Chapter Nine
ALMOST AS QUICKLY AS it had arrived, the flood departed. Had I not seen it for myself I would never have believed that a river could switch so rapidly from untamed ferocity to placid calm.
‘Rivers are like those serpents that swallow a deer or calf entire,’ Abram explained to me. It was two days later and our little flotilla was gliding between banks thick with willow and poplar. In bright morning sunshine the swallows swooped and scythed over the silk-smooth, shimmering surface of the river, snatching up insects. Where the river divided around large islands it isolated patches of untouched wilderness, and the undergrowth along the bank teemed with wildlife. There were glimpses of otters, and startlingly bright blue streaks as kingfishers launched from low-hanging branches and sped away. All manner of small water creatures swam across our path, drawing out their telltale ripples.
‘The prey becomes a bulge inside the serpent,’ the dragoman explained. ‘The bulge passes along the serpent’s length as the beast digests. The crest of a flood is the same. It enters the head of the river and travels down its valley, swelling then subsiding.’
‘It’s difficult to imagine a creature so gross,’ I said. The current was carrying us along at a rapid walking pace, and the boatmen only had to use their oars occasionally to keep us on course. The drama of the bridge seemed like a distant memory.
He laughed. ‘When we get to Rome I’ll show you a picture of Adam and Eve being expelled from Paradise. I think the artist had the same serpent in mind.’
‘What else can I expect to see when we get to Rome?’
The banter left his voice. ‘More important is what you don’t see.’
‘You sound like Alcuin.’
The dragoman was serious. ‘In Rome the serpents don’t swallow their victims. They strike with poisoned fangs. The city is a snake pit of intrigue, conspiracies and plots. Everyone is waiting for Pope Adrian to die and then . . .’ He shrugged expressively.
I recalled Alcuin’s warning that the pope was very old, and that no one knew who would replace him. ‘And what sort of man is Pope Adrian?’ I asked.
The dragoman shook a small purse out from his sleeve. The movement was so deft that I blinked in surprise. He noted my reaction and grinned. ‘In my profession a discreet coin dropped quickly into a ready palm solves many a problem.’
He took a coin from the purse and passed it to me. ‘Here’s Pope Adrian for you.’
The portrait on the papal coin was very stylized: a man’s head and shoulders, shown full face, the eyes staring boldly forward under some sort of cap or crown. Oddly, the upper lip of the face wore what looked like a short, trim moustache. Around the edge was written ‘HADRIANUS P P’ in raised letters.
‘I presume that “P P” is short for “Pope”,’ I said.
Abram chuckled. ‘In Rome the joke is that it means “in perpetuity”. Pope Adrian is as hardy and tough as they come. He’s already sat on Peter’s throne for close on two decades, longer than anyone before him.’
I handed back the coin. ‘If you remember, Alcuin gave me an introduction to the man who works for the pope as his Nomenculator. His name is Paul.’
‘A very useful contact. By the time we arrive in Rome, we won’t find any ship captain prepared to take us onward from Italy until next sailing season in spring. I strongly advise that we spend the winter in the city. The Nomenculator can help us find suitable accommodation. His office gives him considerable influence.’
I should have been disappointed by the thought of the long interruption to our journey. But the prospect of spending several months in Rome and seeing its fabled sights was something I looked forward to.
Abram’s next words dampened my enthusiasm. ‘Don’t expect too much of the city itself. The place has been falling to pieces for centuries. It’s a wreck.’ He got to his feet. ‘By contrast you’ll find that travelling through Burgundy by water is a pleasure.’
*
The next ten days proved how right he was. We came to a region where mile after mile of vineyards extended up the flanks of the hills that overlooked the valley. It was the season for the grape harvest, and the farmworkers – men and women – toiled in the warm sunshine among the rich greens and browns of the vines, stooping to cut the fruit, then carrying it in wicker baskets to waiting carts. Most of the crop was then tipped into huge open-topped wooden casks set up close to the river landing places. Here barefoot men were trampling the grapes until the juice ran off into barrels that were then rolled onto waiting barges. More families were on ladders in the orchards, plucking plums and peaches, quince and mulberry, while their more agile children clambered into the branches to shake down the ripe fruit. Amid such bounty it was easy to obtain the supplies we needed for the animals. Every riverside town had its own market where Abram’s servants purchased all we required, and we discovered that the ice bears were as happy to eat fresh rabbit as well as catfish and trout. Well fed, the animals settled down. The dogs were much calmer, and the ice bears spent much of each day asleep. By day, Walo took the thick cloths off the cages of the gyrfalcons so that the birds could preen and bask in the sunshine, and then covered them over for the night. By now he had them so well trained that, even from the moving boat, he could exercise them. One by one, he would let them fly free and, after a little while, bring them back to his hand holding out a titbit of fresh meat. Only the aurochs remained sulky and dangerous. It rolled its eyes if anyone came near, and thrust and battered with its great horns against the sides of the enclosure.