“I’m not hungry. Thank you.”
“Alcuin, for the love of God. You saw it yourself. The boat was already on its way and those poor wretches were trapped. There was nothing else I could do.”
“You might not have thought the same had it been you trapped there,” he responded angrily.
“Don’t fool yourself. I might not be the kind of person you would share an evening of poetry with, but I saved your life.”
Alcuin nodded and walked away in irritation.
As soon as the sun came up, one of the oarsmen was lowered from the prow to assess the damage. After a while he reappeared, sour faced. “The hull’s ruined,” he informed them as they dried him off. “I doubt we’ll be able to repair it here.”
Izam shook his head. He could moor the boat to the bank to procure some timber, but it was an unnecessary risk.
“We’ll keep going for as long as the ship lasts.”
Alcuin awoke to the splashing of the oars. Beside him slept Flavio, half-covered in a blanket, and Theresa, curled up beside her father’s bag. Alcuin decided to wake them lest they freeze to death. While Flavio woke up, the young woman fetched a little wine and a slice of rye bread.
“They’ve rationed the provisions,” she informed them. “It would appear that much of the food was lost in the attack.”
“My leg hurts,” Flavio complained.
Alcuin lifted his robe. Fortunately, the Roman was a stout man and the arrow had embedded itself almost entirely in fat.
“We’ll have to remove it.”
“The leg?” he asked, alarmed.
“No, good Lord, the arrow.”
“Best we wait until we reach Würzburg,” Flavio suggested.
“All right. In the meantime try this cheese.”
Flavio took the cheese and bit into it. Suddenly Alcuin grabbed the arrow and pulled it out in one jerk. Flavio’s scream echoed around the mountains. Alcuin paid no attention, proceeding to pour a little wine on the wound. Then he covered it with some bandages that he had ready.
“Damned novice of a surgeon.”
“That wound could have developed complications,” he argued calmly. “Now get up and try to walk a little.”
Flavio obeyed begrudgingly, and soon he was staggering over to his belongings, dragging his feet as if they were in chains. He noticed one of his chests sitting in a puddle of water. He screamed hysterically and, with Alcuin’s help, moved the chest to a higher position.
“Judging by your face, it must contain something important,” Alcuin remarked, slapping the chest.
“Lignum crucis… a relic that travels with me,” an anguished Flavio explained.
“Lignum crucis? The wood from the Cross of Golgotha? The relic kept at the Sessorian Basilica?”
“I see you know what I speak of.”
“Indeed. Though in truth I’m pretty skeptical.”
“What? Are you implying—”
“Good God, no. I apologize,” he cut in. “Naturally I believe the authenticity of the lignum crucis, in the same way that I give credence to the bodies of Gervasius and Protasius, or the cape of Martin of Tours. But you will recall that there are many abbeys and bishoprics where all kinds of little bones have by chance been found.”
“Breve confinium veratis et falsi. It will not be me who disputes the authenticity of relics that contribute to drawing souls to the Kingdom of Heaven.”
“I don’t know. Where matters of God are concerned, perhaps we should trust more in His commandments.”
“I see you have a gift for controversy.” Flavio tried to dry the chest with a damp cloth. “The talent of someone who wastes his breath without knowing the reason for his arguments. Do you know the true power of relics? Are you able to distinguish between the Lance of Longinus, the Holy Shroud, and the blood of a martyr?”
“I know that classification—but in any event, I repeat my apology. I did not wish to question—”
“If you do not wish it, then do not do it,” Flavio said loudly.
“I’m sorry, Father,” Alcuin responded, taken aback. “But, if it is no trouble, permit me to ask a final question.”
Flavio looked at him wearily, as if he could not be bothered to answer. “Yes?”
“Why are you taking the relic to Würzburg?”
The prelate seemed to think it over. Finally he responded. “As you will know, for years Charlemagne has been trying to subjugate the pagan Obodrites, Pannonians, and Bavarians. However, neither his continual campaigns nor his exemplary punishments have altered the fact that they remain Godless in the depths of their souls. The pagans are crude folks, stuck in the ways of polytheism, of heresy, of concubinage… with these people, the force of arms is necessary, though sometimes it is not enough.”
“Please continue.” Alcuin was already not sure he agreed with Flavio’s premise.
“Damned wound.” He paused to reposition his bandages. “Well, eight years ago Charlemagne and his host went to Italy in response to the Holy Pontiff’s entreaty. As you might know, the Lombards, not satisfied with ruling over the former Byzantine duchies, had invaded the cities of Faenza and Comacchio, besieged Ravenna, and subjugated Urbino, Montefeltro, and Sinigaglia.”
“You speak of Desiderius, the Lombard king.”
“That man, a king? For the love of God, don’t make me laugh. He might have called himself one, but he was nothing more than a serpent in human form. The king of treachery. That should have been his title.”
“But didn’t a daughter of Desiderius marry Charlemagne himself?”
“Indeed. Could you imagine a more heinous offense? The Lombard took it upon himself to wed his pup to Charlemagne and then, believing himself immune, attack the Vatican territories. However, Pope Adrian persuaded Charlemagne that he needed his help, and the king, after crossing the Great Saint Bernard Pass with his troops, surrounded the traitor at this lair in Pavia.”
“Without question the gesture of a good Christian.”
“In part, yes. But do not be fooled. Charlemagne wishes to contain the expansionist ambitions of the Lombard king as much as the pope did. After all, following his foreseeable victory, not only would Charlemagne return to the papacy the usurped territories under the liber pontificalis, but also benefit himself by appropriating the Lombard duchies of Spoleto and Benevento.”
“Interesting, to be sure. Please, do continue.”
Theresa was listening attentively.
“The rest you will know. Desiderius refused to leave Pavia, forcing Charlemagne to begin a siege. However, after nine months, Charlemagne’s host grew impatient. It would appear that they feared for their crops—and there was news of another revolt in the Saxon lands. Meanwhile, Desiderius remained trapped, so Charlemagne started to consider how he would end the siege.”