The Scribe(96)
While she waited, she pondered Alcuin’s behavior. Hoos had warned her about him. Locking her in a room and refusing to inform Lothar about the cause of the sickness only served to give credence to his suspicion. She didn’t know what to think.
The monk had helped her. And, though reluctantly, he had also arranged for Helga the Black to work in the kitchens. Even though it didn’t do her a lot of good. The last time she had seen Helga, she already showed symptoms of the sickness, and at that moment Theresa had no idea where she was.
Most importantly, why had Alcuin locked her up?
Suddenly the bells started ringing, announcing the approaching execution. Through the hole in the window Theresa watched as dozens of people congregated around the hole where, the week before, they had attempted to bury The Swine alive. Most of the crowd were elderly folks arriving laden with food to secure the best places, but there were also many unemployed youth and the usual beggars who inhabited the square and its surrounding area. A few paces from the wall, almost directly under her, were the chairs and stools where the dignitaries would undoubtedly sit. These, she imagined, would include the Roman delegation, Charlemagne, Bishop Lothar, and Alcuin himself. It was still early. She guessed that there were still three hours to go before the execution.
She stepped down from the window and searched the furniture. In one of the chests she discovered a store of liturgical textiles: embroidered altar cloths, curtains for the entrance to the presbytery, rugs, capes, tunics, Easter and Pentecost habits, and endless other garments—enough to dress the entire cathedral congregation.
She tidied the clothing and then continued to wait for Alcuin’s return, but after some time, she went back to the chests and tried on a purple habit with a gold edging. She enjoyed its smell of incense but soon removed it because it was very heavy. She left the cassock on the chest and stretched herself out on the bench.
She thought about her father and what he might be doing. Perhaps she should return to Würzburg. Then she closed her eyes and let her mind wander. She didn’t notice she had fallen asleep until the beating of drums announced that the spectacle was about to begin.
She ran to the window. Among the mob that filled the square she could make out The Swine, awaiting his punishment at the edge of the pit. Directly below her, a mere stone’s throw away, Charlemagne and his retinue had taken their seats. She could see Alcuin and Lothar, but not Kohl.
She was about to come away from the window when she saw Alcuin stand and take a few paces toward a woman whose face Theresa couldn’t see because her head was stooped down. He spoke to her for a moment and then returned. When the woman lifted her head, Theresa recognized her. It was Helga the Black—walking as if fully recovered!
Theresa had not yet recovered from her shock when she heard voices. She ran to the railings and saw that two clerics were cleaning the transept. As she stepped back she tripped over the bench and the clatter rang out through the church. She peered out again and saw that the novices were coming to discover what had happened.
She was gripped by panic thinking she might be in more trouble if discovered. Acting quickly, she threw on the purple cassock she had tried on earlier, and she lay on the floor face down, with the hood up over her head. When the clerics peered into the room through the railings, all they could see was what looked like a prostrate priest. Alarmed, they called out to wake him, but Theresa didn’t move. Then they did as she hoped they would: Seeing that she did not respond, one of the clerics fetched the key and put it into the lock. Theresa waited until the cleric had entered and was bent down over her. Then she jumped up, pushed the first cleric out of the way and slipped past the second one so quickly that the two men thought they had seen the Devil.
She sprinted to the exit with ease, for aside from those two clerics, everyone was in the square. Once she joined the crowd, she elbowed her way through, aided by her striking attire. However, as she approached the gallows, a soldier ordered her to halt. It dawned on the young woman that if they caught her dressed as a priest, they would accuse her of heresy. Petrified, and without a second thought she took off the habit and let it fall onto the ground, causing several women to swoop down on to the garment and begin to fight over it like wild animals. Theresa took advantage of the confusion to hide behind a peasant who was twice her size. By the time the soldier had managed to separate the women, Theresa had vanished. It wasn’t long before she reached the dignitaries’ podium, but to her surprise, it was empty.
“They suddenly stood and left in a hurry,” said a sausage vendor.
Theresa bought half a sausage from him and the peddler told her all that he knew, stating that the bishop and a skinny monk had started an argument that made the king lose his patience.
“The monarch was incensed and told them to resolve their differences somewhere else. Then he left the podium and they all followed him like sheep.”
“And where did they go?”
“To the cathedral, I think.” He suddenly grew animated. “Damn them! If they don’t return, who will I sell all these expensive bloody sausages to?” He turned away and continued to cry his wares.
Theresa looked toward the cathedral and saw Helga the Black. This time, the recognition was mutual. Theresa tried to signal to her, but Helga hid herself, lowering her head as she made for an entrance to the episcopal palace. Theresa ran after her, but when she arrived at the door Helga entered through, she discovered it bolted.