The Scribe(93)
Theresa had never imagined that the king’s presence could cause such a stir. That night she had to vacate the stables, since the clergy used it to accommodate the royal horses and servants. She moved to the room that Favila had in the palace pantries. However, not long after she tried to retire for the second time that night, the king’s cooks took over the kitchens, filling them with geese, pheasants, and ducks that honked and quacked like demons for the rest of the night.
The next morning, the chapter was a hive of activity. Clerics ran to and fro, laden with plants with which to adorn the cathedral for the holy services. The busy kitchen staff prepared dishes of roasted meats, vegetables, and delicate pastries. The maidservants cleaned every nook and cranny. And Lothar’s acolytes rushed to move the bishop’s belongings to an adjoining chamber—for his room would be occupied by Charlemagne.
When Favila ordered Theresa to join the other servants in the refectory, Theresa felt there was little point in trying to explain that she only received orders from Alcuin. She tried anyway, but her argument fell on deaf ears. With a shove Favila ushered her into the refectory to help the others.
When Theresa walked into the dining hall she found it decked out with religious tapestries in sumptuous reds and blues. The central table had been replaced by three long boards laid on U-shaped trestles, opposite the entrance. Theresa arranged a row of green apples on the colorful linen tablecloths, already adorned with centerpieces of cyclamens, garlands, and violets—the winter flowers that were cultivated in the gardens. Several rows of stools lined each side of the tables, except for the central area, cleared to accommodate the throne and other armchairs that the king and his favorites would use.
The cooks had prepared a feast for a legion of hungry men, with no shortage of capon and duck still with their plumage, scrambled pheasant eggs, grilled ox, lamb shoulders, pork ribs and fillets, kidney stews, offal, accompaniments of cabbage, turnip, and radish dressed in garlic and pepper, boiled artichokes, an array of sausages and cold meats, bean salads, roast rabbit, pickled quails, strudels, and a myriad of desserts made with honey and rye flour.
On the way back to the kitchen, Theresa heard the head cook asking Favila if she had any garum. Seemingly, the monarch loved the condiment, but the expedition had left their stocks behind in Aquis-Granum. Favila explained hesitantly that she had started the process some time ago, but then gave up when she tasted it. Bringing it out, the head cook, Theresa, and Favila all took a sample and all three immediately spit it out.
“I know how to fix it,” Theresa said, remembering what Leonora had taught her about how it could be doctored up with spices. “With your permission, of course.”
Before the man could object, Theresa ran to the pantry and returned laden with aromatic herbs from the garden along with some salt. After following the steps just as Leonora had shown her, she poured the liquid into a large spoon, which she then handed to the cook.
“How is it now?”
The man tried it and looked at her in amazement.
“Well, blow me down! Charlemagne will be pleased! Let’s see, you two,” he snapped, addressing a couple of servants. “Leave those dressings and come and help this girl prepare more garum. I must say, if your stews are as good as your condiments, I’m sure you will have no trouble finding a wealthy husband.”
Theresa blushed and thought of Hoos Larsson. She hoped that he would be her husband. Even though she wasn’t sure if he had money, her heart fluttered when she thought about how handsome he was.
When the cook told Favila that Charlemagne wanted to congratulate the person who had made the condiment, Favila started trembling, insisting it was Theresa who should get the credit. She smoothed Theresa’s hair, pinched her cheeks until they lit up like a newborn’s, and gave her a clean apron to wear. Then she ushered her off, calling her a cheeky rascal. However, Theresa took her by the hand and forced her to go to the refectory with her.
As the women approached, they were surprised by the sheer number of waiters, maids, and servants milling about near the entrance. The cook showing them the way pushed past some glaring onlookers, clearing a path through the crowd to the door of the dining hall. He told them to wait until the lector had recited the psalms.
While the cleric read, Theresa observed Charlemagne standing in the center of the hall. The monarch’s colossal stature made the young woman next to him seem like a dwarf. Charlemagne was dressed in a short cloak as substantial as a napkin on his great body, a woolen overcoat, baggy trousers, and leather boots. His face, shaven in the Frankish way, sported a large unruly moustache that contrasted with the rest of his hair, neatly gathered into a long ponytail. Behind him, Alcuin and Lothar waited patiently at the front of his retinue, which included a cohort of elegantly attired prelates.
When the lector finished, they all sat and started to breakfast, which was when the cook asked Theresa to follow him. They crossed the room and he introduced her to the king, whom Theresa acknowledged with a ridiculous curtsy. Charlemagne regarded her as though he did not understand what was happening.
“The garum girl,” the cooked informed him.
Charlemagne’s eyes widened, surprised by her youth. Then he congratulated her and continued to eat as if nothing had happened. Before she could even think of something to say, Theresa felt the cook grasp her arm and pull her toward the exit.
She was about to return to the kitchens when Favila suggested she wait and help her clear the tables. The two women stood together at one end of the room, observing the dignitaries devouring their feast as if it were their last meal. While the guests breakfasted, dozens of clerics, vassals, landowners, and artisans paraded through the refectory to pay tribute to the monarch.