Historical Setting: 793 C.E. Metz
Metz is hardly as I remembered it. There are new walls and towers, and the once mud streets are paved in stones. But musicians still test their songs in the town plaza and probably the commoners still come dancing for the mid-summer celebration. It was a favorite venue for my son, Brandell, the poet, so many generations ago.
Now this village has booths for vendors and craftsmen. The public stables are as I remember, but with more stalls. The stable hand tells me this fellow Odo plans new constructions and he sells his ideas to the rich.
He directs me to Odo’s house. I see here old Greek notions for buildings are remembered. It is created first, not of stone and mud, but in the imagination of a mathematician, as a drawing on parchment. And that seems to be the function of Odo’s workplace where I wait for him. Here is not one stone or chisel, but rulers and inks. The worktable is spread with parchment. The book stand is overflowing with ledgers and maps. And here is Odo in a builder’s leather apron, but a demeanor clothed in the finery of a nobleman.
“I have a letter for Alcuin from Bishop Higbald.”
“Alcuin, the scholar for the King?”
“I was told you would know where the king has his court in these times.”
“Yes, but Alcuin is the teacher for the King’s children. So, he isn’t traveling with King Charles at this time. The children are at Marmoutier Abbey.”
“Thank you, this is very helpful.”
“That is near Tours on the Loire…” [Footnote]
I knew that. I used to live near there also.
“So, you would go all the way to Tours, just to deliver a letter?”
“I find that travel a blessing.”
I go on my way, passed the Waldelanus castle fields, where my son-in-law was a serf along with Layla and their children. There are standard shelters for serfs now. But here the burial place for all those who worked the fields has only nameless rocks left in places by loved ones. Even in death serfs are nameless. I travel on, and tonight I will stay at Luxeuil.
The monastery is the same as always. The guest rooms are unassigned monk’s cells. Brandell’s artwork isn’t in perfect condition, but it is still here, at the healing pools. And I find the grave of my son Gabe, marked only with a carving of a dove. That suits him well.
[Footnote]plodding through history, this blogger finally has come to an era when actual details of names and places were recorded and still available for us to find. So, Wikipedia searches found Alcuin at Marmoutier, and Odo of Metz in the record, and the route of this journey didn’t have to be contrived as fiction. Bishop Higbald’s message was sent, but finding no record of the messenger who carried it – Lazarus’s part in this is still fictional.
(Continues Tuesday, August 5, 2025)
Lazarus Ink 