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‘The copyists had permission to add creatures shown in other books in the palace library.’

I closed the book gently and carefully so as not to distort the fresh stitching. ‘In Kaupang a hunter told me about a wondrous bird that has a beak striped with all the colours of the rainbow. That would make a very striking gift between monarchs.’

‘I’m sure the caliph already has more than enough parrots in his zoo,’ said Alcuin drily.

‘Not a parrot. A sea bird that eats fish and lives in cliffs. It flutters its wings so fast that, in flight, it flies like a bee. My informant couldn’t tell me its Frankish name.’

‘And it tastes delicious,’ interrupted Alcuin.

‘That’s right! Dark flesh, with a flavour like pigeon.’

Alcuin broke into a sudden, boyish grin. It was something I had never seen before. ‘In my youth I spent three years at a monastery on a remote island off the coast of north Britain. In spring time we caught and ate those birds by the dozen, their eggs too. But I don’t think you’ll find them illustrated in that book. They’re called puffins.’

I must have looked crestfallen because he added, not unkindly, ‘And that gaudy beak is only colourful in summer. The rest of the year it looks very ordinary.’

I thought back to the white furs I had seen in Kaupang’s market, winter furs from creatures that wore much more drab colours for the rest of the year. It occurred to me that animals, like humans, could deceptively change to suit the occasion.

Alcuin was still chuckling when there was a discreet knock on his door. He gestured at me to open it. A chancery clerk was standing on the threshold, soberly dressed in a brown tunic, grey leggings and lightweight summer shoes. Then I noticed that his clothes were of very expensive fabric and beautifully cut. He was in his late thirties, of about my own height, slim and fit-looking. From a cap of short black curls to the beardless, fine-boned face with its pointed chin, everything about him was neat and self-contained.

‘Come in, Abram,’ said Alcuin from behind me. ‘I want you to meet Sigwulf. The two of you will be in one another’s company for many weeks. I’m sure you will get along well.’

The newcomer’s brown eyes rested for the barest fraction of a moment on the book in my hand, before he gave me a pleasant open smile, showing small, even teeth, and said, ‘I understand you have just returned from a most successful venture to the Northlands, a region I would dearly love to visit. Perhaps you will be able to tell me all about it.’

Maybe it was because he reminded me of Osric, my closest friend, that I took an instant liking to Abram. They both had the same quietly intelligent look, the same dark skin and fine features and self-assured poise, though of course Abram was many years younger and did not have Osric’s lop-sided stance with his damaged neck and badly set leg.

‘It’ll be the other way round, Sigwulf,’ observed Alcuin as the visitor joined us. ‘I doubt anyone has travelled to more countries than Abram has. He’s more likely to be telling you about foreign countries. How many languages do you speak, Abram?’

The newcomer spread his hands in a depreciating gesture. ‘Just a few.’ His Frankish was perfect, without the trace of an accent.

‘Just a few with absolute fluency, you mean,’ chided Alcuin. He turned to me. ‘Abram speaks a dozen languages well, and I suspect he has a working knowledge of the same number again. He’s being modest.’

Abram deflected the compliment with a slight shrug. ‘I hope to be more successful as a dragoman for Sigwulf than I was in delivering a live elephant to King Carolus.’

‘A dragoman? That’s a word I’ve not heard before,’ I said.

He turned to me and there was a twinkle in his eye as he made a small circling motion with his right hand, touching first his chest and then his brow. ‘In Rome you may call me your “dragumannus”, in Arab lands your “tarjuman”, and if we reach the realm of the Khazars, a “tercuman”.’

He had succeeded in making me laugh. ‘Plain Frankish will do for now.’

‘Then I am your dragoman. I’m sure you noticed the similarity between the different words. They all have the same meaning: someone who acts as guide and interpreter.’

Abram’s mention of the elephant prompted me to ask Alcuin about the condition of the aurochs that had cost Vulfard his life.

‘It left Aachen the same day that we received word that you had got back. The plan is to assemble all your animals at Dorestad and to take them by water as far as possible. It makes their transport easier.’

The bell for tierce tolled faintly, the sound muffled by the substantial brick walls of the chancery. ‘Time for chapel,’ said Alcuin. He handed me a single sheet of vellum, rolled and sealed, which had been lying among the documents on his desk. ‘Here’s the letter for my friend in Rome. His name is Paul. He works for Pope Adrian as his Nomenculator.’

‘Nomenculator?’ I asked.

‘The official who deals with requests for favours from the pope.’ Alcuin got to his feet. ‘Let’s hope that you don’t have to call upon his professional intervention.’

He accompanied Abram and myself out into the corridor. ‘Sigwulf, the chancery is finalizing your travel documents. Carolus has designated you as his special envoy. He is determined that your embassy is a success.’

There was an awkward pause as Alcuin hesitated. The sound of the church bell came from our right, from the basilica. To the left lay the offices of the chancery. I realized that Alcuin was giving me a chance to accompany him to the church service. When I made no move, he pulled the door closed behind us, turned on his heel abruptly and strode off, sandals clacking on the stone flags. I had a shrewd idea he was disappointed: he would have preferred an ardent Christian to be taking Carolus’s gifts to the caliph. But Abram was an Israelite and Osric’s origins were in Hispania. If the white animals did reach Baghdad, they would be brought before the caliph by a Jew, a Saracen and someone who was not even a churchgoer.

Chapter Seven

I spent most of the next day alternately arguing and pleading with the treasury’s senior bookkeeper. A stickler for detail, he demanded full and proper accounts for the funds I had taken to Kaupang. When I was unable to provide them, he showed his displeasure by restricting the amount of silver allowed for the new mission. He provided instead a document authorizing me to requisition supplies from royal stores along the road. I considered going directly to Carolus to put a stop to this bureaucratic nonsense but was wary of being seen again in the royal apartments. There was too much risk of encountering Princess Bertha, and early the following morning I slipped out from Aachen feeling relieved that I had avoided her. I was on my way to rejoin Osric and the others. As arranged, Abram was waiting for me an hour’s brisk ride along the now-familiar road. With him were three mounted servants in charge of half a dozen packhorses. The men had the vigilant yet patient manner of seasoned travellers and I guessed they were Abram’s regular attendants.

‘I hope we don’t run out of money,’ I confided to Abram after explaining my tussles with the skinflint in the treasury.

‘I can arrange cash for us along the way,’ he answered.

‘As far as Baghdad?’

He gave an easy smile. ‘As far as necessary.’

The sun was burning off the dawn mist and the day promised to be blisteringly hot. The horse provided to me by the royal stables had already worked up a sweat and we paused for a few minutes to allow the animal to cool down. The dragoman took the opportunity to introduce his attendants to me. One of them was a cook, good at producing a decent campfire meal, and another was handy with making running repairs to the tents and other equipment strapped to the horses. There was no need to ask about the third man. He had a serviceable-looking sword dangling from his saddle and was evidently a bodyguard. Never before had I felt so well prepared when starting on a journey.

‘Does your cook prepare special meals for you?’ I asked as we moved off at a gentle amble. It was a leading question for I was curious to know more about my travelling companion. I presumed his attendants were his co-religionists but he had made no mention of the fact.