Garrido, Antonio - The Scribe

“And again incriminate my father.”

“Indeed. He had to find him, and if he was held responsible for several deaths in Würzburg they would help to find him. I don’t know whether Hoos found out that your father was hiding at the mine. Perhaps he suspected it, or maybe it was fate. The fact is that his presence no longer suited anyone. Flavio and Hoos wanted him dead, for if Gorgias survived, he could transcribe another parchment.”

“And you, too, in order to cover up his discovery.”

“What do you mean?” asked the monk, surprised.

“I bet you wanted him dead, too, since my father had uncovered the hypocrisy of the document.”

Alcuin frowned. At that moment the servant returned with his requested food, but Alcuin shooed him away with an irritable gesture.

“I have told you that I was fond of your father. But let’s not talk about that. Whatever I could have done for him, or didn’t do for him, I could not have prevented his death.”

“But he didn’t have to die like a dog.”

Alcuin didn’t blink. He picked up a Bible and found the Book of Job. He began to read it out loud as if to justify his behavior. Then he added, “God demands sacrifice from us. He sends us afflictions that perhaps we do not understand. Your father offered his life, and you should be grateful to him for it.”

Theresa looked him in the eyes with steely determination. “If there is something I should thank him for, it is that he lived long enough to show me that you two are as different as night and day.”

She left the room, leaving Alcuin standing there.

On the way to the ship, Izam told her why the monk had accused her of stealing the parchment. “To buy you a little more time,” he explained. “If he hadn’t, Flavio would have done away with you in an instant. It was Flavio that you heard in the tunnel. Hoos killed the young sentry, but it was you he was looking to kill. He found the emerald Vulgate and took it, believing it contained the parchment you were working on. Then, realizing it was just a Bible, he discarded it in the cloister so nobody would know he had stolen it.”

“And that’s why Alcuin had me imprisoned in the meat safe? Why he allowed me to be thrashed? Why he intended to have me burned alive?”

“Try to stay calm,” said Izam. “Alcuin thought that in the meat safe, awaiting the execution, at least you would be safe for a little while. Wilfred was the one responsible for thrashing you. And Alcuin couldn’t intervene without arousing suspicion of his plan, of which Wilfred was completely unaware.”

“Plan? What plan?” Theresa asked, taken aback.

“For me to challenge Alcuin himself.”

Theresa didn’t understand, but Izam continued. “He’s the one who came to me with the idea,” he said, referring to the monk. “He came to see me and informed me of everything I have already told you about. Alcuin didn’t know how to protect you and at the same time unmask the murderers, so he asked me to challenge him to a trial by ordeal. When I did so and Alcuin requested a champion, Flavio gave his connection to Hoos away by suggesting him as the champion.”

“And you believed Alcuin? In God’s name, Izam! Think about it. If Hoos had defeated you, you would be dead and they would’ve burned me alive.”

“That never would’ve happened. Drogo knew everything. Even if I had died, he still would have freed you.”

“Then… why did you fight?”

“For you, Theresa. Hoos is in large part responsible for the death of your father, and he hurt you. He deserved to be punished.”

“You could have died,” she said, bursting into the tears.

“It was a trial by ordeal—God’s judgment. That wouldn’t have happened.”

Three days after the funeral, a conclave exonerated Wilfred of the charges against him. Drogo, as supreme judge, ruled that Korne and Genseric had paid fair punishment for the wickedness of their deeds with their deaths, and all present applauded the verdict. But Alcuin could not let Wilfred go completely without blame—and he condemned the ambition that had driven his Christian, yet murderous, aspirations.

Coming out of the meeting, Alcuin found Theresa surrounded by bundles of clothes and books. They had arranged to meet to say farewell. Alcuin once again proposed that she transcribe Constantine’s document in exchange for money, but she flatly refused, and the monk had to finally accept her answer.

“So… are you sure you wish to leave?” he asked.

Theresa hesitated. The night before, Izam had asked her to go with him to Aquis-Granum, but she had not answered him yet. On the one hand, she wanted to begin a new life, to forget everything and follow him on the ship bound to set sail the next day. But on the other hand, her heart told her to stay with Rutgarda and her nephews. It felt as though all that she had learned to value from her father—his eagerness for her to become an educated and independent woman—had died with him. For a moment she saw herself following Rutgarda’s advice: staying in Würzburg to marry and have children.

“You could still stay and work with me,” Alcuin suggested. “I will be at the fortress for a while to organize the scriptorium and wrap up certain matters. As punishment, Wilfred will be sent to live in a monastery, so you could help me for now, and decide later about your future.”

But she had already made up her mind. Working among parchments was what she had always wanted, but now she longed for a different world, the world Izam told her about and that she yearned to discover for herself. Alcuin understood.

As he helped her pack up her bundles, he asked her again about Constantine’s document. “I am interested in the first transcription,” he explained. “The one your father made while he was held captive. He must have nearly completed it.”

“I never saw such a document,” the young woman lied, recalling the parchment she had found in her father’s bag. But it didn’t matter. She had long since destroyed it.

“It would be monumental if it exists. If we found it, we could still present it to the chapter’s council,” he insisted.

“I’m telling you that I don’t know anything about it.” She reflected before adding: “And even if I did know its location, I would never deliver it to you. In my mind there’s no place for lies, or death, or ambition, or greed—even if you wield it in the name of Christianity. So you stick with your God, and I’ll stick with mine.”

Theresa said a polite farewell without another thought of the parchment.

As she walked to the wharf, she recalled the strange symbols that she guessed her father had drawn in the meat safe and she wondered for a moment about the intensity with which he had etched those beams.

She found Izam on the riverbank helping his men caulk the ship. As soon as he saw her, he dropped his bucket of pitch and, with his hands still black, ran to help her with her belongings. She laughed when he took her face in his hands, leaving streaks of black across her cheeks. Cleaning herself with a cloth, she kissed him, then rubbed the pitch on his clean, dark hair.

APRIL

32

The day’s voyage passed pleasantly, with the quacking of ducks and wildflowers festooning the banks as if they had been arranged by a welcoming committee. They disembarked in Frankfurt, where they parted company with Drogo to join a caravan leaving for Fulda.

When they arrived back in Fulda, they found Helga the Black with her belly rounder than any Theresa had ever seen. Recognizing them, Helga dropped the haystack she was carrying and tried to run to meet her friend, wobbling like a cantharus. She hugged Theresa so hard that the girl thought she would burst. When Helga heard that they planned to settle in Fulda, she gave so many leaps of joy that it seemed as if she might give birth right there.