The Scribe(105)
Alcuin tensed. He had assumed that Lothar would crumble under the weight of his arguments, but he had risen to the challenge. Now, without solid proof, it would be difficult to gain Charlemagne’s support. He looked at the king, who shook his head disapprovingly.
Alcuin was about to speak up when Theresa stood and walked toward Charlemagne.
“I have that proof,” she announced in a firm voice, taking from her bag a crumpled sheet.
Everyone fell silent.
Standing before the king, Theresa unfurled the page from the polyptych that she had managed to tear from the volume moments before Lothar had cast it into the fire. Alcuin looked at her in astonishment.
The king took the page from her and examined it closely. Then he showed it to Lothar, who could not believe his eyes.
“Damned witch! Where did you get this?”
The king moved the sheet away from Lothar before he could snatch it from him. Then he gave it to Alcuin. Theresa handed him some ash so he could repeat the process of rubbing, slowly in the reverse direction, before everyone present. When the hidden text emerged, the king read it out loud.
But Lothar fought back. “And who says I had a hand in it? That text was written two years ago by the previous abbot. He was in charge of all the polyptychs. Ask anyone.”
Several monks confirmed Lothar’s claims.
Theresa boldly intervened. “That’s right. The original text that the ash reveals was written by the abbot, but the subsequent scraping and the new text that covers it was written by you, by your hand. You wrote it thinking that it would conceal the only proof that linked the wheat to the Plague.”
“I never wrote that text!” Lothar cried in fury.
“Yes, you did,” the young woman insisted. “I confirmed it myself by checking it against your letters. In nomine Pater.”
“Ha! What letters, you pathetic liar?” he said, giving her a slap in the face that echoed in the church. “There are no letters. There are no documents.”
Theresa looked impotently at Alcuin, realizing that Lothar would have time to destroy any documents that could incriminate him.
However, Charlemagne stood. “Let us test her claims,” he said, removing a sealed scroll that he had been keeping close to his chest. He broke the seal and carefully unrolled it. “Do you recall this epistle, Lothar? It is the missive you dispatched to me yesterday, a copy of the message you were planning to send to the rest of the bishops. You submitted it to me as evidence of your forthright Christian conduct, I suppose, as a preliminary step before requesting a higher position.”
Charlemagne’s eyes fell on the words: In nomine Pater. The handwriting was identical to the text written on the palimpsest, down to the last detail.
“Do you have anything to say?” the king asked Lothar.
The bishop was speechless with rage. Suddenly he turned toward Theresa and tried to hit her, but Alcuin stood in the way. Lothar tried again, but the monk stopped him, knocking him down with a punch.
“I have been wanting to do that for a long time,” he murmured as he massaged his fist.
Four days later, Alcuin told Theresa that Lothar had been arrested and taken to a cell where he would stay until his trial. He said it had not yet been revealed when the bishop discovered the wheat was contaminated, but it was clear that, despite being aware of it, he had continued to sell the grain as if nothing had happened. Kohl was freed after it was determined his involvement in the plot wasn’t intentional, as was The Swine. Although, unfortunately, his spirit was as broken and battered as a frightened puppy.
“Will they execute the bishop?” Theresa asked as she tidied away some manuscripts.
“To be honest, I don’t think so. Considering Lothar is a relative of the king, and he will continue to hold the position of bishop, I fear that sooner or later he will evade his punishment.”
Theresa continued to stack the codices she had been using all morning. It was the first time she had returned to the abbey scriptorium since Lothar’s guilt had been uncovered.
“It doesn’t seem fair,” she said.
“If at times divine justice is hard to comprehend, imagine trying to understand worldly law,” Alcuin responded.
“But so many people have died.”
“Death is not paid for with death. In this world in which the light of life is so easily extinguished at the whim of sickness, at the mercy of hunger, war, or the inclemencies of nature, nothing will be gained from executing a criminal. Reparations for the lives of murder victims are dealt according to their wealth and the wealth of their murderer. It is wealth that determines the severity of the punishment.”
“And since many of the dead are not rich…”
“I can see you learn quickly. For instance, the murder of a young woman of childbearing age is punishable with a fine of six hundred solidi, the same as if she were a boy under twelve. However, if the deceased is a girl under the age of twelve, the penalty could just be two hundred.”
“And what do you want me to understand?”
“In the eyes of God, man and woman are equal, but in the eyes of men, evidently, they are not: A man generates money and riches, while a woman creates children and problems.”
“Children that will bring wealth and labor,” Theresa added. “What’s more, if God created man in his image and likeness, why doesn’t man take God’s viewpoint?”