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.