‘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.