CHAPTER 2 – ON THE ROAD TO EDEN
Western Europe after the splitting of the empire of Charlemagne between his three sons in 843.
14:03 (Rome Time)
Tuesday, January 3, 862 C.E.
Via Appia (old Roman imperial road), 132 kilometer southeast of Rome
Principality of Benevento, Italian peninsula
The group of seven men, women and teenagers walking along the old Roman road while pulling a small, rickety cart loaded with their baggage and supplies, formed a rather heteroclite band, with some of them wearing cheap but colorful clothes and with a young teenage boy playing a flute while walking next to the group’s cart. The man pulling the cart, who was obviously the oldest member of the group and who appeared to be in his early thirties, was a tall, strongly-built man with blond hair and blue eyes somewhat atypical of the local Southern Italy natives, for the good reason that he was not a local native. He had been born in a village near Regensburg, in Bavaria, which was part of the Kingdom of King Louis the German, one of the three sons of deceased Emperor Charlemagne. Karl had left his native village a long time ago, sixteen years ago to be exact, fleeing it with his beloved wife Greta, whom he had married against the wishes of his father, a poor farmer who had wanted to marry him to the daughter of a more prosperous man. He and Greta had then lived as wanderers, playing musical instruments, singing and dancing in public squares in order to collect some money and survive. At first, the living had been tough and meager but, with traveling entertainers like them being about the only kind of entertainment available to the people of the time, be they peasants, bourgeois or nobles, and with Karl’s and Greta’s skills improving with practice, they had managed to survive reasonably well while traveling from place to place along the routes and trails of Europe. On the way, Karl and Greta had two sons, fourteen-year-old Eric and ten-year-old Cedrik, plus one daughter, thirteen-year-old Ingrid. Along their route, they had also been joined by Judith, a Hungarian Jew who was now 22 years old and who had been saved from Church persecution by Karl and Greta, and by Markus, a young man from a small village near Ancona, in the Duchy of Spoleto, who had fled his abusive family. The progressively larger troupe had continued its endless trek, going down the eastern coast of the Italian peninsula after crossing the Italian Alps via the Brenner Pass, then reversing course along the western coast once at the bottom of the Italian boot. Now, the troupe was heading towards Rome, where they hoped to make good money by entertaining rich nobles and merchants.
Karl’s troupe was advancing along a portion of road flanked on both sides by plantations of olive trees when young Eric suddenly shouted out loud while pointing excitedly at the sky above them.
‘’LOOK, ABOVE US! SOMETHING IS FLYING VERY FAST!’’
The whole group stopped at once and craned their necks, looking up and following with their disbelieving eyes some kind of large, round object speeding silently by at high altitude while creating a white condensation trail. Greta signed herself as she looked at the impossible sight.
‘’Dear Mother of God! What could that be?’’
‘’I frankly don’t have a clue about that, Greta.’’ replied her husband Karl. ‘’However, it doesn’t appear to be some kind of flying animal: its round shape is too regular and it doesn’t have wings.’’
‘’Could it be a manifestation from God…or from the Devil?’’ asked hesitantly young Ingrid. Karl took some time before answering her while continuing to follow the flying ball as it sped away towards the East.
‘’I just don’t know, Ingrid. It looked like a ship sailing by, if I would have to compare it to something. However, it is now gone and we still have some way to go before arriving in Gaeta, so let’s resume our trip.’’
They barely had time to travel another 600 meters along the old paved road when the sound of approaching cavalrymen coming from the direction of Naples made them stop and turn around, alarm filling them: too many times, men on horses meant either soldiers on the move or some noble and his escort ready to sweep them off the road in order to continue at speed. What Karl saw made him tense up at once: nine armed men were riding towards them, dressed like members of some noble family’s retinue.
‘’Quick, let’s get off the road to let those men pass!’’ ordered urgently Karl to his troupe. They just had time to do so before the riders came to their level. However, instead of galloping past them, the riders stopped next to the troupe, with the leading cavalryman asking a question in a harsh tone to Karl, using Neapolitan.
‘’YOU! HAVE YOU SEEN A TEENAGE ARAB GIRL LATELY?’’
‘’Uh, no, Sire!’’ replied Karl, telling the truth. ‘’Is she wanted for some crime?’’
‘’SHE SURE IS! THAT AÏSHA IS AN ESCAPED SLAVE GIRL WHO MURDERED HER OWNER. IF YOU FIND HER AND RETURN HER TO NAPLES, THERE WILL BE A GOOD REWARD FOR YOU.’’
‘’Then, I will keep an eye for such a girl, Sire.’’
‘’DO THAT! FORWARD, MEN!’’
Karl, like his family and troupe members, let out a sigh of relief as the riders continued northward on the road. Greta waited until the riders were way too far to hear her before speaking to her husband.
‘’Whatever reason that Arab girl had to kill her owner, I can’t blame her for it, Karl: slavery is an insult to God.’’
‘’I agree with you, Greta, but there is nothing we can do about that cruel institution. Only the Pope could possibly have the power to ban that practice. However, I am not going to hold my breath for that to happen. The Church has already proved too often that it is the first to violate Jesus’ commandment to be kind and tolerant towards others.’’
