The Scribe

“I built this following the descriptions provided by Vegetius in his work De Re Militari, a fourth-century manuscript on the art of war that Charlemagne showed to me. That was why I was surprised, not just that you not only chose it from the pile, but also that you knew how to use it.”

She told him that a man who had helped her in the mountain possessed a similar weapon. But when she told him that he had bought it from a soldier, he shook his head in wonder.

“The first one I built was stolen from me. Perhaps it was the soldier you mention, or even the man who helped you.”

They chatted for a while longer before she suggested they return. Izam agreed. He took one last look at the land and led the horses to the stream to water them. Once they had set off, Theresa spurred on her mount, for she was eager to tell Helga about all she had seen.

As they returned to Fulda, Theresa thanked the engineer again. Izam smiled, but told her that it was Charlemagne who she should be thanking. All he had done was follow his orders. When they finally went their separate ways, his green eyes lingered with her.


Back in the kitchens, Theresa found Helga plucking a pheasant. She seemed busy, but as soon as she saw Theresa, she dropped the bird and ran to meet her. Theresa suggested they go out to the well and take a break on the way. They sat on a stone bench and Helga demanded to hear every last detail. She listened to Theresa with such excitement it was as if the land belonged to her.

“And all that is yours?” she asked in disbelief.

Theresa nodded. She told her about the great expanse of the arable areas, the vineyards, the hay meadows, the river, and the house. Finally, she also mentioned the young man, Izam.

“He was very kind,” she said.

“And handsome,” Helga added, giving her a wink. She had seen him through the window.

Theresa smiled. Indeed, the engineer was attractive, though of course, not as handsome as Hoos. They continued to talk about the lands until Favila, fed up with their chitchat, came out to prod them back to work with a poker.

The two women laughed and ran to the kitchen to continue their conversation whenever the cook left the room. Theresa told her that she was worried about her lack of means to work the land, and Helga reassured her.

“But you can’t imagine how much there is to do! The lands are only half-tilled. I’ll need a plow and an ox—and someone to help me. So many things!”

“Oh! I bet you’d be less worried if you had debts instead of lands.”

Theresa fell silent. Perhaps, she thought, there was a neighbor who could give her advice, but the fact was that the only person she had to turn to for help was right in front of her. Seeing her despondency, Helga put her arm around her.

“Cheer up! I still have some of the money you gave me when you sold the bear’s head. You could use it to buy a young ox.”

“But that money’s for my lodgings.”

“Don’t be silly, lass. You got me this job, so don’t you worry about it. Anyway, this is your opportunity: When the land starts to bear fruit, you’ll pay me back with interest.” She pinched her cheek.

She explained that a one-year-old ox cost twelve denarii, while an adult one ranged between forty-eight and seventy-two, or in other words, around three months’ wages. To Theresa the price seemed within anyone’s reach, but Helga explained that nobody can go three months without eating. When they had finished their cooking duties, Theresa continued the conversation.

“Izam said we can return to the lands tomorrow. What do you think I should call them?”

“Hmmm, let me think… Theresa’s wonderlands!” she said, laughing.

The young woman cuffed Theresa around the head and Helga returned the gesture, making them laugh like little girls.


In the afternoon Theresa returned to the scriptorium, where she found Alcuin buried in his documents. She had hundreds of questions for him, but as she was about to start asking them, the monk stood.

“I saw Izam. He told me that your lands are excellent.”

“Yes… though I don’t know how they can be excellent if I don’t even know how to work them,” she lamented.

“You appear to have two good hands.”

“And little else. What good are those fields to me if I have no tools, no animals?”

“In that case, you could lease it and obtain an income.”

“Izam suggested the same thing. But to whom? Those who could afford it already have more than enough land.”

“Find someone who will work it in exchange for part of the crop.”

“Izam proposed that, too, but he explained that those folks do not possess plows or oxen, so they would not be able to work the land and generate a profit.”

“All right. Then I’ll tell you what we’ll do. Tomorrow is Thursday. After Terce we’ll go to the market, find a hardworking slave and buy him for your lands. There are tons of them, so we might get a good price.”

Theresa could not believe what she was hearing. It felt like her life was growing more complicated by the moment. If she did not even have enough for herself, how could she own a slave?

Alcuin admitted to her that Charlemagne had already suggested this possibility, then Alcuin assured her that keeping a slave did not have to be expensive.


The next morning they left early for the camp that the king’s men had set up on the outskirts of the city. According to Alcuin, the slave traders used the monarch’s visits as an opportunity to conduct business, whether buying captured enemies who had been enslaved or selling some of their best slaves. However, after a few days, the traders reduced their prices in order to get rid of the less sought-after individuals.

“Twelve solidi?” Theresa’s hands went to her mouth. “But you could buy three oxen for that!”

Alcuin explained that it was the usual price for a young, well-trained slave, but if they hunted around they might find one for cheaper. When Theresa told him how much money she had, Alcuin showed her a bulging pouch.

“I could lend you some.”

As they walked toward the walls, Alcuin spoke to her of the responsibility that came with owning slaves. “It’s not just a matter of giving orders and them obeying you,” he explained. “Believe it or not, slaves are God’s creatures, too, and as such we must ensure their well-being. And this includes feeding them, clothing them, and educating them as good Christians.”

Theresa looked at him in surprise. In Constantinople she had grown up surrounded by slaves who she had always considered as creatures of God, but she had never imagined that owning one could result in so many problems. When Alcuin explained that owners were also responsible for the crimes committed by their slaves, she became even more alarmed.

“That’s why it’s best not to buy them young—when they are agile and strong, but also rebellious and irresponsible. Unless you are prepared to take a whip to them, you are better off finding one that is married with children—so he won’t attempt to escape or cause problems. Yes, the best thing to do is find a family that will work hard and generate a profit for you.”

He added that even if she found a hard worker, she would have to keep a close eye on him because, by nature, slaves were short on brains.

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