Garrido, Antonio - The Scribe

“Where did you get that necklace?” she repeated.

“It’s mine. Now get out of the way or you’ll be picking up your teeth off the floor.”

Theresa fixed her eyes on him. “You know Hoos Larsson, right? He’s there, right at the other end of the tunnel.” Then she tore violently at her dress until one of her breasts was exposed. “Answer me now or I’ll scream until he comes and kills you.”

“For God’s sake! Cover yourself. You’ll have us both burnt at the stake.”

Theresa tried to scream, but Zeno covered her mouth. However, the physician was trembling like a beaten dog and he looked the young woman in the eyes, begging her to be quiet. He did not let go until she had signaled she wouldn’t scream.

Removing his hand cautiously he admitted, “Your father gave it to me. Now leave me in peace, wretched girl.”

But, before he could leave, Theresa made him explain the circumstances of his meeting with her father. Reluctantly, Zeno told her that, at the request of Genseric, he had attended to Gorgias at an abandoned granary. He added that he merely wished to help, and he promised Theresa that her father had given him the necklace as payment for his services. He refrained from mentioning the amputated arm, however. When Theresa asked where her father was, he didn’t have an answer. So she demanded that he take her to the place where he had tended to him. Zeno tried to wriggle out of it, but the young woman wouldn’t let him.

Suddenly the physician’s expression changed. “Nice tits,” he said with a silly little laugh.

Theresa stepped back, covering up her chest. She would have slapped him if she could. “Listen to me carefully, you filthy goat turd! You will take me to that place now, and if you dare touch me, I swear to God I will have you burned alive.”

Theresa doubted the weight of her threats, but when she added that she would accuse him of having robbed her father, the physician stood up straight as if someone had just impaled him. The stupid smile was quickly wiped off his face and he agreed to escort her.

After tidying up her habit, the young woman snatched Zeno’s bag from him so she could pretend to be his assistant. She followed the physician and they left the fortress through a side door without any more trouble.

She walked along behind Zeno in a state of anxiety, as if she only wanted to return to the granary and put an end to the whole pantomime once and for all. When they were in the vicinity of the abandoned stables the physician stopped. He waved his arm at it and made as if to go back, but Theresa made him wait.

The young woman approached the shelter that was half-devoured by the undergrowth and looking as if it would collapse at any moment. When she pushed the door open, a swarm of flies accompanied the stench that wafted out from inside. She entered slowly, waving her arm at the cloud of insects buzzing around her. Her stomach turned and she retched. Feeling unable to contain her nausea, she vomited, yet continued into the darkness in search of a clue that would lead her to her father.

Suddenly she stumbled on something. She looked down and her heart pounded. Among the fallen leaves, a putrefying arm, peppered with insects, was propped upright as though baying for vengeance.

Theresa left the building in horror and vomited again. Hatred and pain overcame her. “You killed him, you bastard.” She thumped against Zeno’s chest with her fists. “You killed and robbed him,” she said, crying inconsolably.

Zeno tried to calm her down. He had forgotten that they had left the amputated arm on the ground, so he was left with no choice but to tell her the truth. While he recounted the events, Theresa listened in bewilderment.

“I don’t know what might have happened afterward,” he said apologetically, “but Gorgias was still alive. Genseric asked me to take them somewhere else. I obeyed and then went back to town.”

“Where did you take him?”

Zeno spat and looked fixedly at Theresa.

“I’ll take you, then I’m off.”

They skirted the walls of the fortress until they reached the point where the defenses adjusted to the quirks of a rocky outcrop. Zeno pointed to the place where the thick ivy obscured an entrance. On the other side of the wall, the outline of a building could be seen and Theresa guessed that it must be part of the fortress. At that moment the physician turned, leaving her alone in front of the door.

She struggled to force her way in since the damp had made the wood swell until it pressed against the stone jamb. On the third attempt, however, the door gave way, opening into a chapel room that was in such disarray it looked like a fight had taken place. The light from the entrance spilled onto the furniture, which was strewn across the floor, while the draft from the open door lifted scraps of parchment into the air in little eddies as if they were dead leaves. She examined every nook and cranny without finding anything of use, until suddenly she noticed the small door to the cell where her father had been imprisoned. Cautiously she went in, and there she found an untidy pile of writing equipment, which she quickly recognized as belonging to her father.

On tenterhooks, she rushed over to the codex with the emerald cover, where her father would keep important documents. If anything ever happens to me, look inside it , he had often said to her.

She took it without looking closely at it, then gathered all the pieces of parchment she could find in the room. She also took a stylus, pens, and a wax tablet. Then she took a last look around and ran out of there as if the Devil were after her soul.

When she arrived at the fortress entrance she had to notify Alcuin to let her in. When the monk asked her where she had been, she lowered her head and tried to slip away, but he took her by the arm and led her to a quiet corner.

“Looking for my father! That’s where!” the girl responded, shaking his hand off.

Alcuin believed her. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep her in one spot for long.

“And what have you found?”

She shook her head. Alcuin then noticed the wound on her head. And Theresa told him about the stone Korne had thrown at her.

Alcuin asked her to follow him to the scriptorium. He waited for her sit down, then paced back and forth in silence, as if debating whether to tell her everything that was going on.

“All right,” said Monk, having made up his mind. “I made you promise something once and you went against your word. Now I need to know whether you are prepared to keep an extraordinary secret.”

“Another miracle? Sorry, but I’m sick of your lies.”

“Listen to me.” He sat down. “There are certain things you do not understand yet. Love is neither pure, as you imagine it, nor tainted, just because I say it is. Men are not wicked and sinful, nor innocent and compassionate. Their actions depend upon their ambitions, their desires and longings, and sometimes, more often than you can imagine, on the presence of evil.” He stood again and wandered around the scriptorium. “There are as many nuances as there are variations in the sky. Sometimes it is warm and bright, sometimes icy and tempestuous—like one’s mortal enemy. What is real and what is a lie? The accusations Korne makes against you, confirmed by his relatives and friends, or your claim that you possess the absolute truth and are blameless? Tell me, Theresa, is there not a little bitterness within you? Does your soul not harbor a shadow of resentment?”

Theresa knew full well who was to blame, but she decided to keep silent.

“As for the miracles,” Alcuin continued, “I can safely say that I have never witnessed one. Or at least, not of the kind these fools imagine. But think about this: How can we be sure you were not resurrected? How can we ignore the fact that a protective force got you out of that inferno and guided you through the mountains? And sent you to Hoos, who saved you once, and then to that trapper who saved you again? Or even to the prostitute who took you in, or to me, when you sought a healer?” He looked fixedly at her. “Ultimately, all that I have done was done to protect you. The miracle was technically a lie, yes, but I assure you that I was guided by the hand of the Almighty. He has designed a fate for you that you are unaware of and that will now be revealed to you. A fate that Gorgias, your father, has been involved with since the beginning.”