The Scribe(172)
“I don’t know where to begin,” said the monk. “First, I pray to God that He may be the one to judge me for my rights and wrongs. On the one hand, I feel honored to have served Him, and on the other, I regret my wrongdoings, even if I did commit them in His name. He knows everything, and I commend myself to Him.” He paused and looked at the two of them. “It is easy to pass judgment in hindsight. I may have erred by using lies, but I am consoled to think that I was guided only by what I felt inside to be just and Christian. Accidere ex una cintilla incendia passim. On occasions, a tiny spark can cause a great fire. I must accept that I’m ultimately responsible for all that has happened here, and even if because of the bitter consequences, I offer you my apologies. That said, you must know the events that led to how your father ended up in a grave in the cemetery.”
Theresa looked at Izam and he squeezed her hands. She trusted him. She turned back to Alcuin and listened.
“As I have already said, I met your father in Italy. There I convinced him to come with me to Würzburg, where he worked for me for many years. His knowledge of Latin and Greek were providential for me for translations of codices and epistles. He always told me he liked to write as much or more than he liked a good roast dinner,” he said with a sad smile. “Perhaps that was why, when at the beginning of the winter I proposed that he copy the parchment, your father immediately accepted. He knew its significance, but not its falsity, something which, I repeat, I have no qualms about.” He stood and continued his account pacing around the room. “Wilfred, His Holiness the Pope, and, of course, Charlemagne, knew about his activity. Unfortunately, Flavio found out, too, and the empress of Byzantium must have deceived him and corrupted him with money.
“That’s when Flavio devised a plan worthy of the Devil’s own son. He knew Genseric, who had lived in Rome before settling in Würzburg, so he persuaded the pope to send him to Aquis-Granum with the relics of the Santa Croce. Through an emissary, he convinced Genseric with bribes to keep him informed, and he traveled to Fulda with the chest containing the lignum crucis, which he intended to use as a hiding place for Constantine’s parchment when he transported it to Byzantium. Genseric, meanwhile, sought the assistance of Hoos Larsson, an unscrupulous young man he did not hesitate to hire in order to help him get his hands on the document.”
Theresa did not know why she was still listening to him. This saintly monk had falsely accused her of stealing the parchment, and if it were not for Izam’s victory, he would have insisted on her being burned alive. But she stayed because of Izam.
“Genseric enjoyed Wilfred’s favor,” Alcuin continued. “He had access to the scriptorium, and he knew the progress your father was making. I imagine that back in January, because of the amount of time that had passed since Gorgias first began his work on the document, he assumed that it was finished, so he ordered Hoos to get hold of the parchment through whatever means necessary. Hoos attacked Gorgias and wounded him. But he did not get what he wanted, because, fortunately for your father, he went off with only a partial draft.”
Fortunately for your father. Inwardly, Theresa cursed him.
“That is when the seal of Constantine enters the stage.” Alcuin went over to a cupboard and took from it a beautifully carved dagger. Theresa recognized it as the one Hoos Larsson had. “We found it on Hoos in the gorge,” he explained. With some effort he rotated the handle until it clicked. From inside he removed a cylinder with a face carved into one end. Alcuin soaked it in ink and pressed it onto a parchment. “Constantine’s seal,” he announced. “After stealing it from Wilfred, Genseric gave it to Hoos to keep hidden.”
“Wilfred had the seal?” Izam asked.
“Indeed. As you know, the parchment had three components: the medium itself, made from extremely fine vellum of unborn calf; the text in Latin and Greek, which Gorgias had to transcribe; and Constantine’s seal. Without all three things, it would be worthless. When Genseric saw that the stolen document was incomplete, he decided to snatch the seal.”
“But what did Flavio want? The seal or the parchment?” Theresa cut in.
“Sorry if I’m confusing you,” the monk said. “Flavio wanted to prevent the document from being presented to the council. He had various options: steal the document, take possession of the seal, or eliminate your father. They attempted them in that order. Bear in mind that, if they could get their hands on an original, they could demonstrate that the document was a fake in the event that it was transcribed onto another parchment.”
“And that’s why they kept my father alive.”
“Undoubtedly they would have killed him had he finished the document. But now let us return to Constantine’s seal.” Alcuin stopped to pick up a piece of cake, finishing it in just a few bites. Then he cleaned the seal and screwed it back into the dagger. “Hoos retreated to his cabin looking for somewhere to hide the dagger. There, as you told me, he found you in trouble.”
“Though it pains me to admit it, he saved me from two Saxons.”
“And you repaid him by running off with his dagger?”
Theresa nodded. She knew then why Hoos had been so keen to find her.
“When you went to Fulda, naturally I recognized you. I didn’t recall your face, but aside from Gorgias’s daughter, I don’t think there’s another young woman in all Franconia who can read Greek written on a jar.”