The Scribe(117)

A dealer approached to help him make his mind up. “You have a good eye, monk! Quite an animal you’re looking at.”

Alcuin gave him a sidelong glance. Though he did not like to do business with dubious traders, he had to admit that the beast seemed strong as iron. He asked for the price and the man thought about it. “Since it’s for the clergy… fifty solidi.”

Alcuin’s look was of such indignation that the man immediately brought the figure down to forty-five.

“That’s still a lot of money.”

The animal stood before them impressively.

“If you want a horned goat, I can sell you one for thirty-five,” the dealer blurted out without much interest.

Alcuin told the man he would think about it. Then he and Theresa returned to the area where the slaves were sold. At the entrance, Alcuin asked Theresa to let him continue alone in order to make haste. The young woman agreed to meet him back at the same place when the sun reached its highest point.

While Alcuin bartered with the merchants, Theresa decided to take another look at the livestock. On her way there, a trader offered her a few coins for her body and she quickened her pace. When she reached the pen with the ox that had interested Alcuin, a little man hobbled up to her.

“I wouldn’t pay more than ten solidi for it,” he said, giving her a sideways glance.

Theresa turned in surprise to see an unkempt middle-aged man, leaning against the timber fence and staring brazenly at her. His blond hair matched his ice-blue eyes. However, his most striking feature was the fact that he was supported by just one leg. Seeing Theresa’s surprise, he jumped in. “I lost it working, but I’m still useful,” he explained.

“And what do you know about oxen?” she asked him haughtily. It was obvious the man was a slave, and if one day she was to own one, she thought she should know how to handle them.

“I was born in Friesland, where there is more cattle than there is pasture. Even a blind man can spot a sick ox.”

While the herder was distracted, the man took the opportunity to strike the animal with his stick. The beast didn’t flinch.

“See? And the same thing will happen when it’s yoked. It won’t move.”

Theresa looked at the man in surprise. Then her eyes followed the slave’s stick as he pointed at the animal’s hoofs, which were encrusted in dried blood.

“If you want a good animal, see my master, Fior. He won’t cheat you.”

At that moment the owner of the ox returned and the slave slunk off. Theresa noticed that he used a crutch in place of his absent leg. She ran after him and asked where she could find Fior. The slave told her to follow him.

As they walked, he told her that Fior only sold small oxen.

“They’re not as powerful, but strong enough to pull a light plow. However, they’re resilient, they don’t need much food, and they cost less. For these lands they are just what you need.”

They walked among the carts, dodging the streams of detritus that zigzagged from the camp down toward the stream, until a woman and two little boys came out to meet them. One of the little boys came from the slave stands. The woman embraced the one-legged man, and the children tugged at his clothes. Theresa noticed how thin the woman and the boys were. Their eyes were like great sunken dishes on tiny skulls.

“Did you get anything?” the woman asked.

From the pocket of his trousers, the slave took a bundle of cheese and gave it to her. She smelled it and cried with joy. Then she picked up the children and carried them behind a tent to feed them. The slave hobbled over to Fior to explain to his master what the young woman needed, which is when Alcuin appeared with a cross expression on his face. He was accompanied by the owner of the giant ox.

“This trader says a crippled slave stole some cheese from him. And he says the slave was with you. Is that right?” he asked Theresa.

The young woman understood what had happened. Behind the tent, the slave’s two boys were still devouring the cheese. Their punishment would undoubtedly be horrific.

“Not exactly,” she lied. “It was me who told him to take it. He had no money with him so I came to find his master so that he would pay for it.”

“That’s theft!” cried the merchant.

“It was theft trying to sell us a sick ox,” Theresa retorted fearlessly. “Here,” she said, taking the pouch from Alcuin’s robe and giving him a couple of coins, much to the monk’s surprise. “And get out of my sight before I go to the judge.”

There trader took the money and left muttering curses. Alcuin gave Theresa a stern look.

“He tried to trick us,” she explained, pointing after the livestock merchant.

Alcuin’s expression did not change.

“This slave took the cheese for his children. Look at them! They’re on death’s door!”

“He’s a thief. And you were foolish to attempt to protect him.”

“Very well. Then go back to that saintly ox trader and spend your money on a useless beast. All I know is that the slave warned me against that swindler and his children have perhaps not eaten for a week.”

Alcuin shook his head. Then he accompanied her to go and speak with the livestock merchant and owner of the slave.


Fior turned out to be a stout man who would only do business with a glass of wine in his hand. As soon as he had greeted them, he offered them a drink and showed them several animals brimming with health and vitality. He offered them a medium-sized dappled ox, which he assured them would work like a maniac from day one.