The attendant working at the grain stall in the market, a haggard, one-eyed man, informed them that Hansser Kohl had already left. He said that if they hurried they would find him at the mill, for he was there taking a new shipment of barley. He gave them directions to the mill, which was located in a precipitous place that they would reach by exiting through the southern gates of the city and following the course of the river for a couple of miles toward the mountains.
Alcuin thanked the man for his explanation and set off at once. They crossed the city and left through the south gate just as directed before continuing along the riverbank, heading upstream at a good pace. If she had not been so out of breath, Theresa would have asked him how it was possible that he did not tire, but the monk didn’t give her the chance to rest even once. When they finally arrived in the vicinity of the mill, she felt ready to drop to her knees. They paused only briefly to observe the scenery.
The mill stood imposingly on the crag that the river torrent had carved out from the rock. A giant water wheel was positioned in the middle of the river and Theresa was surprised by its continuous, heavy creaking, only partially masked by the murmuring of the water itself. As they approached, she could see that the paddles were not driven by the river exactly, but by the current of a channel beside it, the flow of water regulated by a rudimentary sluice gate.
Alcuin admired the mill that was constructed like almost all buildings of its type on three levels. On the ground floor were the pulleys and cogs responsible for transferring the movement of the waterwheel to the great vertical axle that passed through the mill. The main level, the milling floor, housed two slotted-stone wheels threaded on the axle—one fixed and the other mobile that ground the grain by turning in opposite directions. And on the third floor were the grain store and its loading funnel. The cereals were poured down this chute, which ran through a hollow duct to the hole bored into the upper wheel, to finish grinding it between the millstones.
Alcuin observed that there was a small, fortified house adjoined to the mill. He could also see a stable and an enclosed storehouse where, he assumed, they kept the grain.
“What surprises me is its location so far from the town,” said Alcuin, looking at the building. “It’s also interesting that the house is made of stone. Perhaps the mill owner and his family are seeking extra protection.”
“And what have we come here for? To accuse them of something?”
“In truth I didn’t want to explain it to you because it’s still mere conjecture, but I suspect that the source of the sickness has been the wheat.” He took some grains from his pocket and handed them to Theresa. “To confirm it, I need to examine the cereal, so my plan is to pretend to be interested in doing business so that owner will give me a sample.”
“You think they’re poisoning the wheat?”
“Not exactly, no. But just in case, you keep your mouth shut.”
At that moment some dogs loitering around the stables started barking as though they were being thrashed, and two men appeared at the door armed with bows.
“What brings you here?” asked the better-dressed one, still aiming an arrow at them. Theresa presumed it was Kohl, and Alcuin was certain of it.
“Good morning,” Alcuin said, waving with both arms to show they were unarmed. “I come to talk business. May we come in? It’s freezing out here.”
The two men lowered their bows.
They were taken into the house rather than the mill, because according to the more modestly dressed man, the mill was cold and—for safety reasons—they did not light fires in the mill. Once inside, Kohl ordered the servant to bring some food. Then he called for his wife, who appeared, running from room to room as though the Devil pursued her. First she brought bread and cheese, then she filled all four cups from a jug of wine.
“Not a drop of water,” boasted Kohl, savoring the rich wine in his mouth. “So tell me—what business do you speak of?”
“From my attire you may have guessed that I come from the abbey.” He took a moment to raise his cup to everyone. “However, I must confess that I do not represent the abbey, but King Charlemagne. You see, the monarch is to visit Fulda soon, in two weeks’ time or less, and I would like to receive him with the greatest reverence. Unfortunately, our grain reserves have been considerably depleted, and what remains is starting to go bad. The chapter is also short of provisions, so I thought that perhaps I could acquire a batch from you. Let’s say… four hundred pecks?”
Kohl choked when he heard the figure, then coughed and poured himself another cup. Four hundred pecks was enough to feed an army. Without a doubt it would be a lucrative deal. “That will cost a large sum of money. I assume you know the cost of grain: three denarii for a peck of rye, two for a peck of barley, and one for oats. If what you need is flour…”
“Obviously, I would prefer it as grain.”
Kohl nodded. It was logical that if the abbey possessed two mills, it would want to save costs by doing its own processing.
“And by when do you need it?”
“As soon as possible. We need time to mill the wheat.”
“Wheat?” Kohl rose in surprise. “As far as I know nobody here mentioned that cereal. I can supply rye, barley, and oats—even spelt, if you want—but the chapter handles the wheat crops. You should know that.”
He did know it. He considered how to respond. “I also know that the abbey sometimes mislays batches that end up on the market,” he answered. Then he reminded him: “Four hundred pecks for sixteen thousand denarii.”
Kohl paced up and down, his eyes fixed on Alcuin. He knew it was risky, but it was precisely by taking risks that he had become wealthy.
“Come back tomorrow and we’ll talk. I have work to do this afternoon and I won’t be able to arrange anything.”
“Can we visit the mill?”
“They’re working in there at present. Perhaps some other time.”
“Excuse me for insisting, but I would like—”
“A mill is a mill. I’ve told you that they’re working.”
“Very well. Until tomorrow, then.”
When they had left the house, Theresa asked him if he had discovered anything, but Alcuin merely grumbled something about his bad luck. As they walked past the stables he told her that he needed to inspect the inside of the mill, but he had not insisted further to avoid arousing suspicion.
“Did you see the horses?” he added. “Six, not counting the ones that pull the cart.”
“And what does that mean?”
“Well, that there are a minimum of six people guarding the mill.”
“Too many?”
“Too many.”
Then he abruptly stopped as if he had remembered something. He retraced his steps back toward the house. Theresa followed. After making sure nobody was looking, he suddenly jumped over the fence and ducked into the stables. Again Theresa did as he did. Walking over to the horses’ saddlebags he rummaged through them, also inspecting the boards of the cart and the straw on the ground. He was on his knees when he called to Theresa. The young woman ran over and pulled out a wax tablet, assuming that he wanted her to write something down, but Alcuin shook his head. “Search the floor for grains like the ones I gave you.”
They rooted through the dung until they heard noises coming from the mill, at which point they stood and hastily made their escape.