The Scribe (54 page)

“Another Theresa? Are you suggesting that it is not the same one?” a frightened Wilfred asked.

“Yes and no. Imagine for a moment a little caterpillar. Imagine this little caterpillar of imperfection leaving the cocoon of sin to become a virtuous butterfly. The caterpillar and the butterfly are the same creature, but one lies consumed while the other is reborn before it flies up to the heavens. The truth of the matter is that Theresa died. Perhaps she sinned, and her body burned for it. But sometimes God, in his infinite wisdom, reveals the path to redemption by bestowing upon us a miracle. A wonder that shows
us the way of repentance.” He gave Wilfred a grim look. “The Creator might have allowed Theresa’s soul to suffer in the Acheron, the Phlegethon, and the Cocytus of the Greeks, in order to purge her sins in the place where the Lord cleanses the foulness of the daughters of Zion. But, what good would it have been if none of us learned from her torment?”

Wilfred and Flavio were captivated. They hardly breathed and remained silent for a few moments, until they realized that Alcuin had finished. However, Korne’s eyes were blinking stupidly. Though he didn’t understand the full meaning behind Alcuin’s words or know for certain whether God had a hand in it, he wasn’t about to admit there had been miracle. “And what does that prove? The Devil might have resuscitated her,” he sputtered.

Alcuin took a triumphant breath. He had managed to make Korne fall into heresy. Now it would be easy to divert his attention, accusing him of blasphemy. “Are you denying this divine intervention?” he said, raising his voice. “Do you dare contradict God? To compare His infinite power with the degradation of the Devil? Kneel, blasphemer! Show your remorse and accept the ways of the Lord—or prepare for immediate torment.”

Alcuin snatched Izam’s sword from him and held it against Korne’s throat.

“Swear before God!” he commanded him, holding out the Bible. “Swear before God that you renounce the Devil!”

Sweat appeared on Korne’s brow while he swore as ordered. Then he stood and left the room, biting his lip.

Once they were left alone, Flavio remonstrated with Alcuin. He was the papal envoy and, therefore, the only person authorized to pass judgment on a divine intervention. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but perhaps you have been too hasty. Sometimes, astonishing events are caused by the most trivial circumstances. After
all, Zeno says that the body that burned in the fire was unrecognizable.”

“Look, Flavio: Zeno wouldn’t even recognize his own mother,” Alcuin retorted, pointing at the sixth cup of wine that he had emptied.

“But, damn it! You could at least have waited to share your vision until after Theresa woke up, so she could tell us what happened. I assure you that if the miracle is real, I will be the first to celebrate it.”

“You heard Wilfred say what kind of a man that Korne is. He’s driven to do away with Theresa. The young woman was in danger, so if a miracle will help me save her life, why not welcome it?”

“What are you saying? That you made it up? You didn’t have that vision?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“God Almighty! And could you not think of anything else aside from inventing a miracle?”

“Flavio, after what happened in the fire, it is a miracle indeed that the young woman lives. It’s just as if she had been resurrected. What’s more, God assists us in different ways. You with your relics, and me with my visions,” he declared.

At that moment a disheveled and frightened maidservant came into the room.

“The girl’s waking up,” she announced.

They both rushed to where Theresa was resting. Alcuin saw that her face was beaded with sweat. He removed the blankets that covered her and asked for a candle to be brought over. Then he soaked a cloth in warm water and carefully cleaned the girl’s face. Next, as he normally did with his students suffering from exposure to the elements, he rubbed down both of her arms, concentrating on the joints.

Gradually the color returned to her cheeks. Her eyelids fluttered and—following a few moments of uncertainty—they opened, revealing reddened eyes with irises reflecting a beautiful syrupy hue.

Alcuin smiled and said hello to the young woman before tracing the sign of the cross on her forehead. Then he helped her lift her head, placing a cushion under it.

“Theresa,” Alcuin whispered.

She acknowledged him with a breath. In front of her she saw the bony figure of a man at peace.

“Welcome home,” said the monk.

