still, listening for the sound of something slithering on the floor. I heard nothing. Gradually I calmed down and told myself that it had been a nightmare. After some moments I stooped and gingerly felt around the floor, still fearful. My fingers closed on a roll of cotton sheet. It had wrapped around me as I tossed and turned.

It took me a long time to get back to sleep, and it was well past dawn when I awoke. Daylight was flooding in through the high windows. Snatches of birdsong came from the direction of the central courtyard. I rose and went into the marbled washroom to splash water on my face. Osric was waiting for me in the adjacent room and I saw that breakfast had been delivered — a flat loaf of bread, some fruit and a jug of sherbet. I mumbled a greeting and went straight to the low desk where I had left my translation of the Oneirokritikon. I sat down on the floor cushion and began to skim through the text until I found the section on animals and their significance in dreams. It was a strange assortment of creatures. Mice, tapeworms, crickets, moles, owls, bats — as far as I could make out, they were listed in no particular order. Eventually I came to the page that dealt with snakes. The book left me in no doubt.

To dream of a snake was a sure portent of impending treachery.

With a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, I looked up. Osric was standing beside the uneaten food, waiting for me to speak, his dark eyes troubled.

‘Ganelon plans to destroy Hroudland,’ I began, and told him what I had learned the previous evening and my nightmare.

He heard me out in silence.

‘Do you remember what time of night you dreamed?’ he asked, once I’d finished.

‘No. It was pitch dark,’ I said.

‘Then the treachery will not occur for some time yet. What happened to the snake?’

It was such an odd question that I was taken aback.

‘I don’t remember.’

‘The Book of Dreams tells us that the snake’s behaviour is important.’

In my anxiety about the meaning of the dream, I had forgotten that, according to the Oneirokritikon, if the snake wrapped itself around the dreamer’s leg, then he would be the victim of treachery. If the snake moved away, it meant that someone else would be betrayed.

‘In my dream the snake was lying on me, curled up. Nothing more,’ I said.

‘Then you are not to be the victim. And it might not be Count Hroudland either,’ Osric said.

‘I’m going to warn Hroudland anyway. The wali is making arrangements for me to travel to join him. He says I can go by sea.’

‘Let’s hope that this time we don’t sail with a crew of pirates.’

‘Osric, you don’t have to go with me,’ I said slowly.

He looked at me as if he had not heard me properly. Choosing my words carefully, I told him what I had arranged with the wali and that there was a place for him in Zaragoza.

‘You can decide whether to stay or not. It is up to you,’ I said. ‘Whatever happens, you will not be a slave. If you travel with me, it will be as a free man.’

An expression that wavered between reluctance and elation passed across Osric’s face.

‘I had not expected this,’ he said huskily.

‘You saved my life, if you remember.’

‘Yesterday you said you would need my help more than ever before.’ Osric put up a hand to massage the side of his damaged neck. It was a habit of his to knead the muscles there while he was thinking. I had forgotten how accustomed I was to his small gestures.