Garrido, Antonio - The Scribe

Flavio reeled. The venom was already taking effect. He put his hand in his robe and pulled out a folded parchment.

“Is this what you’re looking for? A false document? Tell me, Alcuin, who is most…?” He shook his head as if something was echoing around it. “Who is most at fault? He who, like me, fights to ensure that the truth prevails, or he who, like you, uses covetous lies to achieve his ends.”

“The only truth is God’s truth. It is He who wants the Papacy to live on.”

“The Byzantine or the Roman?” Flavio blinked nervously, as though trying to see clearly.

Alcuin made as if to approach him, but Flavio warned him against it. “One step closer and I’ll tear the parchment to pieces.”

The monk stopped immediately, knowing that all he had to do to get his hands on the document was wait until the venom took full effect. However, Wilfred did not wait. When he saw that the papal nuncio was staggering, he released his hounds. The dogs, loyal executors of his commands, threw themselves at the Roman’s throat.

One dog latched onto Flavio’s arm, while another tore at his robe. In the struggle, he dropped the parchment and one of the animals ravaged it until it was destroyed. Flavio, even under attack, attempted to retrieve it, but another hound leaped at his face, making him lose his footing. The man teetered on the edge of the precipice. For a second, he looked at Alcuin in disbelief, then both dog and man tilted backward into the void.

When Alcuin looked over the edge, he saw Flavio Diacono’s body together with Hoos Larsson’s at the bottom of the precipice.

After picking up the remains of the parchment, Alcuin realized with a heavy heart that it could never be reconstructed. He crossed himself slowly and turned to Drogo. Theresa thought she could even see the sparkle from a tear in Alcuin’s eye.

31

Gorgias’s funeral was held in the main church in the presence of Drogo, the rest of the papal delegation, and a choir of boys. To Theresa, the antiphons they intoned sounded like the antechamber to heaven itself. Her stepmother, Rutgarda, accompanied by her sister, Lotharia, and her husband and their children, could not refrain from sobbing inconsolably.

Standing farther back, Izam offered Theresa a seat, but she preferred to stand. Although Theresa felt that this Saturday in March was the saddest of her life, the young woman listened to the homily feeling strong and proud of her father.

Rutgarda, on the other hand, cried until she ran out of tears. When the service was over, they carried the coffin in procession to the cemetery. At the express desire of Alcuin, Gorgias’s remains were buried alongside the region’s most distinguished deceased, those who through their sanctity or courage had defended Würzburg and its Christian values.

On the following Sunday morning, Theresa went to see Alcuin at his request. She didn’t feel like seeing him, but Izam insisted that she go. When she arrived at the scriptorium for their meeting, she found Izam also waiting for her. She greeted both of them warmly and sat in the chair they had ready for her. Alcuin offered her some hot buns, but Theresa declined. Then there was a moment’s silence, broken when Alcuin cleared his throat. “Are you sure you don’t want one?” he asked again, but she shook her head no. He moved the buns out of the way and spread the remains of the chewed parchment over the table. “So much work, and for nothing,” he grumbled.

Theresa could only think about her dead father.

“How are you feeling?” Izam asked her.

In a thin voice Theresa said she was fine. It was obvious that she was lying, for her eyes were wet. Alcuin bit his lip, breathed deeply, and took the young woman’s hand in his. But she pulled it away, so Izam took her hand in his own. Alcuin finished gathering up the remains of the parchment and then set them aside as if they were any old pile of scrap.

“I don’t know where to begin,” said the monk. “First, I pray to God that He may be the one to judge me for my rights and wrongs. On the one hand, I feel honored to have served Him, and on the other, I regret my wrongdoings, even if I did commit them in His name. He knows everything, and I commend myself to Him.” He paused and looked at the two of them. “It is easy to pass judgment in hindsight. I may have erred by using lies, but I am consoled to think that I was guided only by what I felt inside to be just and Christian. Accidere ex una cintilla incendia passim . On occasions, a tiny spark can cause a great fire. I must accept that I’m ultimately responsible for all that has happened here, and even if because of the bitter consequences, I offer you my apologies. That said, you must know the events that led to how your father ended up in a grave in the cemetery.”

Theresa looked at Izam and he squeezed her hands. She trusted him. She turned back to Alcuin and listened.

“As I have already said, I met your father in Italy. There I convinced him to come with me to Würzburg, where he worked for me for many years. His knowledge of Latin and Greek were providential for me for translations of codices and epistles. He always told me he liked to write as much or more than he liked a good roast dinner,” he said with a sad smile. “Perhaps that was why, when at the beginning of the winter I proposed that he copy the parchment, your father immediately accepted. He knew its significance, but not its falsity, something which, I repeat, I have no qualms about.” He stood and continued his account pacing around the room. “Wilfred, His Holiness the Pope, and, of course, Charlemagne, knew about his activity. Unfortunately, Flavio found out, too, and the empress of Byzantium must have deceived him and corrupted him with money.

“That’s when Flavio devised a plan worthy of the Devil’s own son. He knew Genseric, who had lived in Rome before settling in Würzburg, so he persuaded the pope to send him to Aquis-Granum with the relics of the Santa Croce. Through an emissary, he convinced Genseric with bribes to keep him informed, and he traveled to Fulda with the chest containing the lignum crucis , which he intended to use as a hiding place for Constantine’s parchment when he transported it to Byzantium. Genseric, meanwhile, sought the assistance of Hoos Larsson, an unscrupulous young man he did not hesitate to hire in order to help him get his hands on the document.”

Theresa did not know why she was still listening to him. This saintly monk had falsely accused her of stealing the parchment, and if it were not for Izam’s victory, he would have insisted on her being burned alive. But she stayed because of Izam.

“Genseric enjoyed Wilfred’s favor,” Alcuin continued. “He had access to the scriptorium, and he knew the progress your father was making. I imagine that back in January, because of the amount of time that had passed since Gorgias first began his work on the document, he assumed that it was finished, so he ordered Hoos to get hold of the parchment through whatever means necessary. Hoos attacked Gorgias and wounded him. But he did not get what he wanted, because, fortunately for your father, he went off with only a partial draft.”

Fortunately for your father . Inwardly, Theresa cursed him.

“That is when the seal of Constantine enters the stage.” Alcuin went over to a cupboard and took from it a beautifully carved dagger. Theresa recognized it as the one Hoos Larsson had. “We found it on Hoos in the gorge,” he explained. With some effort he rotated the handle until it clicked. From inside he removed a cylinder with a face carved into one end. Alcuin soaked it in ink and pressed it onto a parchment. “Constantine’s seal,” he announced. “After stealing it from Wilfred, Genseric gave it to Hoos to keep hidden.”