The Book of Dreams(94)

At last Osric broke his silence.

‘Each bag contains one hundred pounds weight in silver coin,’ he said. There was no emotion in his voice.

I quickly counted the number of panniers. There were forty of them.

Hroudland bent over the nearest one and plunged both hands into the contents. He held up a double handful of coins and let them trickle through his fingers. They made a rippling, metallic clatter as they landed.

He looked at me.

‘What do you think, Patch?’

I walked across and picked up one of the coins. Clean and shiny, it looked as if it had been minted very recently. Both sides were stamped with lines of Saracen script across the centre and in a circle around the rim. I looked questioningly at Osric.

‘A silver dirhem issued last year by the Emir Abd al Rahman. The coins in the bags were struck by many rulers and come from many places, but all are genuine.’ His voice was still flat and expressionless.

Hroudland moved along the row of panniers, peering into each of them, stirring their contents with his fingers like a grain merchant dabbling in sacks of barley. He beckoned me to stand close to him. Bending close he whispered in my ear, ‘Maybe there is dross deep down beneath the surface.’

Osric could not have overheard but he knew well enough what was said.

‘We can arrange to have the coins weighed out in front of you, bag by bag, if you wish,’ he announced, disdainfully.

‘That will not be necessary,’ I said firmly. Before Hroudland could raise an objection, I muttered to him, ‘It will take far too long to weigh this amount.’

The count turned to face Osric.

‘What about the rest of the payment?’ he demanded.

The wali’s elderly steward walked to the far side of the chamber where a low shapeless mound was covered by a dark cloth. He took hold of the cloth and, with a sudden swish of silk, drew it to one side, revealing what it had concealed.

Despite his attempt to remain aloof, Hroudland sucked in his breath with amazement.

‘By our calculation, this should suffice to cover Karlo’s costs,’ observed Osric icily.

Laid out on the stone floor was a sensational array of valuables. Most were made of silver. There were cups and goblets, plates, ewers, censers, bowls and trays engraved with interlocking geometric patterns. There were belts studded with silver discs, silver scabbards for knives, silver bangles and necklaces, medallions and hanging lamps of silver filigree. A separate much smaller pile was made of similar objects in gold. Several of these were set with coloured stones. These items had been artfully placed so that the beams of sunlight sparkled off polished surfaces or struck a glow of colour in their depths. Without examining them more closely it was impossible to tell which were true jewels and which semiprecious. I supposed the dark reds were rubies and garnet, and here and there was a spark of blue from a stone unknown to me.

Two special items had been arranged on their own, laid out on a square of dark green velvet. Seeing them, I knew instantly that Osric had advised Husayn what would most arouse the greed of any Frankish envoy.

The first item was a glittering crystal salver. Around the rim ran a band of gold as thick as a man’s thumb and inlaid with intricate enamelwork that captured all the colours of the rainbow. I had seen its exact twin on display on Carolus’s high table at a banquet in Aachen. How this second crystal salver had found its way into Zaragoza’s treasury was a mystery. Possibly it had been plundered in the days when the Saracens raided deep into Frankia. What was certain was that Carolus would be delighted to match this crystal salver with the one he already owned.

The other object lying on the velvet cloth was proof that Osric also knew how to appeal to Hroudland’s aristocratic love of lavish display. It was a superb hunting horn, its surface embellished with delicate carvings. Its colour was a lustrous pale yellow, almost white, and I supposed that it was made of ivory. Yet I had never seen ivory of such great size. If I had held it against my arm, the horn would have measured from my elbow to my fingertip. Ivory, as far as I was aware, came from the long teeth in the whiskery mouths of large seal-like creatures far in the north. The size of the monster which had sprouted such a monstrous tooth was difficult to imagine.

Overcome with curiosity I picked up the hunting horn to look at it more closely. The horn was lighter than its size suggested. The carver had hollowed out the interior so that the instrument sounded the note he wanted. The ivory was delightful to the touch, cool and smooth yet not slippery. The mouthpiece and the band around the open end of the horn were both of silver. Wonderingly I turned the horn over in my hand to examine the carvings. They ran almost the full length with an area left clear for the huntsman’s grip. There were hunting scenes, which formed a continuous story along its length. Near the silver mouthpiece a trio of mounted huntsmen were riding among trees. Further along the horn they were attacked by a shaggy cat-like beast. I suspected it to be a lion, though I had never seen one. The creature had leaped on the hindquarters of a hunter’s horse and sunk its claws and teeth in the animal’s hindquarters. In the next scene a hunter had put his arrow into the beast’s chest. The great cat was reared up and arching with pain.