20
When Gorgias awoke, he prayed that it had all been a dream, but around him he saw the walls that had imprisoned him for over a month. Each morning Genseric visited the crypt to check on the progress of the document that Gorgias was transcribing, bring him a stewpot containing his daily rations, and remove his bucket of waste through the hatch in the door.
Gorgias endeavored to write as carefully as his faculties would permit. But he soon realized that the coadjutor was only paying attention to the quantity of text, disregarding the accuracy of expression and the elegance of the calligraphy. At first he attributed Genseric’s silence in regards to the text to his poor eyesight, but then he remembered that Genseric had never learned Greek. He was sure that Wilfred must be aware of this fact, and so it was odd that he did not demand to see the text for himself. This made him reconsider.
When the coadjutor left, Gorgias began to eat from the pot of food just delivered to him. He thought about Genseric and his pale blue eyes. After a while he stood.
His pale blue eyes.
And what if the man who had stabbed him on the day of the fire had been Genseric himself? The coadjutor did not seem the kind of individual to assault a younger man, but it had been nighttime, and it was a surprise attack. He recalled including Genseric in his list of initial suspects alongside the midget monk and the precentor—although, due to Genseric’s age, he was last in line. Gorgias was sure his attacker already knew about the parchment in his bag. And Genseric had knowledge of the castle’s documents and, it would appear, its secret passages.
He paced around in circles. Wilfred had always told him that he was transcribing a secret text, but if this were the case, then why did he now entrust it to Genseric? There was a stabbing pain in his arm but he ignored it. What’s more, why would the count want to lock him up? And if he needed the document so badly, why was he not checking on his progress himself?
No. It made no sense. The only explanation was that Genseric was acting independently. The coadjutor attacked him and stole the copy of the parchment containing the annotations in Latin, and now he wanted to do the same with the transcription in Greek.
He pondered the events for the rest of the day, until he decided that Genseric must know the immense importance of the parchment. For Wilfred spoke of its power with fear, though he did not explain why. For some reason Genseric coveted this power, and without a doubt he would kill to obtain it.
Gorgias reexamined the text he had been translating from Latin into Greek and estimated that, continuing at the same pace, he would finish the work in around ten days. He had this long to figure out a way to save his life. Over the next few days he devised a plan of escape.
Genseric normally appeared after the Terce service, stayed a while in the antechamber and then opened the hatch to supply him with food. Sometimes he left it open while waiting for the text, which might be the opportunity Gorgias needed.
The hatch, a sort of small vertical cylinder, had a couple of partitions located between its top and bottom, forming two more receptacles. He judged that a piglet would hardly fit in either, so even if he could dismantle the partitions, he would never fit through the hole. However, he thought that if he could distract Genseric, perhaps he could grab his arm and force him to unlock the door.
It was Wednesday. He decided to attempt his ploy on the Sunday, which would give him enough time, he thought, to file through the partition mountings on the hatch.
By Thursday afternoon he managed to loosen the first one. Once he had filed through it, he concealed the damage with some bread wetted with black ink. By Friday he had dislodged the second and third, but on Saturday he had still not managed to file away the last one. He had worked without respite but the wound on his arm prevented him from continuing. That night he could not sleep peacefully.
When he heard Genseric arriving on Sunday, the last partition was still in place. For a moment he thought about giving up, but then thought he might manage to force it open. Desperate, he rested his foot against the partition and pushed with all his might. It didn’t budge. Finally, with a kick, he made it jump out of its housing, just as he heard the front door of the chapel unlock.
Gorgias had just enough time to reposition the hatch and clumsily secure it in place with the putty he had prepared. When Genseric asked about the noise, Gorgias told him he had fallen against his chair.
He prayed that he would not notice the imperfections in the hatch. But soon he heard him releasing and turning the revolving hatch as usual. The plate of peas confirmed that it was Sunday. He quickly took it and then placed an old, draft parchment in the hatch to see if Genseric could distinguish it. The coadjutor turned the hatch and removed the parchment, and just as Gorgias hoped, he did not secure the mechanism.
He quickly crouched down near the hatch. Now all he had to do was wait for it to turn again so he could strike the partition and trap Genseric’s arm. He started breathing so heavily that he thought he would alert the coadjutor. However, the old man was unalarmed. Gorgias thought he could hear him sliding his wrinkly fingers over the parchment. Suddenly he noticed that he was bolting the hatch.
“I must go over the text,” he informed him.
Gorgias cursed his bad luck. He knew it wouldn’t take long for Genseric to discover that the hatch had been tampered with. Suddenly, from behind the door, Gorgias heard an instrument scraping the housings. Then he heard a curse as a blow to the hatch almost knocked his teeth out. Gorgias stepped back while the curses continued to flow on the other side. He feared Genseric would do something stupid. However, the oaths became less frequent until they gradually disappeared like a storm in the distance before the door to the chapel slammed violently.
That night, a stranger arrived with Genseric. From inside his confinement, Gorgias could hear them arguing heatedly, their voices rising until they were shouting. The newcomer seemed highly agitated, and soon the voices were replaced by the sound of blows. Moments later, the hatch opened, and powerful arms removed the damaged partitions. Light entered the room, revealing a tattoo of a serpent.
Gorgias retreated, thinking he was about to die. Yet, nothing happened. The tattooed arm passed the old, draft parchment that Gorgias had given to Genseric back into the cell and then disappeared. Gorgias heard them reposition the partitions.
For three days, he was left alone with no news of Genseric