*
Amid all the bustle and clatter of the building works it was reassuring to find that Alcuin was just as I remembered him – tall and spare, dressed in the same dark gown and sandals, a calm, watchful expression on his intelligent face, and his same habit of coming straight to the point.
‘How did you get on?’ he asked as he opened the door to his cell-like office and saw me on the threshold. ‘Do come in.’
This time there was no aurochs horn on display, and he waited for me to finish recounting the outcome of the visit to Kaupang before he sat down again behind his desk. ‘A fair result,’ he said.
There was no other seat in the room, so I remained on my feet feeling like an errant schoolboy facing his master. ‘I wish we had been able to bring back a unicorn. That was what the king wanted most of all.’
‘Really.’ He put just enough scepticism into that single word to make it clear that he thought this had been an impossible quest.
‘I managed to bring back an example of the creature’s horn. I’ve given it to the king,’ I told him.
‘I look forward to inspecting it,’ he murmured politely. However, the scepticism did not leave his eyes. Both of us knew that charlatans sold fakes to gullible clients.
‘The king mentioned that there’s an additional gift that I am to carry to Baghdad,’ I said brightly, hoping to change the subject to something more positive.
‘I’ll come to that in a moment. First, you need to be aware of a recent political development.’ He put his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers as he studied me carefully.
‘You are aware of the route the embassy will follow?’ he asked.
‘Upriver by barge, then across the Alps to Rome, from there by sea to the Holy Land and then . . .’ I fell silent. My grasp of the geography of the eastern lands was hazy.
‘. . . Or possibly up the river Nile,’ he continued for me, ‘then by caravan across the desert, and finally by ship to Baghdad. A very long journey, with many risks: blizzards and avalanches in the mountains; sand storms in the desert; gales at sea. Fortunately, as I mentioned before, you will have a very competent guide who has made the journey in the reverse direction, bringing that unlucky elephant. I’ve arranged for him to come here so I can introduce you.’
Alcuin lowered his hands to lie flat on the surface of the table. Their backs were faintly mottled with light freckles, and there was a smudge of ink on his right index finger.
‘What I have to say is best explained before he gets here. It concerns other than the physical dangers.’ His tone remained restrained and calm, but his expression was very serious. ‘Recently there have been overtures from Constantinople, proposing a marriage union between the royal houses of Frankia and Byzantium. There was even a hint of a wedding between Carolus and the regent empress Irene.’
It occurred to me to say that Carolus was already married, and for the third time. He also had a string of mistresses. But of course that was no obstacle to a political union.
Alcuin held my gaze. ‘The proposal was declined as diplomatically as possible. Nevertheless, the Byzantines are sure to have seen it as a snub.’
More of a slap in the face, I thought, from someone who was in the process of sending rare gifts to the caliph instead.
‘Sigwulf, you will be travelling through regions where the Greeks, the Byzantines, are very influential. They would dearly like your embassy to fail. You will need to be on your guard, even in Rome itself.’
The image of the gold solidus gleaming on Redwald’s desk in Kaupang sprang into my mind. ‘Perhaps Carolus can ask the pope to offer the embassy additional protection?’ I ventured.
‘Pope Adrian is a staunch friend. I’m sure he will do everything he can to assist a ruler whose allegiance to Holy Church is without question.’
Alcuin paused, perhaps he was aware how bland his last statement had been. His next words brought a dash of icy realism.
‘Pope Adrian is nearly ninety years of age so there is always the question of who will succeed him. There are factions and counterfactions in the Eternal City and they will take advantage of any opportunity to further their own candidate, including serving Byzantine interests.’
Alcuin’s eyes were red-rimmed from lack of sleep. I wondered how many hours each day he was obliged to spend giving government advice. ‘Fortunately, I have a good friend in Rome whose advice will guide you through those murky undercurrents. I have personally written a letter of introduction for you,’ he said.
‘The additional gift for the caliph . . . ?’ I reminded him.
Alcuin’s careworn expression was replaced with something more cheerful. ‘Yes, and it’s something you will appreciate.’
He stood up and went to the shelves that lined the wall on his right. They held his writing materials. He took down what I had assumed was a thin stack of fresh vellum but now I saw was a newly sewn book that had been lying with its spine against the wall.
‘The king’s own idea. I’ve seldom seen him so excited about a project,’ said Alcuin, placing the book in my hands. ‘I had to assign four of my best copyists to get it ready in time.’
I looked down at the volume. It was expensively bound in what I guessed was fine goatskin. The cover was stamped and dyed with interlaced patterns in green, blue and red, and the detailing was outlined in gold leaf.
‘A hurried job but the best we could do,’ Alcuin explained. ‘Carolus is concerned that not all the animals he is sending the caliph will survive the journey. If that happens, you are to use this book to show the caliph what creatures had been selected for him, apologize for their loss, and enquire if there are any replacements that the caliph might prefer.’ Alcuin allowed himself a tight smile. ‘You will also take the opportunity to point to the animals that Carolus himself would like to receive for his own zoo.’
Carefully I lifted the cover of the volume. The fresh stitching made the binding stiff, and the leather still had the chalky smell of the alum tanning.
It was another bestiary. The first page had an illustration of a lion with a heavy, curly mane, roaring over a small, sleepy-looking cub. Underneath was a paragraph summarizing the creature’s habits and nature.
A lion always sleeps with its eyes open and evades the hunter by using its tail to sweep away the tracks left by its paws in the sand or dust. The mother lion gives birth to five cubs the first year, four cubs the second year, and so forth. The cubs are born dead. They come to life when the mother breathes in their faces, and the father roars over them.
Below were several lines in Saracen script. I presumed they were the Arab translation.
Alcuin’s voice brought me out of the book. ‘Sigwulf, think of it as a catalogue, as a list of possible gifts that might be exchanged between a king and a caliph.’ He was smiling at me, half in amusement, half in warning. ‘Carolus wonders, for example, if by any chance the caliph can send him a griffin. You’ll find it on the third page.’
I turned to the correct illustration. It showed a bizarre, fierce-looking creature that had the body and tail of a lion but the head and wings of an eagle. The griffin, according to the description written underneath, was an enemy of horses and large enough to fly away carrying a live ox.
I looked up at Alcuin. ‘It seems a lot more extraordinary than a unicorn,’ I commented.
‘That is not your concern, Sigwulf. What matters is that the king believes the creature may exist.’
‘Do you think that there’s really such an animal as a griffin?’ I asked him.
Alcuin permitted himself a delicate shrug. ‘If there is, and you find one, then you will have added to our knowledge of the creatures God placed on this earth. Another wonder of God’s creation.’
I thought his reply was tactful but still sceptical.
‘Is this an exact copy of the bestiary that Carolus showed me?’ I was itching to look through the bestiary at my leisure and to discover what other bizarre and strange animals were thought to exist.