Alcuin endeavored to explain all that happened since their arrival, but Theresa did not understand. Her head felt as if it had been kicked by a horse, and the story of a miracle was so confusing it seem like it had been taken from the dream of a lunatic. She lifted her head and asked for a little water. Then, when she heard the tale again, she looked at Alcuin as though he were a stranger. At that moment Wilfred came in and Alcuin whispered to Theresa to play along.

“Theresa, do you recognize me?” the count asked, pleased to have found her awake.

The young woman looked at the dogs and nodded.

“God rejoices at your return, as do we, of course. It has been a sad time, but you have nothing to worry about now. Soon everything will go back to how it was.”

Theresa smiled timidly.

In response Wilfred gave her a forced grin. “I would like you to try to remember. Do you recall what happened in the fire?”

Theresa looked at Alcuin as if seeking his approval. The monk said nothing, so she responded with a stammer.

“Then I imagine you will want to tell us about it,” he said, his face moving closer to hers. “Did you see the Redeemer? Did you
discern His appearance? Do not worry if you can’t respond—it was He who returned you to us.”

Theresa thought the question odd and wasn’t sure how to respond.

Alcuin stepped in. “Perhaps she needs to rest. She’s confused. She hit her head and hardly remembers anything,” he declared.

“Very well… that’s understandable. But as soon as she recovers, let me know. Remember that it was me who buried her charred remains.”

Wilfred said a halfhearted good-bye before leaving the room. Meanwhile, Alcuin examined the contraption that transported him. He handled the dog chair like a seasoned cart driver, easily negotiating the thresholds and loose tiles that got in his way. He noticed that the contraption had a chamber pot housed in the rear to assist his bowel movements. The skill with which he handled the hounds told him that he had been in that condition for some years.

Alcuin turned to Theresa. The young woman was giving him an inquisitive look.

“Look,” he said, sitting beside her. “The ways of the Lord take strange twists and turns: tortuous paths that sometimes confuse the foolish, but not those who have devoted their lives to following His doctrine. It is obvious that your time has not come yet. Perhaps because you have not yet made yourself worthy of the Kingdom of Heaven, though this does not mean you cannot achieve it.”

Theresa was feeling increasingly confused. She did not comprehend what was happening, nor why they were insisting she had been resurrected.

“And my parents?” she asked.

“Your stepmother awaits in the antechamber. You will see her soon.”

Theresa slowly lifted herself up. Her head was pounding.

She recognized Wilfred’s room. She had been there on occasion to meet her father, but it had never seemed so cold and desolate.

Alcuin helped her sit up. She touched her head, noticing a painful bump. Alcuin explained that she had hit her head during a skirmish with bandits. As the memory came back to her, Theresa inquired after Izam and Hoos. Alcuin informed her they were both busy unloading the ship.

“I want to see my parents,” she insisted.

Alcuin asked her to be patient. He told her that Rutgarda seemed traumatized, and they still had not found Gorgias. Theresa became agitated, but Alcuin soothed her, saying that he would speak to Wilfred to learn what had happened. As for the miracle, he confessed that he had been forced to make it up.

“Korne would not have accepted any other explanation. I know it was blasphemous, but at that moment, I could not think of anything more suitable.”

“But why a miracle?”

“Because, in the words of Wilfred, they had found your charred remains.”

“My remains?”

“A body they thought was yours, and which apparently still wore a blue dress that Gorgias recognized as the one you had on that day.”

“That poor girl.” She recalled again how she had not been able to do anything to save her. “I tried to protect her with my wet dress,” she explained, relating the details of what had happened during the fire.

“I imagined that’s what anyone with half a brain would have done, but not the notables that inhabit this town. That was why I thought it would be helpful if these
notables
saw the hand of God in your return. And I also considered the fact that Korne the parchment-maker is eager to avenge his son’s death. For the time being, he has sworn to respect you, but I do not believe that will stop him for long.”

He informed her that he would tell her stepmother to come in and see her. “One last thing.” He gave Theresa a grim look. “If you want to live, don’t speak to anyone about the miracle.”

