The Scribe

Wilfred nodded.

They agreed to report back to each other as soon as they had any news. Then the count cracked his whip and left the kitchens. Alone in the room, Alcuin looked at the poor naked woman. He covered her with a sack and made the sign of the cross over her, thinking it lamentable that her carnal desires had led to her demise.





27

The day passed by slowly for Wilfred. Izam and his subordinates scoured granaries, barns, storehouses, towers, wells, tunnels, moats, passages, attics, cellars, carts, bales of straw, barrels, chests, and even cupboards. Nowhere went unchecked. Every man was questioned and searched from head to toe. Wilfred offered fifty arpents of vineyards to anyone who could provide information on the whereabouts of his daughters, and thirty more for the heads of their abductors. He locked himself in the armory and demanded hourly reports on the progress of the investigations.

Meanwhile, with Theodor’s help, he made a list of loyal subjects and another of adversaries. In the first, he wrote down only four names, then one by one decided to removed them. In the second, he included so many names that he did not wish to tell Alcuin. Wilfred excluded all newcomers from his list of suspects, for he believed that the abduction of his daughters had been a long time in the planning. In fact, he had accepted Alcuin’s suggestion to double the search party by forming two groups: one of his own men and another made up of the ship’s crew, led by Izam.

At sundown, Wilfred sent his men to scour the area. Violent exchanges and shouting could be heard throughout the night as soldiers interrogated townsfolk. Several priests were tortured, but at dawn, the soldiers returned with empty hands.

The next day was identical to the previous one. First thing in the morning, Wilfred decreed that the rationing of grain should be put on hold until the twins were found. He also sealed off the city walls so that no inhabitant could leave or enter without his knowledge. Alcuin advised him against indiscriminate reprisals, but the count assured him that as soon as the rabble were beset by hunger, the kidnappers would be turned in.

Since the girls had been abducted, Hoos had been very involved in the search. At first he had assisted Izam. Then, making the most of Wilfred’s trust in him, he put himself forward to inspect the royal granaries and their adjoining tunnels. Wilfred then placed Hoos in charge of his own men.


Theresa longed for Hoos’s caresses. She could still feel the intensity of his kisses, still taste his skin. Sometimes she caught herself pressing her legs together as if she could keep him there. Nonetheless, since their last encounter, she had hardly seen him. He was always busy, and she would rise early to go to the scriptorium, which she left only to eat in the kitchens. It even crossed her mind that he had taken up with another woman, and when she saw him she told him as much. He seemed hard-pressed, but even so, it bothered her when he said good-bye without even giving her a kiss.

While Theresa made progress in the scriptorium, Alcuin assessed the reports on the kidnapping that reached the fortress. Among them, there were several who claimed they had seen the late wet nurse practicing witchcraft, and others who blamed wolves for the little girls’ disappearance. Some seemed well intentioned, but most were from unscrupulous townsfolk lured by the reward. Several men had been thrashed for making up lies, but one of them mentioned the theft of some booties from the laundry.

Alcuin questioned the midget monk in charge of domestic services. He confirmed they were missing. “Sometimes clothes are mislaid, but with the twins’ garments, we were always quite careful.”

He assured him that it had been four booties, plus a couple of the cloths used in the kitchens. Alcuin thanked him and returned to the scriptorium, convinced that the twins were still in the fortress. In a meeting with Izam, Alcuin suggested they keep watch over the storehouses and kitchens.

“If, like I suspect, they are still here, their abductors might need food.”

“That’s impossible. We’ve left no stone unturned.”

“I don’t doubt that, but there are more stones here than in a quarry.”

Alcuin asked Izam to post a guard at the door of the scriptorium day and night, which Izam agreed to readily. He also agreed to keep watch over the kitchens and report anything new to Wilfred in the morning.

That night, taking advantage of the moon’s absence, several hungry townspeople clambered over the wall that protected the royal granaries. The assailants were driven away, but it became very clear that Wilfred’s restrictive measures would soon bring serious consequences.

The next day at breakfast, Wilfred hardly ate. He was not interested in Alcuin’s discoveries and paid no attention when he was informed about the assault on the granaries. He seemed absent, as if some potion had clouded his mind. Fortunately, in a moment of lucidity he agreed to resume the distribution of provisions and allow for the transportation of goods. Izam applauded the decision, for it would prevent further incidents, although, like many others, he wondered what had triggered the change of heart. When Alcuin queried Wilfred on the matter, he refused to answer. The monk continued to prod him, but the count suggested that Alcuin concentrate on the parchment and step back from the kidnapping investigation. From now on, he said, he would lead the search for his daughters himself.

Over the course of the afternoon, normality returned to the fortress. Gradually the servants went back to their tasks, the grain was distributed to the townsfolk, and preparations began for the first hunt, which would take place with the arrival of spring. Izam and his men continued the repairs to the ship, which they had only half finished when they arrived in the city, and Wilfred’s soldiers returned to man the defenses.


The congregation attending the Sext service plodded into the Church of Saint John Chrysostom as unhurried as a herd of grazing sheep. The procession was led by Flavio Diacono wearing a striking purple biretta similar to a pope’s. He was followed by a retinue of clerics dressed like peacocks, followed by the minor orders, and then the choir boys. At the rear of the procession were a throng of curious townsfolk, worshippers, and starvelings wanting to attend a Eucharist to pray for the safe return of the twins.

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