The Scribe(46)
An hour later he returned laden with sheets of parchment, inkwells, and other writing utensils. He told Gorgias that he would visit him every day to check on his progress, bring food, and remove his excrement. Before leaving he also assured him that he would visit Rutgarda. Then he said farewell and left the crypt, leaving Gorgias with his equipment.
When Gorgias was sure he was alone, he began work. He took one of the codices from among those that Genseric had brought and turned his back to the door to hide his movements as an extra precaution. With the utmost care, he unfolded a blank parchment. Spreading it out on the desk, he brought the words to mind as if he were reading them:
IN-NOMINE-SANCTAE-ET-INDIVIDUAL-TRINITATIS-PATRIS-SCILICET-ET-FILII-ET-SPIRITUS-SANCTI
- - -
IMPERATOR-CAESAR-FLAVIUS-CONSTANTINUS
He knew the text by heart. He had read the heading a hundred times and transcribed it just as many. He crossed himself before beginning and checked the quality of the skin on which he would make the copy. Despite its rather large size, it was still too small for the twenty-three pages in Latin and twenty in Greek that he would need. He ran his fingers over the imperial seal printed at the foot of the parchment that depicted a Greek cross over a Roman head. Encircling the seal was the name Gaius Flavius Valerius Aurelius Constantinus—Constantine the Great, the first Christian emperor and founder of Constantinople.
Legend had it that Constantine’s conversion had taken place four centuries ago, during the Battle of the Milvian Bridge. It was said that, shortly before the attack, the Roman emperor saw a cross floating in the sky. Inspired by the image he embroidered the Christian symbol onto his standards. The battle ended in victory for Constantine and in gratitude he renounced paganism.
Gorgias reflected on the document, which was divided into two different texts. The first part, or the Confessio, recounted that Constantine, now afflicted with leprosy, went to see the pagan priests at the Capitol in Rome, who advised him to dig a ditch, fill it with the blood of newly sacrificed children, and then bathe in it while the blood was still warm. However, the night before he was to do this, Constantine had a vision in which he was told to turn to Pope Sylvester and give up paganism. Constantine decided to obey his dream, so he converted and was cured.
The second part, entitled Donatio, spoke of the honors and privileges that, as payment for his cure, Constantine would grant the Church. The preeminence of the Roman Papacy over the patriarchates of Antioch, Alexandria, Constantinople, and Jerusalem was thus recognized. Moreover, to guarantee that the pontifical dignitaries held lands and possessions befitting their rank, he also donated the Lateran Palace, the city of Rome, all of Italy, and the entire West. Finally, so that he would not infringe upon the rights he had granted, Constantine declared he would build a new capital in Byzantium, where he and his descendants would limit themselves to governing the eastern territories. There was no doubt: That donation represented a great leap in the expansion of Christendom.
With the utmost care, he divided the parchment into the gatherings that would form the quinternions. Next he split the sheets into bifolios of an identical size and ensured that there were enough of them. Then he dipped his quill in the ink and began to transcribe the text on the sealed parchment from memory. Despite the persistent pain in his arm, he did not stop until the day’s end.
10
Theresa was surprised to find she wasn’t disturbed by the taxidermic process, and it even made her forget for a moment about the dagger. She could see that Althar had started building the frame for the bear’s great pelt. The structure had a central trunk, with two thinner poles serving as legs. The old man asked her to remove the skin to test the balance of the frame. Then he changed the position of the legs and shored them up with nails and wedges.
“We can always keep it together with some rope,” he said, unconvinced.
He assigned Theresa the job of separating the skin from the remains of fat, delousing it properly, and washing it with soap. She was accustomed to doing these same tasks in Korne’s workshop so it didn’t prove to be difficult. When she had finished, she dried the skin and hung it on the frame to air it out.
“Shall I clean the heads, too?” she asked.
“No. Not for now.” Althar climbed down from the stall and threw his mallet on the ground. “That’s a another matter entirely.”
He sat on a rock with the head between his legs to better examine it. After confirming that the blood had stopped flowing, he made a vertical incision with his knife from the crown to the back of the neck, and then added a second, horizontal line on the nape, forming an inverted T. He then removed the skin by pulling hard from the vertices, revealing the skull.
“Chuck the head in the cask,” Althar ordered.
Theresa did as she was told. As Althar added the hot water, the boiling lime ate away at the tissue still stuck to the skull. Althar repeated the operation with the other head.
By midmorning they had finished preparing the frame. Althar took one of the perfectly clean heads and patted it dry. Then he positioned it at the end of a branch, which served as a kind of spinal column, with the wooden poles sticking out like legs. The frame took on the appearance of a horrendous scarecrow. But Althar seemed satisfied with the work.
“When the skin’s been cured, we’ll be able to finish the job,” he declared.
On their way back to the cave, they passed some strange, very dirty-looking wooden chests. Theresa asked what they were used for.