The Scribe(136)

“Korne would not have accepted any other explanation. I know it was blasphemous, but at that moment, I could not think of anything more suitable.”

“But why a miracle?”

“Because, in the words of Wilfred, they had found your charred remains.”

“My remains?”

“A body they thought was yours, and which apparently still wore a blue dress that Gorgias recognized as the one you had on that day.”

“That poor girl.” She recalled again how she had not been able to do anything to save her. “I tried to protect her with my wet dress,” she explained, relating the details of what had happened during the fire.

“I imagined that’s what anyone with half a brain would have done, but not the notables that inhabit this town. That was why I thought it would be helpful if these notables saw the hand of God in your return. And I also considered the fact that Korne the parchment-maker is eager to avenge his son’s death. For the time being, he has sworn to respect you, but I do not believe that will stop him for long.”

He informed her that he would tell her stepmother to come in and see her. “One last thing.” He gave Theresa a grim look. “If you want to live, don’t speak to anyone about the miracle.”





25

Alcuin was settled into a cell in the southern wing of the fortress, near Izam’s room and adjoining Flavio’s. From his window he could see the Main Valley, with the foothills of the Rh?n Mountains in the background. On the fields, the snow was beginning to thin, but on the peaks it continued to gleam as if the mountains had been given a coat of paint. He noticed the strange formations scattered around the landscape wherever the forests became sparse. Observing them more closely, he noted the presence of a myriad of cavities bored into brownish mounds. They were similar to mining tunnels, and as he dressed he wondered whether they were, in fact, mining tunnels and if they were in use.

He went down to dinner after None and met with Wilfred in the armory, accompanied by Theodor, the giant he used as a draft animal when the dogs were locked away.

The count seemed pleased to see him and impatient to learn more about the miracle, but Alcuin was only interested in talking about the parchment that Charlemagne had commissioned Wilfred to prepare. He decided to wait until the giant retired to his chambers before raising the subject. However, Theodor remained impassive behind the chair for a long time until Wilfred finally ordered him to leave.

“A veritable mountain in trousers! I have never seen a man so large,” said Alcuin.

“And loyal as a dog. All he’s missing is the wagging tail. So tell me, are your chambers to your liking?”

“Certainly. The views are excellent.”

“Some wine?”

Alcuin declined the offer and sat down in front of the count, waiting for the right moment to bring up the subject that pressed on his mind. “Do you lock away the dogs at night?” he asked.

Wilfred explained that he only used them in the morning—for certain routes free of stairs. He also liked to go out with them into Würzburg’s streets, particularly the best kept ones.

“Sometimes I even venture out of the city,” he said with a smile. “You should see how they understand my expressions. One blink from me and they will set upon the first person I signal.”

“With the carriage still harnessed to their backs?”

“I will tell you a secret,” he said, still smiling.

Wilfred activated a device on one of the armrests and a spring released the rings used to harness the hounds to the contraption.

“Very clever.”

“Indeed,” he said with pride. “I had it installed myself. The most difficult thing was hardening the strip of metal so that it could be used as a spring, but our blacksmith is talented enough he could build a harp and make it play itself.” He reinserted the rings into their housing and reset the spring. “But that’s enough about dogs—let’s talk about Theresa. I don’t think any other matter is more significant now.”

They spoke of the celestial apparition, which Alcuin repeated from top to bottom, adding one or two more fabricated details.

When he had finished, Wilfred seemed perplexed, but without stopping to reflect, the count seemed to accept Alcuin’s theory and insisted again that he try the wine. This time the monk accepted. When he had finished his cup, he inquired again about the parchment.

“It’s almost complete. You will be able to see it soon,” said Wilfred apologetically.

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather see it now.”

Wilfred cleared his throat and shook his head. Then he nodded toward his contraption. “Help me, please.”

Alcuin positioned himself behind the wheelchair and pushed Wilfred in the direction he indicated. As they reached a chest of drawers in his room, the count asked Alcuin to pass him a coffer that the monk estimated to be one cubit long by half a cubit wide. Wilfred opened it, revealing its interior, which was empty. Then he lifted a false bottom and took from it a document that he held out nervously to Alcuin. The monk took it and held it in the candlelight.

“But this is just a draft.”

“As I said, it is not ready yet.”

“I know that’s what you told me, but Charlemagne will not accept that answer. It has been several months. Why is it not ready yet?”