The Scribe(123)
In the morning, the young man told her the terrible news. “I wish I did not have to tell you this, Theresa, but Gorgias, your father… has disappeared.”
She looked at him in disbelief. Then she moved away from him.
She asked him a hundred times what he was referring to, and she hated him for not telling her the night before. He could not explain why he hadn’t shared the news until the next day.
He told her that, in Würzburg, Count Wilfred had informed him about the fire. It didn’t take him long to figure out that the girl everyone believed to be dead was the same young woman he was in love with.
“When we met, you told me that you worked as an official parchment-maker—that you had fled Würzburg and were born in Byzantium. It all fit together.”
“And you told them?”
“Of course not. But Wilfred said to me that the girl’s father, or in other words, your father, had disappeared. He spoke of nothing else, as if he was desperate to find him.”
“But what do you mean has disappeared?” Tears ran down her cheeks. “How did it happen? Have they searched very hard for him?”
“Theresa, I don’t know. I wish I could tell you something more, but nobody knows. They haven’t seen him, and of course they’ve looked all over. Wilfred ordered a house-to-house search. He issued an edict and even organized a search party to comb the surrounding area. To be honest, I think you should go back to Würzburg. Your presence might aid the search.”
Theresa nodded. She was glad she had pressed Alcuin to allow her to accompany him. Then she remembered the attack on her father at the parchment-maker’s workshop. That time the assailant had only managed to wound his arm, but perhaps he would attempt to do worse. Her weeping prevented her from continuing. Hoos tried to console her—and though he did not manage to, Theresa appreciated the warmth of his arms.
Midmorning, Theresa set off for the chapter. There she found Helga organizing the sacks of food. Before turning to her, the woman finished straightening a final row and then stopped for a moment. At first Theresa made small talk, but her red eyes gave away the torment that she was feeling. She recounted everything to her friend: the terrible fire, the death of the girl, her father’s disappearance, and her intention to return to Würzburg.
When she had finished, Helga could not believe she was looking at a fugitive. She warmed a cup of milk for her, which Theresa drank in little sips. Helga asked her what she was going to do.
“How am I supposed to know?” she sobbed.
“Take my advice and forget your family,” she said, delicately wiping her tears. “Enjoy your new life now. You’ve found a suitor and now have more than what I or any of my friends could ever have dreamt of. If you go back to Würzburg, you will no doubt be arrested. That Korne that you speak of sounds like an evil bastard.”
Theresa nodded. In truth she was crying because she feared that her father was dead, which, as Hoos had pointed out, was quite likely.
She hugged Helga and kissed her on the cheek. When she had calmed down, her friend agreed to accompany her to the city walls, where she was to meet Olaf to give him some equipment.
They passed the time kneading spelt dough to bake some buns that they would give to Lucille’s boys. After lunch, they gathered up their things and asked Favila for permission to leave for a while.
On the way to the poor quarter, they noticed a stranger who seemed to be following them. At first they didn’t pay him any attention, but as they turned into a narrow street, he ran after them and stood in their path. It was Widukind, Helga’s violent ex-lover.
Now that he was close, they could see he had been drinking heavily. The man didn’t seem to quite know what he wanted. He was staring at them like an imbecile, with a permanent smile on his face. Suddenly he tried to grab Helga’s belly, but she pulled back. Theresa stood between the drunk and her friend.
“Out of the way, whore!” he threatened her.
He tried to shove her aside but he stumbled, and Theresa took the opportunity to draw her scramasax and she pushed it against his throat. She could smell the wine on his breath.
“If you don’t leave, I swear, I’ll stick you like a pig.”
She would have done it without hesitation, and the man sensed it. He spat on the ground and smiled again. Then he staggered off muttering to himself. When he had gone, Helga broke down in tears of desperation.
“I hadn’t seen him for days. The bastard won’t stop till he’s killed me.”
Theresa tried to console her, but there was nothing she could do. She took her back to the chapter and then returned to the walls alone, but by the time she had reached the place where she had agreed to meet Olaf, he was gone. She waited in case he came back, but finally decided to get going because the sun was going down and she wanted to give the buns to the children.
As she walked, she thought about telling Hoos about Widukind, wondering if he could scare him off since he was strong and skilled with weapons. If he had a word with Widukind, perhaps he could pacify him. As she continued down the path, she remembered the previous night, and she thought that Hoos, as well as being strong, would make the best husband anyone could hope for.
It was Saturday. As she walked, she recalled that Hoos had told her that the delegation would leave on Sunday morning. For a moment she wondered what she would do. On the one hand she longed to stay in Fulda, look after her land, and start a family, but her desire to return to Würzburg and find out what had happened to her father was even stronger.