The Scribe (39 page)

“Yes. The prior Ludwig, and Kohl, the miller.”

Alcuin clenched his teeth. “And the cause of the poisoning? Did you speak to him of the ergot?”

Theresa shook her head no and explained that she had told him of a poison, but that she had not remembered the name of the fungus at that moment.

“Are you sure of this?”

“Yes,” she said emphatically.

“All right. Now close your eyes and I will absolve you.”

By the time Theresa opened them, all she saw was Alcuin leaving through the gate before turning to lock her in the sacristy.

Theresa quickly realized that nobody was coming to free her. She tried to pick the lock using her steel, but she only wore the tool down and hurt her fingers. After breaking the steel in two, she decided to give up.

She sat back on the bench and looked around. The sacristy occupied a small lateral apse that opened onto the transept’s ambulatory through a corridor sealed off by a second door. She observed that it had a circular alabaster window whose peculiar appearance suggested it was on the exterior wall. She remembered seeing a similar shape of window from the square. She noticed that the bottom of the alabaster window seemed to have been damaged by a stone, creating a little hole in the wall. She moved the bench under the window, and—standing on top—she was just tall enough to peer through the hole. Sure enough, the wall looked down on the main square, giving her a commanding view. She climbed down and sat on the bench to wait for someone to release her.

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.

Perhaps she should wait outside, Theresa thought briefly, but something drove her on so she jumped in through a window.
Inside, she heard Helga’s footsteps fading somewhere in the distance. She thought she could catch up with her if she cut across through the choir, so she opened the little door that led to the balcony and scanned the interior. She could see the altar, where a group of clergymen were having a heated argument. Then she saw Lothar and Alcuin, who stood in front of the clergymen. To the left of them Kohl was gagged and bound, looking as if he had been tortured.

She was so shocked that she momentarily forgot about Helga the Black and crawled to a corner where she could listen in. She thought she heard Alcuin defending the miller, when suddenly Lothar stood and angrily interrupted him. “Enough of your lectures! With the king’s permission, with the permission of the vicar of the holy see, with God’s blessing…” He stepped forward until he was directly in front of Alcuin. “The fact is that dozens of people have died from a sickness for which neither our physicians nor our prayers have found a cure. And the remarkable thing about these events is not that the perpetrator of the Plague, who anyone in their right mind would have attributed to the Devil, is in reality an abominable being of flesh and bone.” He stopped and pointed a finger at Kohl. “No. What is truly astounding is that this scum is being is defended by a monk, Alcuin of York, responsible for the safeguarding of our church.”

Astonished murmurs ran through the cathedral.

The bishop continued. “As I have already announced, this morning an official found a batch of cereal hidden on Kohl’s property, which, it would seem, is the cause of the poisoning. Grain that Kohl could not explain until torture cleansed his abominable soul. But now, after he has confessed to his vile crime, I ask myself: How far does the miller’s guilt stretch? A simple man, accustomed to luxury and plenty, with no education other than what he has learned working in the fields. For we might understand how greed could take hold of an ignorant soul like Kohl’s. We might even
forgive and exonerate him, given his generosity toward this congregation, and that he will no doubt continue to make. But how can we accept that an educated man, a monk like Alcuin of York, with his influence, his knowledge, and his position, should attempt to contradict what evidence and reason prove to be true?”

Theresa was surprised to hear Lothar attack Alcuin more than Kohl, but she was glad, at least, that someone had revealed the identity of the culprit.

“As I say, venerable brothers,” he went on, “Kohl is a murderer, and Alcuin is his protector. And while it’s true that Kohl has profited from the sale of his poisonous wheat, it is no less true that Alcuin has manipulated, obstructed, and distorted everything he knew about all of these deaths so that now, perhaps in a desperate attempt to cover up his own involvement, he stands as champion of this confessed criminal.”

Alcuin snorted in indignation. “Very good. Now if you have finished with your slander…”

“Slander, you say? Several members of this congregation have heard Kohl confess his guilt.”

Two nearby clerics nodded.

“Are they delirious, too?”

“A confession obtained through torture, if I heard correctly,” remarked Alcuin.

“What would you have recommended? That we offer him cake?”

Alcuin grimaced. “It would not be the first time an innocent man confessed guilt to escape the torturer’s implements,” the monk rebutted.

“And you propose that this is the case?” Lothar seemed to meditate for a moment. “Very well. Let us suppose that someone is convicted of the most heinous misdeeds. Let us suppose he had not committed them, but that to escape torture, the accused admits he has perpetrated these acts, thereby defaming himself. Even if this
confession is not made under oath, it is still an act of defamation, and if defaming a fellow human being is a mortal sin, then defaming oneself is even more wicked. And does it not then follow that he who renounces virtue to revel in sin and benefit from it will always stray from the path of righteousness?”

Alcuin shook his head. At that moment Charlemagne stood, making the two opponents look small in the shadow of his great stature. “My dear Lothar. I do not doubt that the miller is guilty, an important fact that will no doubt put an end to these terrible deaths. But do not forget who you are accusing. The accusations you are making against Alcuin are of such gravity that you must either prove that they are true or apologize to him as his rank and position warrant.”

“Beloved cousin,” said Lothar with exaggerated reverence to the king. “Everyone knows of your fondness for this Briton under whose charge you have placed the education of your sons. But it is precisely for this reason that I exhort you to heed my words. That my evidence might open eyes that are presently blinded to the truth.”

Charlemagne took his seat and yielded the floor to Lothar.

“Alcuin of York… Alcuin of York… Until recently, I myself would bow when I heard his name, always preceded by a reputation for wisdom and honor. And yet, look at him: Behind that guarded, impassive, imperturbable face hides an egotistical soul, corrupted by vanity and envy. I ask myself how many others he must have deceived and what other crimes he must have committed.” Charlemagne coughed impatiently and Lothar acquiesced. “You ask for proof? I will provide it. So much proof that you will wonder how you could have placed your trust in this instrument of the Devil. But first, allow my men to take Kohl away.”

Lothar clapped his hands and immediately three servants appeared and led the mill owner out of the church. When they
returned they were accompanied by Kohl’s wife, dressed in mourning.

The woman seemed alarmed, but Lothar soothed her. “If you cooperate, nothing bad will happen to you. Now swear on this Bible.”

She obeyed. Then after paying her respects to the king, she sat on the stool Lothar gave her.

From her hiding place, Theresa could see that the woman was trembling with fear. She remembered having seen her at the mill the day she accompanied Alcuin.