The Scribe(100)

“How readily you forget our laws!” he said, smiling paternally. “We bishops are not of the same class of people, who like common subjects, must consign themselves to vassalage. Nor must we make oaths of any kind. You know that the evangelical and canonical code forbids it. You know that the rank and position of bishop is one bestowed upon us by God. Our positions cannot be taken away by anyone’s whim, not even the king’s. Everything associated with the Church is consecrated to God. But even if I could swear an oath… how dare you demand that I do so? For if you believed that I am telling the truth, then what would be the point in swearing? And if you believed that my word is false, then by demanding I take an oath, you would be leading me into error, and in doing so, encouraging the perpetration of sin.”

Alcuin tried to contradict him, but to his despair, the papal envoy appeared to agree with Lothar’s argument.

“Well, then. It seems obvious that the mill owner is guilty,” the monarch concluded. “A batch of wheat has been found in his possession containing the seed that apparently produces the poison, and that is something irrefutable, so I see no reason, Alcuin, why you continue to protect him. Unless, of course, you are involved, as Lothar suggests.”

Alcuin gave him a grim look. “Since when has an innocent man been obliged to defend himself? Where are the twelve men required for the accusation to be valid? Lothar’s words have been nothing more than quibbles, nonsense, and buffoonery. If you will grant me a few hours, I will prove—”

At that moment, the crash of a falling candelabra made everyone turn in surprise.

Theresa crouched behind the balustrade. In her eagerness to hear what was being said, she had leaned against the candles, and her weight had sent the entire structure plummeting to the ground.

One of the clerics caught a glimpse of her and on his command, two acolytes ran toward the choir. When they found that it was a woman, they grabbed her and shoved her in the direction of Lothar, who instructed her to kneel and beg for forgiveness.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the bear hunter!” said the king in surprise. “May I ask why you were hiding?”

Theresa kissed the royal ring before begging for mercy. Stammering, she explained that she was looking for a missing friend whom she had mistakenly thought had died and was now fleeing from her for some reason. She emphasized that she had not heard what they were discussing, and that all she wanted was to know why her friend Helga was running away from her.

When the young woman finished babbling, Charlemagne looked her up and down. For a moment he thought she had lost her senses, though her explanation was so hasty and strange that he decided perhaps she was no liar.

“And you thought you might find your friend up there in the choir?”

Theresa reddened.

“She is Alcuin’s assistant, my Lord,” Lothar interjected. “Perhaps you would like to interrogate her.”

“I don’t think so. I would rather take a break now. Maybe in prayer I will find an answer.”

“But, Your Majesty. You cannot… Alcuin needs to be punished immediately,” he insisted.

“After some prayers,” said the monarch. “Meanwhile, keep him under guard in his cell.” He signaled to have Alcuin escorted away and then left through a side door, cutting Lothar short.

At once the bishop forgot about Theresa and addressed the sentry who was taking Alcuin to his cell, telling him to make sure he did not leave it under any circumstance.

“If he needs to relieve himself, he can do so out of the window,” he blurted out.

Two guards escorted Alcuin back to his cell, flanking him on either side. Theresa followed a few steps behind. As they walked, the young woman tried to apologize, but at each attempt the monk only quickened his pace.

“I did not meant to incriminate you,” she finally managed to say.

“Well, according to Lothar, it seems a little too late for that.” He kept walking without looking back at her. For the entire trip back to his cell, Theresa kept apologizing for what she had done, all the while asking herself why she was doing so. For after all, the monk had used her for his own purposes. He had locked her up, and if it had been left up to him, nobody would know yet about the cause of the Plague. There was also the matter of the folia, in which he had accused Kohl as the culprit, something he had never mentioned to Theresa before.

As she struggled to sort through her thoughts, Alcuin went into his cell. But, before the guard locked him in, he turned to Theresa, and taking her hands into his, he said in Greek: “Return to the episcopal scriptorium and reexamine the polyptychs.”

Then the guard closed the door, giving Theresa an arrogant look. She turned and ran toward the kitchens, pressing against the key that Alcuin had just given her to her chest.





19

When she reached the kitchens, Theresa found Favila wrestling with a chicken. “So you heard the news of the postponed execution too? Truly, I don’t know what they are waiting for to bring that murderer to justice,” she said as a greeting to Theresa as she continued to pluck feathers from the bird.

Theresa nodded without making a fuss, but she felt annoyed that Favila and everyone else took for granted The Swine had killed the miller’s daughter.

“Have you seen Helga?” she asked halfheartedly.

The woman shook her head no as she jointed the chicken.