Authors: Antonio Garrido
“You have sworn on the Holy Bible, so answer truthfully or so God help you. Do you recognize this man?” Lothar asked, pointing at Alcuin.
The woman looked up fearfully, then nodded yes.
“Is it true that he was at the mill a week ago?”
“Yes, Your Excellency, that’s right.” She started crying inconsolably.
“Do you remember the matter that brought him there?”
The woman wiped her tears away. “Not clearly. My husband asked me to prepare something to eat while they spoke business.”
“What kind of business?”
“I don’t remember. About buying some grain, I suppose. I beg you, Your Excellency, my husband is a good man. He has always treated me well—anyone can tell you. He has never beaten me. We have been punished enough with the death of our daughter. Please release us.”
“For pity’s sake, just answer the questions. Tell the truth, and perhaps the Almighty will have mercy on you.”
The woman nodded, trembling. She swallowed and continued. “The monk asked my husband for a batch of wheat, but my husband told him that he only traded in rye. I heard this because, when they started talking money, I paid more attention.”
“So Alcuin proposed a deal to Kohl.”
“Yes, Your Excellency. He said that he needed to buy a large amount of wheat, that it was needed in the abbey. But I swear, Lord Bishop, that my husband would never have done anything unlawful.”
“Very well. Now leave.”
The woman kissed the bishop’s ring and curtsied to Charlemagne. Then she stole a glance at Alcuin before following the same servants that had brought her there. When the woman had left the church, Lothar turned to Charlemagne. “Now it transpires that your monk trades in wheat. Were you aware of this activity?”
The king gave Alcuin a stern look. “Your Majesty,” Alcuin stepped in. “I know you will think it strange, but I was merely trying to discover the source of the sickness.”
“And make a tidy profit along the way,” Lothar interrupted.
“In heaven’s name! Of course not. I needed to earn Kohl’s trust in order to obtain the wheat.”
“Oh! To reach the wheat you say! So what have you concluded, Alcuin? Is Kohl guilty or innocent? Are you pursuing him or defending him? Did you lie to him at the mill, or are you lying to us now?” He turned toward Charlemagne. “This is the man you place your trust in? He who makes falsity his way of life?”
Alcuin clenched his teeth. “
Conscientia mille testes
. In God’s eyes, my conscience is worth a thousand testimonies. The fact that you do not believe me does not concern me.”
“Well, it should concern you, for neither your eloquence nor your contempt will free you from the dishonor with which you conduct yourself. Tell me, Alcuin, do you recognize this document?” He showed him an ink-stained
folia
, visibly crumpled.
“Let me see,” he said, examining it. “May I ask where the devil you found this?”
“In your cell, naturally,” he said, snatching it back from him. “Did you write it?”
“Who gave you permission to enter my cell?”
“In my congregation, I do not need it. Answer! Are you the author of this letter?”
Alcuin nodded begrudgingly.
“And do you remember its contents?” Lothar persisted.
“No, not really.”
“Then pay attention,” he said, and repeated the request more politely to Charlemagne before reading: “
With God’s help. Third day of the calends of January, and the fourteenth since our arrival at the abbey
,” he read. “
All the evidence points toward the mill. Last night Theresa discovered several capsules among the cereal, which Kohl kept in his storehouses. Without doubt the miller is guilty. I fear that the pestilence will spread through Fulda, however, the time has not yet come to put a stop to it.”
Lothar stuffed the parchment into his clothing with a grimace of satisfaction. “Certainly these do not seem like the devotions of a Benedictine. What does Your Majesty think?” he asked the king. “Do they not reveal clear intent to cover up a crime?”
“It would seem so,” Charlemagne lamented. “Do you have anything to say in your defense, Alcuin?”
The monk hesitated before responding. He argued that he tended to write down his thoughts in order to reflect on them later, adding that nobody had the right to rummage through his belongings, and that he had never done anything that might harm a Christian. However, he did not elaborate on the text.
“And if you suspected Kohl, what compels you now to defend him?” Charlemagne asked.
“It is something I determined later. Actually, I suspect it was his red-haired assistant who—”
“You mean Rothaart, the
late
Rothaart?” Lothar interjected. “What a coincidence! Does it not seem odd to you that the person responsible for poisoning the entire town should also be poisoned to death?”
