The Scribe (18 page)

As they walked, Althar explained that bears normally hibernate from the end of November until the thaw. “People think they sleep like logs, but they’re actually light sleepers. That’s why we have to be very careful.”

“And what if there’s more than one?” asked the young woman.

“Unlikely. Bears hibernate alone, so that shouldn’t worry us.”

They continued walking until Althar noticed the fixation that Satan had for Theresa’s crotch. He noticed that, despite the girl’s efforts, the mutt kept sniffing her as though she were hiding something under her skirts. Curious, he asked her whether she had stolen some food.

“No, sir,” she responded awkwardly.

“So what the devil is the dog smelling?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, blushing.

“Well, you can start talking, because if the dog can smell it, the beast will, too.”

Theresa didn’t know what to say, not wanting to confess that it was that time of the month, but in the end there was no need, for Althar guessed it.

“Pox on you! The one day we go out hunting, you have to be bleeding,” he said, but he didn’t look as if he was ready to turn back.

Before long they arrived at the area where the bear was taking shelter. Althar indicated the location of the bear cave, which was at the top of a steep slope. Theresa noticed that a ditch below the entrance would make the approach difficult.

“We’ll position the net over the mouth of the cave. Then I’ll set fire to some branches and Satan will bark. With the smoke and the noise, the bear will wake and try to escape, but he’ll run straight into the net. Once it’s trapped, I’ll bring it down with the bow. You wait somewhere it won’t smell you. Up there, above the entrance, just in case.”

“Just in case?”

“If I get in trouble, shoot the beast. And for the love of God, make sure you hit the target this time.”

He stayed to gather branches, while Theresa climbed toward the mouth of the cave. Halfway there, the young woman stumbled, making several stones roll down the slope. Althar cursed her, gesturing to be silent. When Theresa had scrambled to the top of the entrance, she signaled to Althar, who by then had piled all manner of brushwood by the cave’s mouth. Then he quickly covered the entrance with the net. After securing it in place, he stepped back to light the fire, retrieving one burning branch.

Theresa watched him take up position behind a rock and signal to her to be on the alert. The smell of burning wood soon told her that it was nearly time, so she took a deep breath and lay down. Suddenly, Satan started barking like a dog possessed, scratching
about among the stones and spinning round several times. She thought the hound had lost its senses, but promptly a roar could be heard from inside the cave.

Her heart missed a beat. She held the crossbow as firmly as she could and aimed it at the entrance, but even lying down the weapon was unsteady. A few moments of quiet passed by until suddenly a gigantic mass of fur appeared from nowhere, snorting as it exited the cave and ran straight into the net. Finding himself trapped, the animal bellowed with fury, swiping and biting at the mesh. Satan howled excitedly, barking and attacking the beast with a complete disregard for the bear’s snapping jaws.

Unexpectedly, the fire spread to the net and then to the bear’s belly, making the animal howl in pain and try to free itself by rearing onto its hind legs. For a moment Theresa thought the beast would scale the rock face to reach her, but it slipped and fell back into the cave. The bear then turned and let out a terrifying roar, exposing its great jaws. Theresa closed her eyes, but another bellow made her open them again, just as Althar took his shot. The arrow cleaved through the air, embedding itself in the sole of the bear’s hind foot. Althar knew he had to hurry before the fire could ruin the beast’s pelt. He drew the bow and fired once more. The second arrow disappeared into the animal’s belly. The bear howled in pain, twisted round and then clumsily reared up, before finally crashing to the ground like a mountain collapsing.

Theresa waited a few seconds and then stood up. She was still trembling, but at least she was breathing. She looked at the motionless bear, lying flat out on the ground. It was an imposing animal, its fur glossy and its claws sharp. She was about to go down, but Althar stopped her.

“Wait there till I say,” he told her sharply. “They’re dangerous even after they’ve been flayed.”

He approached the animal with an axe in one hand and a long stick in the other. Three paces away, he stopped. He prodded the
bear with the stick, but it didn’t move. Then he raised the axe with both hands and let it fall with all his strength onto the beast’s neck. Afterward, he just stood admiring the dead bear for a while.

