Authors: Antonio Garrido
In the evening some dishes of fish were served in the refectory that seemed to offend Flavio Diacono. Wilfred apologized for the food, but there were not enough provisions for elaborate feasts or celebrations, as even his own reserves were almost depleted.
“It is a shame some of the supplies were lost under the ice,” Wilfred lamented. “The townspeople were desperate for that food.”
“Are the provisions from the ship not sufficient?” Flavio asked.
“Ha! A half-dead ox, six pecks of wheat, and three sacks of oatmeal. You call those provisions? They won’t even reach their plates.”
“There are still two ships loaded with provisions downriver. If necessary we could repair our boat and sail down to them,” Izam suggested.
“And how have you fed yourselves until now?” Alcuin inquired. “I mean… apparently you have suffered from a severe famine.”
Wilfred confessed that they held out until the last of their reserves, but when the dead started to pile up, they had to resort to using the royal granaries. “The victuals were not arriving, and people were dying,” he explained. “As you know, the royal grain is kept to feed troops in the event of combat, but the situation became unsustainable, so I proceeded with rationing.”
“At any rate, it does not look like you are destitute,” Flavio pointed out. “Even the hard of hearing would be deafened by the mooing of your cows and the clucking of your hens,” he said, pointing toward the area of the courtyard where the animal pens were.
Wilfred reversed his carriage, pulling away from the table. “Is this how a guest thanks me for my generosity? Since when do Romans concern themselves with the troubles of mere country folks?” the offended count protested. “Shut away in your cathedrals as you are, you know nothing of the hardships of your congregation. You have orchards and vegetable gardens, livestock and poultry, lands that you lease out, serfs who in exchange for food clear the fields and repair the walls. You receive tithes from everyone around you and collect taxes for the use of your roads, but you are exempt from paying any yourselves. And still you come here and judge me? Of course I have food. I am no fool. I’m a cleric, but I also govern. What will happen when the townspeople can bear it no longer? When they grow desperate and hunger overcomes them? They will arm themselves with whatever they can find and raid our stores.”
Alcuin hastened to intervene.
“Please, accept our apologies. The severity of the situation has taken us by surprise, but I assure you we are as grateful for your hospitality as we are for your generosity. Tell me, do you truly believe the supplies brought on the ship are insufficient?”
Flavio was annoyed at what he considered to be Alcuin’s interference. Yet, he had to admit that his intervention had come at the right moment.
“Do the numbers yourself,” Wilfred grumbled. “Not counting priests and monks, about three hundred families live in Würzburg. But at this rate, by next month perhaps, there will be none.”
“And the market gardens?” asked Alcuin. “You must have garlic, shallots, leeks, cabbages, radishes, turnips…”
“The ice killed off every last thistle. Have you not seen how desperate the townsfolk are?” he responded, pointing at the mob of people in the lower part of the city. “They can’t tell the difference between an apple and an onion anymore.”
“And your reserves?”
“In the granary we still have around a hundred pecks of wheat, plus another thirty of spelt, but that grain is pure poison and we only use it to feed to what animals remain. Even so some desperate souls were bold enough to break into the storehouses and steal a couple of sacks. The next day we found the thieves outside Zeno’s house with their guts spilling out their mouths. Unfortunately, death took them before we could hang them.”
Alcuin shook his head. If Wilfred’s estimations were accurate, they were faced with a sizable problem.
“And the relics?” the count asked Alcuin hopefully, “will they not help us to find food?”
“Undoubtedly, Wilfred. Undoubtedly.”
MARCH
26
Since his arrival in Würzburg, Hoos Larsson hadn’t had a moment’s rest. Wilfred had assigned him to the troop led by Izam, who, foreseeing more attacks, was scouting the surrounding area every day. In the mornings they would inspect the walled perimeter. At twilight scouting parties would set off to circle the town from east to west before climbing to the top of the outcrop on which the fortress perched. Men, women, and children had to keep watch over streams and roads, shore up the defenses, and repair the walls.
In the second week, Hoos was charged with leading an expedition to the old mines. A shepherd with little work to do had apparently seen a fire there and Wilfred had decided to comb the area and turn the tunnels into a trap.
In the early morning, twelve men set off equipped with leather jerkins, shields, and bows. Izam sported the chainmail that he had brought on the ship. Hoos had never used it, but Izam insisted on its usefulness.