“Perhaps it was not such a coincidence,” Alcuin retorted, directing a defiant look at Lothar.
Still crouching behind the choir, Theresa was torn between trusting Alcuin and believing Lothar. Hoos had warned her against the monk and now Lothar was also accusing him of misdeeds with complete conviction. Even the king himself was starting to doubt his own adviser. She wanted to believe him innocent, but then, why would he have locked her in that room?
“Do you know this woman Theresa?” she heard Lothar ask him.
“Why do you ask?” Alcuin responded. “You know her as well as I.”
“Yes, but is it not true that you have spent many hours working with her?”
“I still fail to understand what you mean.”
“If you do not understand, then imagine what we must think about a young, attractive girl, as I seem to remember, helping a monk at all hours of the night in matters that fall beyond a woman’s abilities. If you please, Alcuin, be honest. Aside from conducting business, do you also pursue daughters of Eve?”
“Hold your tongue. I will not permit you to—”
“And now you order me to be quiet,” he said, laughing affectedly. “Confess, for the love of God. And isn’t it also true that you made her swear an oath? Did you or did you not order her to keep your secret? Was this how you attempted to keep your abominable plans secret? By abusing your position, using your superior knowledge, and taking advantage of the shortfalls inherent to the female intellect?”
Alcuin was now visibly grinding his teeth as he stood face-to-face with Lothar. “But what plans do you speak of? God knows that what I say is true.”
“And I suppose God will also be aware of your attempted poisoning, will He not?”
“For goodness’ sake, don’t be ridiculous.”
“Ha! And you think I am the ludicrous one! Very well. Let us see what our King Charlemagne thinks about all of this. Ludwig! Step forward.”
The coadjutor obeyed wearily, looking at Alcuin with scorn.
“Beloved Ludwig, would you be so kind as to tell us what you saw last week, during the ceremony for the execution of The Swine?” Lothar requested.
The coadjutor bowed as he went before Charlemagne. Then he straightened up as if he had swallowed a stick and began speaking in a proud tone, as though his testimony alone could solve the mystery.
“There was a great sense of expectation that day,” he began. “All the monks were transfixed by the gallows. Unfortunately, I do not see well at a distance, so I amused myself by sampling the food and observing the guests. However, the dignitaries were seated close enough to me, I could see them clearly. That was when I caught him,” he said pointing at Alcuin. “I was surprised to see him raising a cup, for the Briton balks at drink. Yet my incredulity doubled when I noticed that, rather than his own, he was holding Lothar’s cup. That was when I saw him fiddle with his ring, opening it, and emptying some powder into Lothar’s cup. Lothar drank from it before I could warn him, and moments later collapsed. Fortunately we were able to tend to him before the poison could take full effect.”
“Is this true?” Charlemagne asked Alcuin.
“Of course not,” he answered categorically.
But at that moment Lothar grasped Alcuin’s hand and pulled on the ring around his little finger. Alcuin resisted, but as they struggled, the lid came open and a cloud of white powder was strewn over Charlemagne’s cloak.
“And what is this?” said the sovereign, standing up.
Alcuin stammered and retreated. This was not how he had envisioned events unfolding.
Before he could answer, Lothar responded for him. “This is what is hidden in a man with a dark soul. A man who brandishes the Word of God while his tongue spits the poison of evil. Abbadon, Asmodeus, Belial, or Leviathan: Any of them would be proud to have him as a friend. Alcuin of York—a man capable of lying to make a profit, capable of keeping quiet while people die in order to protect himself, and capable of killing—he brushed the powder from Charlemagne to prevent his true nature from being unmasked. But I will show you his true face, the face of the beast. Because he was the first to discover what Kohl was doing. Yet rather than stop him, he blackmailed him for his own gain. He lied to him to earn his trust, and he lies now, defending him in order to defend himself. It was his assistant Theresa who was unable to bear her burden of guilt. Refusing to participate in the murder that Alcuin was eager to repeat, she came to me in confession.” He turned challengingly to Alcuin. “And now you can hide behind whatever falsities you can conjure, for nobody born under God’s mantle will dare heed your barking.”
Alcuin silently scanned the faces that had already condemned him. Finally, he took the Bible and placed his right hand on it.
