Flavio fell silent. Then suddenly he positioned himself behind Wilfred’s carriage and threatened to push it into the void.
“You can go ahead as far as I’m concerned,” Alcuin said without turning a hair. “It’s no less than he deserves.”
The count’s eyes, already a picture of terror, opened even wider as he heard Alcuin’s words.
The monk continued. “Because it was Wilfred who eliminated Genseric,” he declared. “When he discovered that his coadjutor had betrayed him, that Genseric had been responsible for Gorgias’s disappearance in order to take possession of the parchment, he had no qualms about murdering him. And later he did the same with Korne,” Alcuin added. Then he looked Wilfred in the eye and discreetly pointed to the handrail on the chair.
Wilfred understood. Aware that Flavio Diacono was holding the rail, he triggered the spring and there was a metallic click. The Roman nuncio felt a prick in his palm, but paid no attention to it.
“Have you forgotten to whom you are speaking? I am an emissary of the pope,” Flavio stressed again.
“And you are a follower of Irene of Byzantium, the traitorous empress who blinded her own son and hates the Papacy. The woman who corrupted you and whom you now serve. You intended to deliver the document to prevent Charlemagne’s coronation. And now let go of Wilfred, and tell us where you have hidden the document that you stole from the scriptorium.”
Flavio reeled. The venom was already taking effect. He put his hand in his robe and pulled out a folded parchment.
“Is this what you’re looking for? A false document? Tell me, Alcuin, who is most…?” He shook his head as if something was echoing around it. “Who is most at fault? He who, like me, fights to ensure that the truth prevails, or he who, like you, uses covetous lies to achieve his ends.”
“The only truth is God’s truth. It is He who wants the Papacy to live on.”
“The Byzantine or the Roman?” Flavio blinked nervously, as though trying to see clearly.
Alcuin made as if to approach him, but Flavio warned him against it. “One step closer and I’ll tear the parchment to pieces.”
The monk stopped immediately, knowing that all he had to do to get his hands on the document was wait until the venom took full effect. However, Wilfred did not wait. When he saw that the papal nuncio was staggering, he released his hounds. The dogs, loyal executors of his commands, threw themselves at the Roman’s throat.
One dog latched onto Flavio’s arm, while another tore at his robe. In the struggle, he dropped the parchment and one of the animals ravaged it until it was destroyed. Flavio, even under attack, attempted to retrieve it, but another hound leaped at his face, making him lose his footing. The man teetered on the edge of the precipice. For a second, he looked at Alcuin in disbelief, then both dog and man tilted backward into the void.
When Alcuin looked over the edge, he saw Flavio Diacono’s body together with Hoos Larsson’s at the bottom of the precipice.
After picking up the remains of the parchment, Alcuin realized with a heavy heart that it could never be reconstructed. He crossed himself slowly and turned to Drogo. Theresa thought she could even see the sparkle from a tear in Alcuin’s eye.
31
Gorgias’s funeral was held in the main church in the presence of Drogo, the rest of the papal delegation, and a choir of boys. To Theresa, the antiphons they intoned sounded like the antechamber to heaven itself. Her stepmother, Rutgarda, accompanied by her sister, Lotharia, and her husband and their children, could not refrain from sobbing inconsolably.
Standing farther back, Izam offered Theresa a seat, but she preferred to stand. Although Theresa felt that this Saturday in March was the saddest of her life, the young woman listened to the homily feeling strong and proud of her father.
Rutgarda, on the other hand, cried until she ran out of tears. When the service was over, they carried the coffin in procession to the cemetery. At the express desire of Alcuin, Gorgias’s remains were buried alongside the region’s most distinguished deceased, those who through their sanctity or courage had defended Würzburg and its Christian values.
On the following Sunday morning, Theresa went to see Alcuin at his request. She didn’t feel like seeing him, but Izam insisted that she go. When she arrived at the scriptorium for their meeting, she found Izam also waiting for her. She greeted both of them warmly and sat in the chair they had ready for her. Alcuin offered her some hot buns, but Theresa declined. Then there was a moment’s silence, broken when Alcuin cleared his throat. “Are you sure you don’t want one?” he asked again, but she shook her head no. He moved the buns out of the way and spread the remains of the chewed parchment over the table. “So much work, and for nothing,” he grumbled.
Theresa could only think about her dead father.
“How are you feeling?” Izam asked her.
In a thin voice Theresa said she was fine. It was obvious that she was lying, for her eyes were wet. Alcuin bit his lip, breathed deeply, and took the young woman’s hand in his. But she pulled it away, so Izam took her hand in his own. Alcuin finished gathering up the remains of the parchment and then set them aside as if they were any old pile of scrap.
“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 ass
umed 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.”
Theresa recalled that day at the apothecary when he had offered her work.
“Because of who your father was,” the monk acknowledged. “Then Hoos got better after having recovered his dagger with the seal, and he disappeared without a trace.” Alcuin sat opposite Theresa and took one last mouthful. “Hoos went back to Würzburg, where he met Genseric, and together they hatched a plan to kidnap your father to force him to finish the parchment. Fortunately, Gorgias managed to escape. Following Genseric’s death, Hoos must not have known what to do. He returned to Fulda to speak with Flavio Diacono, who no doubt suggested that he use you as a hostage to find your father, or if it came to it, replace him as a scribe. Wilfred had suspected Genseric for some time. Gorgias had vanished, but curiously his belongings didn’t disappear until two days later. By then, Wilfred had already ordered Theodor to watch the scriptorium, and it was the giant who discovered that the thief was Genseric.”