“I agree that on water they are a liability, for if you fall in you will be dragged to the bottom. But on land it’s like wearing an iron bell.”
Hoos looked at Izam with disdain, then tried to estimate the remaining distance to the mine. He thought to himself that
if bandits appeared, Izam wouldn’t even have time to count his arrow wounds.
“Perhaps we’ll bump into Gorgias,” Izam ventured. “The mine wouldn’t be a bad hideaway.”
“Well, if we do, you heard Wilfred’s orders: ‘If you find him, riddle him with arrows.’ He killed Genseric and also some young boys with a stylus.”
“It seems that the count has been badly affected by the loss of his coadjutor, but Alcuin has other ideas around what may have happened. If we find him, I think we should take him alive.”
Hoos rode on. If it came to it, he thought, he wouldn’t waver.
They reached the mine by midmorning. The scouts had reached it first, reporting that the place seemed deserted, but as a precaution Izam divided his men into two groups. The first headed for the slave huts and the second made for the tunnels. During the search, Hoos discovered some fresh fish bones and eggshells in a shed. The scraps seemed recent, but rather than tell Izam he hid them by dispersing them with his boot. They combed the place without finding anything significant, so after a final look around, Izam and his men joined those exploring the mine.
In the first tunnel the darkness was pitch black. As they progressed, the passages became narrower and narrower, forcing them to bend down as they walked. In one of the tunnels, one of their men stumbled, falling through the ground. There was little his friends could do except listen to his body tumble into the chasm. They deliberated whether to continue on or get out of that rat hole as soon as possible when a deafening rockslide threatened to bury them alive, dust filling their lungs. One of the men ran for the exit and the rest followed, feeling half-suffocated. Collapsing outside with bodies battered and spirits broken, they decided to call off the search and return to the town.
Only when there was complete silence in the tunnel did Gorgias push aside the rickety old corves he had hidden behind, and coughing and spluttering, he gave thanks to the heavens for helping him. With difficulty he came out of his hiding place and lifted away the timber from the rock fall he had provoked. He was glad he had foreseen that situation and prepared adequately.
A few days before, while he had been searching the mine, he discovered a beam that was not properly shored up to the ceiling. At first it worried him, but he soon hatched a plan to make use of it by tinkering with its support, turning it into a trap. He dug under the base of the pile and replaced the earth with small stones. Selecting a long, thin stone, with great care, he managed to position it vertically in the cavity under the base of the beam. Then he tied a string to the stone, covered it up, and retreated to a nearby cavity. From there he checked that, if he pulled the rope, the stone would come away, and the beam would collapse along with the tunnel roof.
Once he had returned to his hut, he reflected on the moments leading up to the soldiers’ arrival. That morning he had been in the huts when he heard the neighing of a horse. Gobbling down his fish, he went outside immediately and found that a group of men were approaching the mine. He quickly picked up Blanca and ran toward the tunnel, where he ducked down and prayed to God they would not enter. However, when he saw the first torch, he fled to the cavity near the trap, moved a corf in the way to conceal him and waited until the men were close enough. Before long, he saw them approaching. If they went any farther they would surely discover him. When one of the men came up to the corf, Gorgias gripped the rope and braced himself. He had to attempt it quickly. He rolled the rope around his arm and pulled with all his might. The stone moved and the pillar toppled to the ground, causing the rockslide.
After the collapse, he had searched the place for any wounded, hoping that he might find the man with the serpent tattoo among the rubble. But no such luck. When he had reached the exit, there was no trace of the men who had been looking for him. He was relieved by his good fortune. But he mourned Blanca, for in order to keep her from clucking, he’d had to wring her neck.
On Hoos’s return to Würzburg, a maidservant informed him that Theresa had gone out in the company of her stepmother, who wanted to pick up some clothes, and the young woman talked of taking a stroll in the fortress gardens. Hoos took off his weapons, washed his face, and went out to find her.
He discovered her sitting on a tree stump in one of the orchards. Coming up behind her, he gently stroked her hair. She turned in surprise, revealing a sad smile on her face. When she told him that she needed to find her father, he promised to help her.
They crossed the cloister under the arcades to protect themselves from the wind. Hoos picked some flowers and made a clumsy adornment for her hair. Theresa smelled of clean, damp grass. As they walked she huddled up to him, and he slid an arm around her waist and whispered that he loved her. Theresa closed her eyes so that she would never forget those words.
