The Scribe(135)

“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.