“But why didn’t Theodor just follow him? Or force him to disclose my father’s whereabouts?”
“Who says he didn’t? No doubt he attempted to, but a child could put that big oaf off the scent. I suppose that, in his rage, Wilfred poisoned Genseric when he next saw him. Then he must have had Theodor follow him to discover the hiding place. He returned to the fortress to inform Wilfred, who immediately ordered him back to the crypt to free Gorgias. But by then the coadjutor was dead and Gorgias had disappeared.”
“So, it was Theodor who dragged Genseric’s body off and stuck the stylus in him.”
“Precisely. Wilfred ordered him to take Gorgias’s stylus and fake the murder so there would be a reason to find him quickly. From that point forward, you know the rest of the story: the voyage on the river, your falsified resurrection, and the disappearance of the twins.”
“Now that, I still don’t understand.”
“It’s not difficult to deduce. With Genseric dead, Flavio needed another agent. So he moved onto Korne, a man of loose morals, which his love affair with the wet nurse confirms. No doubt Hoos informed Flavio of Korne’s weaknesses, so by offering him titles, and no doubt Gorgias’s head, too, he persuaded the parchment-maker to abduct Wilfred’s daughters.”
“Intending to blackmail him to retrieve the parchment?” Theresa asked, still trying to fit the pieces together.
“I would imagine so. The document written by your father he had given up for lost. However, he knew that at that time you were working on transcribing another one. Flavio decided that by extorting Wilfred he could obtain the document that you were working on. At any rate, it did him little good, because Wilfred then poisoned Korne with the mechanism in his chair.”
“But that doesn’t make sense. What would Wilfred have to gain from killing Korne?”
“The knowledge of where he was keeping his daughters, I suppose. He was sure that he could get that information from him in exchange for giving him the antidote to the venom. However, it didn’t work out as planned. Korne, who did not know where the girls were, ran off in fear and soon died during the singing in the service.”
“So why did Flavio and Hoos leave the little girls at the mine?”
“I can’t answer that. Perhaps they were alarmed by Korne’s strange death. Or maybe they thought someone might discover them there. I don’t know. Bear in mind it’s not easy to watch over two girls. How could they feed, hide, and guard them in secret? To do this, they were counting on the parchment-maker, who was now dead. In fact, I believe they drugged them to make it easier.”
“And they took them to the mine—not to abandon them, but so they could be found?”
“That must have been their intention. Remember that the next day they organized a search, from which they emerged as heroes instead of outlaws.”
“And incriminating my father while they were at it.”
Alcuin nodded and gestured for Theresa to wait. He went to the door and asked for more food.
“I don’t know why, but all this talking is making me hungry,” he said upon returning. “Where were we? Ah, yes! I remember now. They tried to implicate your father from the beginning. I discovered, you should know, that Hoos did not just work for Flavio. He worked for himself and his own benefit first and foremost. Do you recall those youngsters who were stabbed to death? I had the opportunity to speak to their families, and they told me that when they enshrouded them, they found that they had black hands and feet. Does that remind you of anything?”
“The grain in Fulda?” she suggested incredulously.
“That’s right. The poisoned grain. Although Lothar never admitted to it, after I tried to account for all the poisoned grain, I realized there was still a batch hidden somewhere. Do you recall that when Hoos disappeared from Fulda, he was still wounded—and he was traveling on horseback, wasn’t he?”
Theresa lowered her head and admitted she had found him the horse.
“Helga the Black told me,” Alcuin continued, “but according to Wilfred, Hoos arrived in Würzburg in a wagon. So it would appear that someone else also helped him escape Fulda: Rothaart the redhead, maybe, or Lothar.”
“Why do you assume that?”
Alcuin rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a handful of grain. “Because in the stables where they amputated your father’s arm, I found the missing batch of contaminated wheat.”
He explained that it wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to think that Hoos would attempt to do business with it, taking advantag
e of the famine in Würzburg. “The youngsters who died were hired by Hoos for various tasks,” he informed Theresa. “He must have paid them in wheat, which he did not eat himself having been warned by Lothar not to. Perhaps he didn’t know that the poison would take effect so quickly, but suddenly he found himself with two very sick young lads threatening to expose him, so on the spur of the moment he decided to murder them.”
“And again incriminate my father.”
“Indeed. He had to find him, and if he was held responsible for several deaths in Würzburg they would help to find him. I don’t know whether Hoos found out that your father was hiding at the mine. Perhaps he suspected it, or maybe it was fate. The fact is that his presence no longer suited anyone. Flavio and Hoos wanted him dead, for if Gorgias survived, he could transcribe another parchment.”
“And you, too, in order to cover up his discovery.”
“What do you mean?” asked the monk, surprised.
“I bet you wanted him dead, too, since my father had uncovered the hypocrisy of the document.”
Alcuin frowned. At that moment the servant returned with his requested food, but Alcuin shooed him away with an irritable gesture.
“I have told you that I was fond of your father. But let’s not talk about that. Whatever I could have done for him, or didn’t do for him, I could not have prevented his death.”
“But he didn’t have to die like a dog.”
Alcuin didn’t blink. He picked up a Bible and found the Book of Job. He began to read it out loud as if to justify his behavior. Then he added, “God demands sacrifice from us. He sends us afflictions that perhaps we do not understand. Your father offered his life, and you should be grateful to him for it.”
Theresa looked him in the eyes with steely determination. “If there is something I should thank him for, it is that he lived long enough to show me that you two are as different as night and day.”
She left the room, leaving Alcuin standing there.
The Scribe Page 53