Warlord(76)

Since the attack by the Knights of Our Lady, I had worn my sword wherever I went in Paris; I also had my misericorde at my waist, but wore no mail. Hanno was armed to the teeth, as usual, with a sword, a dagger and a small axe shoved in his belt at the back. With his strong squat body, shaven head and scarred face, he looked the picture of the formidable warrior that he truly was.

We walked towards the Germans, and they fell silent at our approach. ‘I want you to translate everything I say into German, Hanno. I don’t want them to misunderstand me.’

Hanno grunted something, and I said to the table: ‘God be with you on this fine evening,’ and Hanno translated it into German for their benefit.

I continued: ‘These English boys here are friends of mine’ – I waved a hand towards the table of students behind me – ‘and I understand that there has been some unpleasantness between you. And so I would like to buy you all a drink to make amends for any insult that you believe has been offered to you.’

While Hanno translated my words, I pulled out an old scuffed leather purse from my belt and dropped it on the table. The purse was dark brown, worn smooth with the touch of my hands, it was very nearly worthless and contained only a few Parisian pennies, just enough for them to buy a henap or two of wine, perhaps something to eat.

‘I hope that you will accept this gesture of amity, and that this will be the end of any trouble between you and my friends.’ I casually put my hand on my sword hilt, to indicate that if they did not wish to be friends then there were other options. But I also grinned at them in what I hoped was a kindly, avuncular fashion and made sure that I looked every man there squarely in the eye.

Hanno’s translation seemed to be taking rather a long time; he picked up the flaccid leather purse and shook it at the German students – and I saw every one of their faces suddenly blanch. Then he dropped it on the table, uttered another phrase or two, and we both turned our backs on them and returned to the table of our friends.

The German students did not touch the purse of money. They all got up, as one man, and filed out of the tavern without a single word; though a few did give our table oddly fearful glances on their way out of the door.

‘What did you say to them, Hanno?’ I asked.

‘I only say what you told me.’

‘Hanno, what did you really say to them? Come, my friend, please tell me.’

Hanno sighed: ‘I say what you say and I add a bit. Just to make sure they pay attention to you. I tell them that you are an English knight known all across Christendom for his bloodlust and ferocity in battle. I say that it is your custom always to cut off the testicles from your enemies, and to cure the ball bag, the scrotum, in salt and use it as a money purse. Then I told them that this purse, taken from a Saracen in the Holy Land some years ago, is now nearly worn out and you are very much hoping to cut yourself a new one.’

Our laughter was interrupted by the arrival of Master Fulk. With tears in my eyes, I stood to greet the students’ teacher, and it was only when we had found him a place, and settled again and ordered more wine, and sent a boy out to fetch some beef-filled pastries from a nearby cook-house, that I was able to take proper notice of him.

He was a big man in his forties, with battered features and sharp brown eyes below his bald head. His robe was even dirtier than the last time I had met him, and the stench of it as he sat beside me made my eyes water. But, though he may not have been fond of changing his clothing or washing his body, as Matthew had said, there was nothing wrong with his mind.

He engaged the boys almost immediately in a conversation about the true nature of the Bible that dazzled me with its wit and elegance. Master Fulk maintained that the Bible was only part of the scriptures, the most important part for sure, and the part that contained the keys to Salvation, but merely a part of the teachings of God and His only son Jesus Christ. He cited the Gospel of Nicodemus, a book that I had never heard of, though the students all seemed to be conversant with it, and suggested that it should be included in the Bible as it offered an alternative version of the Crucifixion story that was a valuable addition to the lore of the Church. Matthew, typically, took up the opposite position, and claimed that if the Bible already contained the true and full instructions on how to attain Heaven, there was no need for any Gospels other than the four already contained within it. I lost track of the argument on several occasions – and found it again, and lost it once more, and as a result I said nothing, listening quietly in awe as Fulk demonstrated the depth of his learning, and the keenness of his mind. Matthew was drinking too heavily to be a true match in argument for Master Fulk – and after a while the student conceded his position with a laugh, and much jeering from his fellows.