Fortunately, the flames had barely damaged the hindquarters. The neck, furthermore, had been cut cleanly, and the marks from the arrows were almost imperceptible. He told Theresa she could come down and help him skin the animal. In the end the hunt had been easier than expected.

Before descending, the young woman removed the dart from the crossbow and sheathed it in a cloth as Althar had shown her. She was halfway down the slope when another roar stopped her in her tracks.

For a moment she couldn’t believe her ears. She had watched the animal die, and yet another bellow was thundering around the mountain. With all the speed she could muster she ran toward the promontory where she had been positioned. She watched in horror as another bear came out of the cave and attacked Althar. The old man stepped back. Gripping the axe with two hands, he lashed out—but the animal kept coming. In his desperation, Althar backed up all the way to the precipice. He was trapped. The bear seemed to understand this, and it paused before launching its final attack. Althar tried to escape to one side, but he slipped and the axe tumbled to the bottom of the ravine.

He knew death was certain.

The beast reared up until it was twice Althar’s size. It advanced a couple of paces and roared as though it had the Devil inside it, but just before dealing its final blow, Satan appeared between the beast and his master, barking as if he were the one possessed. The bear hesitated before suddenly swiping at the hound with its giant paw, and Satan was dispatched, his neck broken.

Theresa realized that she had to act. She took out a dart and positioned it in the groove of the crossbow. Lying flat on her stomach,
she aimed carefully at the animal’s head. Then she remembered Althar’s words and pointed the weapon at the great brown belly.

She told herself that she only had one chance. Taking aim, she then closed her eyes and fired. The dart flew through the air and disappeared from sight before a bellow could be heard. For a moment she thought she had hit her target, but then she noticed with horror that the dart had hit the animal above one of its hind legs.

She thought Althar would certainly perish. Yet something strange happened. As the beast tried to move forward, its injured leg caused it to lose balance, and it fell heavily onto its left side. For a moment it seemed like it would stumble to its feet again, but it slipped yet again and slid toward the edge of the precipice. The bear kicked out desperately as if it could sense what was about to happen. All of a sudden the rocks that were supporting it came away, and despite its efforts, it fell with them to the bottom of the ravine.

It was some time before Theresa managed to react. When she came to, she ran down to Althar who, in a daze, also appeared to be unaware of quite what had happened.

“Two bears. There were two damned bears.”

“I aimed like you said, but I couldn’t…”

“Don’t worry, lass, you did well… two of the bastards,” he repeated.

He scratched his head and looked at Satan with sorrow in his eyes. Removing his cloak, he wrapped it around him carefully. “He was a good dog. I’ll stuff him so he’s with me always.”

They spent the afternoon skinning the first bear. When they had finished, it occurred to Althar that they could recover the skin from the second one, too. “At the end of the day, all we have to do is climb down into the ravine.”

“Won’t it be dangerous?”

“You wait here,” he said.

He set down his load and started along the path on the hillside that seemed to descend to the bottom of the precipice. After a while he returned along the same route, with something loaded onto his shoulders.

“The skin was no use, eaten away by the mange,” he explained. “But it had nice eyes, so I brought them back with me. Along with the rest of the head.”

When they arrived home, Leonora welcomed them with good tidings: Hoos had risen and was waiting for them at the table.

As they ate their dinner, Theresa thought Hoos seemed more interested in his pottage than their story of the hunt. However, when he had wolfed down the last spoonful, he thanked Althar for saving his life.

“Thank the lass. She’s the one who insisted I put you on the cart.”

Hoos looked at Theresa and his expression hardened. Leonora sensed that something was amiss. “I am grateful,” he said drily. “But after I saved her life, it’s the least I would expect.”

“That’s right,” Althar conceded. “It’s clear the girl can be relied upon.” He laughed and gave Theresa a shove.

Hoos changed the subject. “Your wife tells me you’ve lived here a long time.”

“Verily. I can assure you we don’t miss the filth of the city: the scandalmongers, the false accusations, the gossip—bah! We’re happy here. Just the two of us, doing and eating what we please.” He took a slug on his wine. “Tell me, how are you feeling?”

“Not good, to be honest, but I couldn’t remain lying down any longer.”

