Eifelheim

They discussed the ‘calculators’ at Merton and the death of Abbot Richard of Wallingford, who had invented a new “triangular” geometry and an instrument, the rectangulus, much favored by navigators. “And to speak of navigators,” Dietrich added, “the Spanish have discovered new islands in the Ocean Sea.” He had the tale from Tarkhan, who had it in turn from his master’s agents. “They lie off the coast of Africa, and boast great flocks of canaries. So it may be that a ‘new way’ across Ocean may be found, leading to the ‘oversea lands’ on Bacon’s map.”

“One may more easily explain Bacon’s Land by a cartographer’s imagination and the lure of blank spaces.” Ockham smiled and added, “Much as your rustic woodcarvers here have filled in the walls of your church with giant grasshoppers and the like.”

Joachim had a slice of pumpernickel in his mouth and nearly choked until Dietrich had helped him to swallow some ale to help it down. Ockham rose, saying, “I’ll fetch more ale from the kitchen.” But Joachim gasped, “No, there waits also a giant grasshopper.”

Unsure of the jest, Ockham barked puzzled laughter.

XIX. June, 1349

At Nones, The Commemoration of Bernard of Menthon

Manfred styled his banquet “a symposium,” and promised a quodlibet between Dietrich and Ockham as the post-prandial entertainment. But as some entertainments were not to everyone’s taste, this did not supplant Peter’s singing or the dwarf’s acrobatics or the juggler’s display of plates and knives. The dwarf’s trained dog drew but a pursed lip from Will Ockham; but Kunigund and Eugen laughed hugely, especially when the dog tugged the dwarf’s hose down to reveal his bare ass. Einhardt, like Manfred, paid more particular attention to the singing. “Einhardt has held me ill,” Manfred had confided earlier to Dietrich, “for missing the bohorts, so this is my peace to him.” Dietrich, having verified the knight’s famous stink, gave thanks that his corpulent wife, Lady Rosamund, sat between them.

The sideboard was laden with game birds and aged venison, and continually refreshed by a never-ceasing bustle of servants bearing platters, retrieving empty trenchers, and spreading on the floor fresh rushes mixed with flowers to surrender their scents when stepped upon. Behind each seat a page awaited the diner’s every need. Tarkhan ben Bek, brushed and combed into respectability, did service for his master, for Malachai’s rites did not permit him to eat of Manfred’s bounty, but only of his own provisions, prepared under his supervision. Normally, two of Manfred’s hounds would prowl the room, scavenging scraps that fell from the table; but, from respect for the Jew’s sensibilities, the animals had been barred from the feast. Their piteous howling could be heard faintly from the ke

Eugen sat at Manfred’s right and Kunigund, his left. Beside them were Dietrich and Will, with Malachai the Jew to Will’s right. Malachai’s wife and daughter remained in seclusion, disappointing Eugen, who had anticipated the exotic sight of veiled women. Lady Rosamund was hardly compensation.

To Einhardt’s left, at the table’s foot sat Thierry von Hinterwaldkopf. The knight had already delivered his required service-days, but Manfred hoped to induce him to serve additional days from love to help hunt the outlaws.

In the corner beside the fireplace, Peter Mi

“Not that horrid French tale!” Einhardt complained.

“No, lord knight.” Peter draped his hair and settled the lute upon his lap. “I would sing Wolfam von Eschenbach’s version, which all men know is the noblest rendition of the story.”

Manfred waved a hand. “Something less weighty,” he said. “Something touching love. Play Falcon Song.” A devotee of the New Art, Peter oft complained of Manfred’s fondness for the old-fashioned mi

Listening, Dietrich marveled at how God could appear in sudden and unexpected places, for Falcon Song had given him God’s answer to the problem of Ilse and Gerd. It mattered not that Ilse had been baptized and Gerd had not, for God would bring lovers together.

And more than lovers. Had Dietrich not raised Theresia as he’d have her be? Had she not “flown to other lands”? Had he not seen her since, “gracefully flying”? Surely, God would bring them together once again. A tear wound its way down his cheek and Kunigund, ever attentive to those about her, noticed, and placed her hand on his.

Afterward, amid the clatter of silverware and krautstrunks, table-talk settled on matters of the world. The House of Bardi had followed the House of Peruzzi into insolvency, Ockham told them, and Malachai added that silver had become scare. “It is all going East, to the Sultan to pay for silk and spices.”

Dietrich said, “In his tractate on money, that mine Herr gave me, young Oresme wrote that money can be understood just as the rainbow or magnetism. He states that, ‘If the prince sets a ratio on the coins that differs from the values of silver to gold in the market, the underrated coin will vanish from circulation, and the overrated alone remains current.’”

“A philosophy of money?” said Ockham.

“Silver does buy more gold in the East,” Malachai said, tugging his beard.

“So it ‘flies to others lands!’” laughed Kunigund.

“May God not keep silver asunder from those who love it,” added Thierry with a sly glance at the Jew.

“Bah!” said Einhardt. “Then the prince merely fixes the prices of silver and gold in the market to match the values he sets on the coin.”

“Perhaps not,” Dietrich replied. “Jean Olivi argued that a thing’s price derives from the assessments of those who seek to buy it — regardless what merchants demand or princes decree or however much labor went into its making.”

Ockham laughed. “It’s Buridan’s wicked influence. Oresme is his pupil, as was Brother Angelus, here.” He nodded to Dietrich. “And another from Saxony, called ‘Little Albert,’ is already much talked of. Ah, Dietl, you should have stayed at Paris. They would speak of you in the same way.”

“I leave fame for others,” Dietrich answered curtly.

When talk turned later to politics, Ockham recounted the infamous progress of the Wittelsbach court through Italy twenty years before, when they had burned the Pope in effigy. “After all,” he said, “what say has a Frenchman in the election of the Roman Kaiser?”

“Sauwohl!” said Einhardt, saluting with his cup.

“I had thought to use this as the topic for the disputation,” said Manfred, gesturing with a haunch of venison for the wine to be poured. “Tell us your arguments, Brother Ockham, if they are not merely that you ate at Ludwig’s table?”