“I swear before God Almighty—for the salvation of my soul—that I am innocent of the charges made against me. And if you will grant me time—”
“Time to continue killing?” Lothar interrupted.
“I have sworn on the Bible. Why don’t you also swear?” challenged Alcuin.
“Your oath is worth as much as the word of that woman who helped you. No, not even that much. Catullus said that the oaths of women are written in the wind and on the surface of waves, but yours evaporate while they are still in your thoughts.”
“Cease spouting old wives’ tales and swear!” Alcuin demanded. “Or do you fear that Charlemagne will strip you of your position?”
“How readily you forget our laws!” he said, smiling paternally. “We bishops are not of the same class of people, who like common subjects, must consign themselves to vassalage. Nor must we make oaths of any kind. You know that the evangelical and canonical code forbids it. You know that the rank and position of bishop is one bestowed upon us by God. Our positions cannot be taken away by anyone’s whim, not even the king’s. Everything associated with the Church is consecrated to God. But even if I could swear an oath… how dare you demand that I do so? For if you believed that I am telling the truth, then what would be the point in swearing? And if you believed that my word is false, then by demanding I take an oath, you would be leading me into error, and in doing so, encouraging the perpetration of sin.”
Alcuin tried to contradict him, but to his despair, the papal envoy appeared to agree with Lothar’s argument.
“Well, then. It seems obvious that the mill owner is guilty,” the monarch concluded. “A batch of wheat has been found in his possession containing the seed that apparently produces the poison, and that is something irrefutable, so I see no reason, Alcuin, why you continue to protect him. Unless, of course, you are involved, as Lothar suggests.”
Alcuin gave him a grim look. “Since when has an innocent man been obliged to defend himself? Where are the twelve men required for the accusation to be valid? Lothar’s words have been nothing more than quibbles, nonsense, and buffoonery. If you will grant me a few hours, I will prove—”
At that moment, the crash of a falling candelabra made everyone turn in surprise.
Theresa crouched behind the balustrade. In her eagerness to hear what was being said, she had leaned against the candles, and her weight had sent the entire structure plummeting to the ground.
One of the clerics caught a glimpse of her and on his command, two acolytes ran toward the choir. When they found that it was
a woman, they grabbed her and shoved her in the direction of Lothar, who instructed her to kneel and beg for forgiveness.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the bear hunter!” said the king in surprise. “May I ask why you were hiding?”
Theresa kissed the royal ring before begging for mercy. Stammering, she explained that she was looking for a missing friend whom she had mistakenly thought had died and was now fleeing from her for some reason. She emphasized that she had not heard what they were discussing, and that all she wanted was to know why her friend Helga was running away from her.
When the young woman finished babbling, Charlemagne looked her up and down. For a moment he thought she had lost her senses, though her explanation was so hasty and strange that he decided perhaps she was no liar.
“And you thought you might find your friend up there in the choir?”
Theresa reddened.
“She is Alcuin’s assistant, my Lord,” Lothar interjected. “Perhaps you would like to interrogate her.”
“I don’t think so. I would rather take a break now. Maybe in prayer I will find an answer.”
“But, Your Majesty. You cannot… Alcuin needs to be punished immediately,” he insisted.
“After some prayers,” said the monarch. “Meanwhile, keep him under guard in his cell.” He signaled to have Alcuin escorted away and then left through a side door, cutting Lothar short.
At once the bishop forgot about Theresa and addressed the sentry who was taking Alcuin to his cell, telling him to make sure he did not leave it under any circumstance.
“If he needs to relieve himself, he can do so out of the window,” he blurted out.
Two guards escorted Alcuin back to his cell, flanking him on either side. Theresa followed a few steps behind. As they walked,
the young woman tried to apologize, but at each attempt the monk only quickened his pace.
“I did not meant to incriminate you,” she finally managed to say.
“Well, according to Lothar, it seems a little too late for that.” He kept walking without looking back at her. For the entire trip back to his cell, Theresa kept apologizing for what she had done, all the while asking herself why she was doing so. For after all, the monk had used her for his own purposes. He had locked her up, and if it had been left up to him, nobody would know yet about the cause of the Plague. There was also the matter of the
folia
, in which he had accused Kohl as the culprit, something he had never mentioned to Theresa before.