25

Alcuin was settled into a cell in the southern wing of the fortress, near Izam’s room and adjoining Flavio’s. From his window he could see the Main Valley, with the foothills of the Rhön Mountains in the background. On the fields, the snow was beginning to thin, but on the peaks it continued to gleam as if the mountains had been given a coat of paint. He noticed the strange formations scattered around the landscape wherever the forests became sparse. Observing them more closely, he noted the presence of a myriad of cavities bored into brownish mounds. They were similar to mining tunnels, and as he dressed he wondered whether they were, in fact, mining tunnels and if they were in use.

He went down to dinner after None and met with Wilfred in the armory, accompanied by Theodor, the giant he used as a draft animal when the dogs were locked away.

The count seemed pleased to see him and impatient to learn more about the miracle, but Alcuin was only interested in talking about the parchment that Charlemagne had commissioned Wilfred to prepare. He decided to wait until the giant retired to his chambers before raising the subject. However, Theodor remained impassive behind the chair for a long time until Wilfred finally ordered him to leave.

“A veritable mountain in trousers! I have never seen a man so large,” said Alcuin.

“And loyal as a dog. All he’s missing is the wagging tail. So tell me, are your chambers to your liking?”

“Certainly. The views are excellent.”

“Some wine?”

Alcuin declined the offer and sat down in front of the count, waiting for the right moment to bring up the subject that pressed on his mind. “Do you lock away the dogs at night?” he asked.

Wilfred explained that he only used them in the morning—for certain routes free of stairs. He also liked to go out with them into Würzburg’s streets, particularly the best kept ones.

“Sometimes I even venture out of the city,” he said with a smile. “You should see how they understand my expressions. One blink from me and they will set upon the first person I signal.”

“With the carriage still harnessed to their backs?”

“I will tell you a secret,” he said, still smiling.

Wilfred activated a device on one of the armrests and a spring released the rings used to harness the hounds to the contraption.

“Very clever.”

“Indeed,” he said with pride. “I had it installed myself. The most difficult thing was hardening the strip of metal so that it could be used as a spring, but our blacksmith is talented enough he could build a harp and make it play itself.” He reinserted the rings into their housing and reset the spring. “But that’s enough about dogs—let’s talk about Theresa. I don’t think any other matter is more significant now.”

They spoke of the celestial apparition, which Alcuin repeated from top to bottom, adding one or two more fabricated details.

When he had finished, Wilfred seemed perplexed, but without stopping to reflect, the count seemed to accept Alcuin’s theory and insisted again that he try the wine. This time the monk accepted.
When he had finished his cup, he inquired again about the parchment.

“It’s almost complete. You will be able to see it soon,” said Wilfred apologetically.

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather see it now.”

Wilfred cleared his throat and shook his head. Then he nodded toward his contraption. “Help me, please.”

Alcuin positioned himself behind the wheelchair and pushed Wilfred in the direction he indicated. As they reached a chest of drawers in his room, the count asked Alcuin to pass him a coffer that the monk estimated to be one cubit long by half a cubit wide. Wilfred opened it, revealing its interior, which was empty. Then he lifted a false bottom and took from it a document that he held out nervously to Alcuin. The monk took it and held it in the candlelight.

“But this is just a draft.”

“As I said, it is not ready yet.”

“I know that’s what you told me, but Charlemagne will not accept that answer. It has been several months. Why is it not ready yet?”

“There was only enough parchment left for two trial runs. It is a special parchment. Uterine vellum: you know, the one made from unborn calf’s skin.”

“Everyone knows what vellum is,” he murmured.

“This is different, brought in from Byzantium. Anyhow, the only copy was lost in the fire, so Gorgias started another. But a few weeks ago the scribe disappeared from the scriptorium along with the document.”

“I don’t understand—what do you mean?”

“About two months ago I met with him in my chambers, and he assured me that he would have it finished within a few days. However, that same morning he vanished as if by magic.”

“And since then?”

“Nobody has seen him,” he lamented. “As far as I know, Genseric was the last person to see him. He accompanied him to the scriptorium to collect a few things and was never seen again.”