“Then you should rest. Until those ribs heal, at least. Otherwise any movement could ruin your lungs.”

Hoos nodded. Every time he swallowed he felt as if barbs were tearing at his insides. He downed his wine, excused himself, and went back to bed. While the women cleared up, Althar spread out the bear skin, placing the two heads on top of some buckets. When he ushered the animals into the cave for the evening, he realized that he missed the scurrying of Satan, who would always help him with the task.

The next day started gloomily, with a blustery wind. A bad day for venturing out, Althar thought to himself, but not so bad for stuffing trophies. Before breakfast he took the animals outside to water them and took the opportunity to empty his bladder. On his return, Theresa and Leonora were up and about. They ate breakfast in silence so as not to wake Hoos. Then Althar picked up the pelt and the bear heads and asked Theresa to accompany him.

“I still need to wash,” said the girl.

Althar assumed she still had her period, so he didn’t insist.

“When you’ve finished, come to the other cave. I’ll need your help.”

Althar swung the skin over his shoulder and walked out with her. Theresa went to the stream to wash with the cloths that Leonora had given her. When she returned she saw that Hoos had woken and was glaring at her.

Leonora seemed to notice this, too, and said, “I’m off to feed the animals. Just call if you need anything.”

They both nodded. When she had gone, Hoos made as if to get up, but he felt a stabbing in his chest and lay back down again. Theresa sat down beside him.

“Do you feel better?” she asked timidly. They were the first words she had said to him. Hoos hesitated before answering.

“You weren’t so concerned when you took off with my dagger,” he said.

Theresa didn’t know what to say. She went to her bag and returned red-faced. “I don’t know how I could have done it,” she said, tears in her eyes.

Hoos’s expression changed. He took the dagger and stuffed it under the blanket. Then he closed his eyes and turned away.

Theresa understood that nothing she could say or do would change his mind. After all, if it had been the other way round, she would have reacted the same. She wiped away her tears and with a trembling voice asked him to forgive her. Finally, faced with the young man’s indifference, she left the cave with her head bowed.

On the way to the second cave she came across Leonora, who noticed the young woman’s reddened eyes. But Theresa walked past, not giving her a chance to say anything. Leonora went back to the bear cave. When she questioned Hoos about what had happened, he replied with a terse, “It’s none of your business.”

Leonora was affronted by his response. “Listen to me, young man: I don’t care where you come from or what titles you have. You should know that you are only alive because that girl, who you’ve just made cry, made sure of it, so you had better start behaving like a prince toward her or it’ll be me who breaks your ribs.”

Hoos didn’t answer. He thought to himself that nobody would know or care about the impulse he had to follow the girl in the first place.

DECEMBER

9

First it was just a slight tingling. Then the wound stabbed at him. Gorgias threw the wax tablet that Genseric had given him onto the old bed and approached the light that sifted through the little window high up in the cell. He undid the bandage around his arm, taking care not to pull off the scab. When he looked at his flesh underneath he noticed that his entire arm was violet and a cluster of pustules was starting to appear between the stitches. If it had been possible he would have had the physician Zeno take a look at it, though the absence of a foul smell was reassuring. With the point of his stylus, he flicked off the driest scabs and cleaned out the yellowish pus underneath. Then he tightened the bandage and prayed that his arm would scar without further complications.

For the first hour of his confinement, he merely waited, examining the little window that not even a small child could have squeezed through. Try as he might, he could not see anything through the alabaster. He thought about breaking it, but controlled his urge. When he heard the bells signaling Sext, he knew his wife would have probably come to the chapter by now, worried about his absence.

He imagined the lies they would tell her.

Gorgias wanted to believe that Genseric was telling the truth: That it was Wilfred who was responsible for his imprisonment.
Perhaps he did want to protect him from the parchment-maker. Or was it more that he wanted to watch over his progress with the document? But, why in such a place of confinement where he had so little control? He could have chosen the scriptorium, where all the necessary equipment could be found, or even his own chambers, to keep him under close scrutiny. After all, Wilfred didn’t know about the attack, so if he was being sequestered for his own safety, as the coadjutor claimed, Wilfred probably would have thought the scriptorium sufficient.