The Book of Dreams(51)

‘Count Gerard has been sharing his knowledge of the Saracens with me,’ began the king briskly. ‘My daughter tells me that you foretold the arrival of their embassy.’

‘You foretold their coming yourself, Your Majesty,’ I said diplomatically. ‘I merely interpreted your dream with the help of a book.’

The king looked unimpressed.

‘You also claim that their visit will have important results.’

‘That is what your dream would indicate, sire. But there is no clue as to what those results will be.’

The king turned to Gerard.

‘What do you make of them?’ he asked, referring to the three Saracen ambassadors.

‘I do not know them personally, my lord,’ Gerard said. ‘I understand that they are seeking your help against their overlord.’

‘And I have to decide whether to give it to them,’ the king grunted. He began to pace up and down the room with long, heavy strides. Occasionally a floorboard creaked beneath his weight. ‘The Saracen Lord of Barcelona takes the lead. He asks me to bring an army in Hispania to aid him against his rival, the Emir of Cordoba.’

‘There is always much rivalry among the Saracens,’ Gerard agreed. ‘They form factions and fight among themselves. It was what saved Septimania in my father’s day. The leaders of the Saracen invasion quarrelled among themselves.’

‘So you don’t think this embassy is here to draw us into a trap?’

‘Treachery is possible, but unlikely,’ said Gerard.

The king stopped his pacing and studied me, his grey eyes shrewd and probing.

‘If I had more dreams to tell you, young man, perhaps they would reveal what answer I should give these Saracens.’ He treated me to a sour smile. ‘Or should I try taking one of those potions which produce strange and peculiar visions.’

‘Only a dream that comes naturally to the sleeper can possess meaning. The author of the dream book is clear on that,’ I replied meekly.

‘But is it not also true that a person often dreams of people and places known from real life?’

‘That is the case,’ I agreed.

‘You yourself dream.’ It was more a statement than a question.

‘I do, my lord.’

The king gave a short, mirthless laugh.

‘So, if I cannot force myself to have a dream that will reveal the true intentions of these Saracens, I can do the next best thing.’

My heart sank as I realized what he was about to say.

‘I can place a dreamer among them, someone to get to know them so well that they appear in his dreams, and he will learn what they intend.’ He chuckled softly. ‘You might say that I will have an insight into their minds as well as into the future.’ The king shouted for an attendant, and a man appeared instantly at the door. ‘Escort this young man to the chancery. I am attaching him to the mission that returns with the Saracens. They leave in two days’ time.’ Carolus looked down at me from his great height, his face a mask of royal authority. ‘Speak with Alcuin. Tell him why you are going to Hispania. He will give more detailed instructions.’

I bowed and began to walk towards the door.

‘And be sure to take your crippled servant with you,’ the king added. ‘He may overhear some useful information. I’ll tell Bertha you may be absent for some time.’

I left the chamber, stunned. The king must have spies and informants everywhere. It was reasonable to suppose that Gerard had told him that Osric was a Saracen by origin, but I wondered how often the king had stood at the window looking down at my comings and goings to his daughter’s chamber.

*

Alcuin greeted me without enthusiasm when I tracked him down in the chancery. He was deep in conversation with two clerks from the office of records. They were discussing the correct wording for a charter document, and I had to wait until they had finished and moved away before I told him what the king intended for me.

‘So that’s why you asked about the meaning of Oneirokritikon,’ the priest said. ‘If I’d known, I’d not have told you.’

‘I thought it would be a leech book, not a book of dreams,’ I said.

‘The Church does not approve of such writings.’

‘I’m sure that the Oneirokritikon is harmless.’

Alcuin arched his brows in disbelief.

‘Dreams are the raw material of necromancy and superstition. Often the Devil works through them.’

‘Yet an angel of the Lord used a dream to tell Joseph the husband of Mary that her unborn child was conceived by the Holy Spirit,’ I objected.

He drew a sharp breath of displeasure and stepped past me.

‘If you will follow me, I will do my best to carry out the king’s instructions.’