The Scribe

After passing a muddy section where the men had to do as much pulling as the beasts, Izam called a halt. He judged that the road had opened up sufficiently to provide a safe place to make camp, so the men positioned the wagons in a row along the bank of the stream before tethering the horses to the first cart and unloading the fodder for the animals. A servant lit a fire over which he arranged several joints of venison, while Izam assembled the rest of them into organized watches.

Once all the arrangements for their camp were complete, they made themselves comfortable around the fire and drank until the meat was well roasted. Theresa helped the cooks, who celebrated the presence of a woman who was skilled with the pots. A couple of lookouts returned with some rabbits, much to the delight of the papal mission. The less fortunate had to make do with oatmeal porridge and salt pork—but the wine was shared with all, and the men gabbed and laughed as they emptied their tankards.

As Theresa cleared up some bowls, Izam came up behind her. “You’re not drinking wine?” he said, offering her some.

She turned around, startled. “No, thank you. I prefer water,” she said, taking a sip from her cup.

Izam was surprised. While traveling most people chose to drink watered-down wine, or failing that, beer, for both were less likely to cause illness than contaminated water.

He insisted. “This stream can’t be trusted. Its bed is not stony, and it flows from west to east. Plus, we passed a settlement of tenant farmers a couple of miles back—no doubt all their waste is flowing downstream.”

Upon hearing that, Theresa spat the water out and accepted Izam’s cup. The wine was strong and hot.

“I tried to say hello to you earlier, but you were busy.”

She responded with a forced smile. She saw Hoos eating venison and was worried he might see them.

“Is he your betrothed?” he asked.

“Not yet.” She blushed, without quite knowing why.

“It’s a shame I’m engaged,” he lied.

For some reason she didn’t like his comment, but they spoke for a while about the difficulties of the journey.

Finally, she gave in to her curiosity. “You know what? I don’t believe you really are engaged,” she said, smiling, and instantly she regretted her boldness.

Izam burst into laughter.

At that moment Alcuin arrived to congratulate them. “For your cooking, Theresa, and you, Izam, for your skill guiding the delegation,” he said.

Izam thanked him and left to attend to a couple of soldiers who were demanding his presence. Theresa took the opportunity to interrogate Alcuin about Izam of Padua.

“I really don’t know whether he has a maiden,” the monk answered, surprised he was being asked such a question.


They arrived in Frankfurt early the next day. Hoos and Izam used the morning to scour the port in search of the most appropriate ships. At the wharf they found solid Frankish sailing boats, Danish ships with spacious holds, and broad-bellied Frisian vessels. Izam was keen on strong and capacious hulls, while Hoos preferred light craft.

“If we come across ice, we might have to tug them,” Hoos remarked.

They finally decided on two heavy boats, well furnished with oars, and a light ship that could be dragged up the river if necessary.

At midday they began loading the vessels. They all ate together in a nearby warehouse, and a couple of hours later, the three boats were cleaving through the Main River crammed with animals, soldiers, and priests.





23

Alcuin of York could never have imagined that such a string of blasphemies could come from the mouth of a prelate. However, when Flavio Diacono heard the creaking of the hull, he didn’t stop cursing until the ship became completely stuck in the ice.

“We should never have embarked on this voyage!” Flavio blurted out as he climbed down from the boat with his arms full of belongings. “What is this wretch trying to do? Kill us all?”

Izam scowled back at him as he spat out the piece of meat he had been chewing for some time. He had enough on his plate trying to free the hull, without having to worry about the complaints of a couple of fussy priests. He looked ahead and swore. A completely frozen river stretched out in front of him.

Since they had set sail from Frankfurt, the voyage had been without incident and they had seen nothing more than the random plaque of ice to concern them. Fortunately the ships that were following them had managed to avoid crashing their stern and they were bobbing tamely behind. He quickly positioned a couple of beams at the bow, ordered the crew to empty the hold, and made sure the provisions and animals were located on the most solid part of the ice floe. Hoos led a group across the ice to the bank.

Flavio could not be calmed. “I’ll be damned if I know what’s going on! Now what is that man doing?”

“I don’t know,” replied Alcuin. “Getting us out of here, I suppose. That’s what we’re paying him for,” he said, continuing to gather up his books. “Please hold this Bible for me with care. It’s a very valuable specimen.”

Flavio grabbed the Bible and threw it heedlessly onto a stack of bales. He was annoyed by Theresa’s presence and the carefree attitude with which Alcuin was responding to the serious situation.

“Perhaps we are preparing to go back?” Theresa ventured.

“I don’t think so. In fact, I could swear they are intending to lift the boat out of the water and drag it across the ice,” said Alcuin.

“Have you lost your senses? How is someone going to drag a boat to Würzburg?” the Roman interjected again.

“My dear Flavio, look around you,” he said without lifting his gaze. “If Izam wanted to turn back, he would’ve used one of the other ships to tug us out. However, he has tied the ropes to the cutwater at the prow, not the stern, and then he yoked the oxen, which can only mean he intends to lift it up out of the ice.”

“But that is insane. How are thirty men going to pull a boat?”

“Thirty-one, Father,” said Theresa, who had already counted them.

“And you will be party to this foolishness?” he asked Alcuin.

“If we hope to reach Würzburg, of course,” said Alcuin, putting away some bottles. “And since it doesn’t appear like you are intending to push or pull, you could at least help me with these quills. Secure them in place there, alongside the inkwells.”

“But it’s impossible!” he insisted as he handled the instruments. “Thirty men dragging a boat—or thirty-one, unless they want to die pulling. Look at the size of the hull: It’s over twenty paces wide. And the provisions? What will happen with the provisions that we’re unloading now?”

“Maybe you should ask the commander.”

“Izam of Padua? Perhaps that upstart has spoken to you, but since we set sail from Frankfurt, he hasn’t said a word to me.” He put down the items he was holding and turned to face Alcuin. “Do you know what I think? That you’re delirious. What you’re saying is the ravings of an old monk who thinks he knows more than a prelate. What we should be doing is continuing on foot, following the course of the river. We have oxen, and well-armed men.”

“Well, here is what I think,” said Alcuin, “I think if you spoke less and helped more, we would have already finished unloading the ship.”

“Alcuin! Remember that I warrant respect.”

“And you remember that I deserve rest. As you say, I am not young. If I am to pull the ship, I need repose.”

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