Men and animals thrived. Walo made wicker cages for the falcons. By day they were hung from a framework on one of the carts. At night he covered the cages with dark cloths. His training of them progressed so well that whenever we stopped, he could fly them off his hand and let them fly free for exercise before attracting them back with a morsel of fresh meat. He also fitted the five white dogs with collars and each animal was attached by its lead to a different vehicle so it, too, was properly exercised. In the evening after they had been fed, they were tied to stakes placed just far enough apart so they could not fight. The aurochs remained as truculent as ever, attempting to attack anyone who came close to its cage. It was extremely dangerous to feed and water the beast, and clear out its vast piles of dung. But the job had to be done.
Most of all, Walo concentrated on tending to his beloved bears. Try as I might, I still found it difficult to identify which was Madi and which was Modi. To me they looked alike and I saw no difference in their behaviour. Fortunately, they adapted to the summer heat. They kept their appetites and, with shade and water within their cage, they showed no sign of distress. Walo fed and brushed them, played them tunes on his wooden pipe until they laid their heads on their paws and slept for hour after hour.
I envied them. Despite the idyllic conditions I was plagued by disturbing dreams. In the four weeks it took us to make our ponderous way across country to the Rhone, there was scarcely a night when I did not wake up in the darkness, my heart pounding, covered in sweat. Occasionally, I was shouting in panic. My nightmares always concerned an elephant. Sometimes I was riding on its back, high above the ground, feeling the creature sway beneath me as we moved across a depressing, broken landscape of grey rocks and harsh mountains. The motion made me feel giddy and I would wake up nauseous. In other dreams I was on the ground and the elephant was deliberately trying to trample me. I would turn and run for my life, pursued by the monstrous, enraged beast.
My nightmares often woke Osric and Walo, who shared a tent with me. Neither of them said anything until one evening shortly before we reached the Rhone. We had completed our day’s journey a little earlier than usual. Our road lay through an extensive forest of oak and beech and we had come upon a broad clearing where a spring of clean water had been channelled into a pool lined with stone slabs. Charred marks of campfires showed that previous travellers had rested there before us. Very soon our waggons and carts were drawn up in a neat line, the draught oxen unyoked, and all our animals had been taken care of. There were several hours of daylight left, so we were relaxing in the last rays of sunshine before the shadows from the surrounding trees spread across the clearing. All traffic along the road had ceased, and the place was so quiet that I could hear the low mutter of the ox drivers talking among themselves as they prepared to spread their bedding rolls beneath the carts. Even the white dogs had fallen silent.
‘I think I’ll sleep under the stars tonight,’ Osric commented, treating me to a meaningful glance. He, Walo and I were sitting by the embers of the campfire. We had finished our supper and Abram, who preferred to take his meals with his own men, had just rejoined us.
‘I’m the one who should sleep outside,’ I said. ‘There’s not much I can do about those dreams.’
‘What dreams are those?’ Abram asked.
I told him briefly about the elephant.
The dragoman smiled apologetically. ‘That was my fault. I shouldn’t have brought up the subject of Hannibal and his elephants.’
‘What’s an elephant?’ interrupted Walo. He had been listening in.
‘An elephant is a remarkable animal that the great ruler of the Saracens sent as a gift to Carolus,’ I told him.
Walo’s voice had been hesitant but his half-closed eyes were bright with interest.
‘Some say that it is the largest animal that walks on land,’ I added.
‘Even larger than that one there?’ Walo gestured towards the aurochs in its cage.
‘Yes, much, much larger.’
‘What does it look like?’
I started to explain what I knew about an elephant, its size and shape, but my words soon petered out. I had never seen the living animal and, for me, everything was hearsay. Abram was looking on with an amused expression.
‘Our dragoman can explain better than me,’ I was forced to admit.
Abraham chuckled. ‘I doubt I could paint a word picture that would do justice to the strangeness of the elephant. For a start, its nose reaches to the ground and can be used as an extra hand.’
‘You’re making fun of me,’ Walo said. He sounded hurt.