They ran to the bedroom that had been allotted to her, hoping that nobody would interrupt them, but they didn’t come across a soul. She went in first and he closed the door behind them.
Hoos kissed her passionately, exploring her throat, her neck, her chin. He held her in his arms as if he wanted to keep her there forever. Theresa felt the heat of his body, his excited breathing, his confident lips discovering another trembling place to kiss—and she liked all of it. Hoos caressed her brazenly, noticing the goose bumps on the girl’s skin, her desire growing with each of his kisses. He felt the firmness of her nipples, throbbing under her
clothes. He slid his lips across her body, feeling her almost shameful softness.
She allowed him to undress her, to envelop her with his tongue, to warm her with his whispering. With each moment she wanted him more, and with each caress she longed for another, more forbidden touch.
She shuddered when his manhood brushed against her, feeling ashamed as she asked him, moaning, to penetrate her. He entered her slowly, pushing his way into her, overcome with lust. She held him tight, wrapping her legs about him, feeling his excitement, his movements, every pore of his skin. She rocked in time with his hips, wanting him inside her, faster and faster, harder and harder. She whispered for more, for it to never end, as her cheeks flushed, making her look like a harlot. Then, gradually, waves of pleasure radiated through her belly, time and time again, until she felt like she would lose her mind.
He loved her, and she loved him back. When Hoos pulled away, she stroked his shoulders, his strong arms, and the strange serpent tattooed on his wrist.
When Theresa woke, she saw that Hoos was already dressed and was smiling at her. She thought to herself that the leather jerkin and dyed woolen trousers made him look like a prince. The young man told her that he had to go to the royal storehouses to help share out the rations, but as soon as he finished, he would be back to kiss her again. She stretched and asked him to hold her. Hoos planted a kiss on her lips, then stroked her cheek before leaving the room.
A moment later someone knocked on the door. Theresa supposed it would be Hoos, so she ran to open it still half-naked, but before her appeared Alcuin’s face, with a grim expression on it. The monk asked to come in, and she assented as she covered herself.
The willowy figure paced up and down the room before stopping to give her a slap.
“May I ask what you think you’re doing?” he blurted out in indignation. “Do you think anyone will believe the miracle if you go about merrymaking with the first person who crosses your path?”
Theresa reddened from shame, looking at him with trepidation. She had never seen him so worked up.
“What if somebody saw you? Or if that Hoos opens his big mouth?”
“I… I didn’t.”
“For goodness’ sake, Theresa! Your mother has just confessed to me that she saw him leaving your room, so don’t start acting all prudish now.”
“I’m sorry!” She burst into tears. “I love him.”
“Oh! You love him do you? So marry him and start having children! In fact, why not go the market first and announce to all and sundry that you have carnal knowledge of Hoos—that the revenant has found a more pleasurable angel, and they should devote the chapel they want to build in your honor to the Devil himself!”
Alcuin sat down, his nerves in shreds.
Theresa didn’t know what to say.
He drummed his fingers on the chair, looking her up and down. Finally, he stood. “You must stop seeing him. At least for a while. Until people have calmed down and forgotten about the fire.”
Theresa agreed, red-faced.
Alcuin nodded several times, then blessed her before leaving the room without another word.
Moments later her stepmother appeared. Rutgarda, who had stayed overnight at her sister’s house, had been waiting outside for Alcuin to leave. She walked in without a greeting, her eyes fixed on her stepdaughter. Though Rutgarda was much shorter than her, she took Theresa by the shoulders and shook her hard,
telling her that she was a brainless little tart. With her behavior, Rutgarda assured her, she wasn’t only putting herself in danger, but also giving ammunition to those who were accusing Gorgias of murder. She gave her such a talking to that Theresa wished she were deaf. She loved her father, but the situation was becoming unbearable. She wanted Würzburg to disappear from the face of the earth, for every last inhabitant to vanish, so she could be alone with Hoos. She didn’t care what they would say, or what they thought would happen to them. She just wanted to be beside him. She would leave the fortress and ask Hoos to take her away from that awful place, to go with her to Fulda, where her lands and her slaves would give them a new life. There they could grow old together in peace, with no more fear or lies.