The Scribe(73)

He kept kissing her as he moved on top of her. He slowly caressed her, relishing being between her legs—and then as he moved faster, she felt such delirious longing, as if the Devil possessed her. Finally, she felt the urgency of his desire release, and she wanted him to stay there, embracing her forever.

“I love you,” he said softly, holding her tightly.

She closed her eyes, yearning for him to tell her a thousand more times.

In the morning, when Hoos said good-bye, all she could hear was that he loved her.





15

Because she did not go to the scriptorium on Sundays, Theresa used the morning to tidy the loft and wash the pots and pans that had accumulated in the kitchen. Still, she decided that after lunch she would go to the abbey and feign an interest in Hoos’s whereabouts, to avoid arousing suspicion. While she cleaned the hostelry she remembered each kiss from the night before. She was imbued with the smell of Hoos, as if she had been rubbed with a cloth soaked in his essence. Hoos Larsson…

Before leaving, he had promised that on his return they would travel together to Aquis-Granum, to make a home for themselves on his land.

She imagined her life on Hoos’s estate, attending to the house during the day and pressing herself against his body each night. For a moment she forgot Helga and Alcuin’s problems, enraptured by the thought of Hoos. She thought of nothing else all morning.

By the time Helga arose, Theresa had already cleaned the same room four times. Helga complained of a burning in her stomach, which she tempered with a gulp of wine—which, in turn, made her retch several times. Her body still reeked of sweaty men, but she didn’t seem to care. She was surprised to find Theresa in the kitchen, for she didn’t remember that it was Sunday. She staggered over to a washbasin where she wetted her eyes just enough to clear the sleep from them.

“You’re not going to see the monks today?” she said, pouring herself some more wine.

“Sundays are for praying.”

“It must be because they have nothing better to do,” Helga said with envy. “I don’t know what the hell I’m going to make for lunch today.”

She rummaged around the pots and pans until they were as disorderly as they had been before Theresa had tidied them. Then she took out a pan and put all the vegetables she could find in it. She added a piece of fatty salt pork and covered it all with clean water from a large earthenware jar. Then she put it on the heat and added a cow’s tongue.

“Nice and fresh—a customer brought it for me yesterday,” she boasted.

“If you keep fattening me up like this, I’ll end up having to steal your clothes,” Theresa warned her with a smile.

“With how little you eat, girl, it’s a surprise that anyone can see your tits.”

The woman stirred the pot while Theresa went back to tidying the kitchen.

“Anyhow, remember that in my condition I have to look after myself,” the woman added, stroking her stomach.

Theresa smiled. Yet she wondered whether Helga would continue to prostitute herself when her belly was like a full moon.

“How does a woman get pregnant?” she suddenly asked.

“What kind of a stupid question is that?”

“No, you know… what I meant was… well… if doing it the first time.”

Helga looked at her in surprise and then burst out laughing. “It depends how well you got f*cked, you little rascal,” and she gave her a loud kiss on the cheek.

Theresa tried to conceal her embarrassment by scrubbing hard at the rust in the kitchen. As she did so, she prayed to God that it wouldn’t happen to her. Fortunately Helga admitted that she was joking and that becoming pregnant depended on several factors aside from the man’s aim. But her explanations did little to put Theresa’s mind at rest. She kept scrubbing so that the exertion would hide the embarrassed redness in her cheeks.

They spoke at length about Hoos. When Helga asked whether she truly loved him, Theresa rebuked her for doubting her feelings. However, without batting an eye the woman kept pressing her about the boy’s family, the wealth he had, and his qualities as a lover. At this point Theresa stopped answering, though a smile betrayed her thoughts.

“I bet you’re pregnant,” Helga jested, and she laughed again before Theresa could throw a lettuce at her head.

On her way to the monastery, Theresa reflected on Helga’s pregnancy. For a moment she imagined herself round as a barrel, bearing a defenseless child in her belly without any means to raise it. She ran her hands over her flat stomach and a shiver ran down her spine. At that moment she promised herself that, as much as she desired him, she would not lie with Hoos again until they were married.

When she reached the abbey, the cellarer allowed her to pass without a fuss, having learned his lesson after it was made apparent that he had accepted chops as a bribe. Theresa was also wearing the robe Alcuin had given her so that, with the hood up, she looked no different from the novices milling around outside the buildings. The monk in charge of the infirmary was surprised to see her, but after confirming that she had Alcuin’s permission, he agreed to tell her what they knew about Hoos’s whereabouts.

“I will tell you again: The only explanation is that he left of his own accord.”

“So why didn’t he tell me?” she said, feigning indignation.

“How should I know! Do you think we hide cripples around here?”