Judith, whose family had been burned at the stake as heretics by the Church in her village south of Salzburg, could only nod her head at that. Karl then had 18-year-old Markus replace him at pulling the group’s cart before they resumed their trip.
17:41 (Rome Time)
Via Appia, 128 kilometers southeast of Rome
Making first Markus and the cart stop, Karl looked up at the Sun, now quite low on the western horizon, then looked around him at the woods flanking both sides of the old road. Seeing a small stream running parallel to the road at some distance and visible through the trees, he pointed it to the members of his troupe.
‘’We won’t get to Gaeta before nightfall: this old road’s pitiful state slowed us down too much. Let’s get our cart off the road and go towards that stream. We will then establish our camp for the night near the stream, where we will be able to get some fresh water. Follow me, Markus!’’
‘’You would think that those damn aristocrats and Church leaders would have collected enough money with their crushing taxes to at least pay for some road maintenance, hey?’’ said Markus while pulling the cart off the road to follow Karl between the dispersed trees. That attracted a snicker from Greta.
‘’You are dreaming, right? Those fat nobles, spending their precious gold on something else than their banquets, palaces and various luxuries? They don’t give a damn about us little people and never will.’’
‘’But Churchmen must care more for us than the nobles, no?’’ asked 10-year-old Cedrik to his mother Greta, getting a shake of the head in response.
‘’The only difference between Church leaders and nobles is that the Church leaders are fatter, Cedrik. They make their pious prayers and speeches only to get more money from us during masses. I will however concede that monks, who have made vows of poverty, tend to care more about others, but that’s about all. Once we are in Rome, you will be able to see how ‘poor’ the Church is.’’
Making Markus stop the cart a few paces from the stream, next to a tree, Karl waved at a small clearing surrounded by trees.
‘’This looks like a fine spot for our camp. Erik, Ingrid and Cedrik, you go collect deadwood for our fire. Greta, collect loose stones to build our campfire while me, Markus and Judith erect our tents. And don’t I see anybody pee in the stream! I want that water to stay fresh.’’
That made Ingrid giggle before she went off through the woods to collect dead branches for their fire, accompanied by her two brothers. Out of the experience from long practice, the group took less than half an hour to build their camp, with their two tents and light cart surrounding a small fire contained within a circle of stones. Thankfully, while the darkening sky was covered with clouds, no rain fell. However, the heat from the fire was most welcome in fighting off the cold air of January. Having earned little money lately from singing, dancing and playing music in public, the only food available for supper that night was some bread and cheese, which the group ate mostly in silence. While eating his bread, Karl thought about what his troupe could expect once in Rome. As one of the richest cities in the region, they could reasonably hope to earn some fair amount of money there by playing in the various squares of the city and in the homes of nobles and rich merchants. Maybe they would be able to earn enough to finally be able to buy some new clothes and, particularly, new shoes, to replace the well-worn and holed ones they presently wore. However, as hard and uncertain that their life as a traveling entertainers’ group was, Karl did not regret the choices he had made in the past, starting with fleeing his native village near Regensburg, in Bavaria. He may be a poor man, but at least he was a free man. The same could be said of Greta, Judith and Markus, who also had fled their original homes to escape either abuse or persecution. His sixteen years on the road, from his native Bavaria, across the Italian Alps and down the Italian Peninsula, had shown him that the vast majority of the people he had seen and met was about as poor as him and his troupe, with peasants and farmers often indentured to their farms and enduring heavy taxes, while a tiny minority of nobles, churchmen and rich merchants profited from their people and lived in luxury, eating to their content. Karl then couldn’t help feel some discouragement as he contemplated his long-term prospects. What he was most worried about was the future of his three children. He was still healthy, thank God for that but, at the age of 32, he was already well advanced into the kind of life expectancy he could hope for. Greta’s future was even more uncertain, as any new pregnancy for her could well mean her death in labor, a fate that struck too many women in all the countries they had traveled through. Once he and Greta would be dead, then their three children would have to survive and grow on their own, with little or no assistance from others, especially not from those selfish nobles. If any of them fell sick, then the most they could hope for was a place in some Church-run hospice, while it was more likely that they would simply die or starve because they couldn’t entertain others anymore. The troupe’s future prospects would also grow gloomier as they progressed northward, reaching colder regions where Winter would mean more misery for all of them.
Karl was still in his morose thoughts when an alarmed shout from his son Erik suddenly made him stiffen.
‘’HEY, SOMETHING MOVED OVER THERE, IN THE WOODS.’’
Grabbing at once the javelin he had put beside him on the grass, then jumping on his feet, Karl scanned the dark forest in the direction indicated by his son, while the rest of the group grabbed whatever weapon they had, be they knives, improvised clubs or small stones. Cautiously advancing with his javelin pointed forward, Karl walked slowly towards the bushes indicated by his son Erik while shouting in Neapolitan.
‘’WHOEVER YOU ARE, COME OUT IN THE OPEN!’’
Still not sure if what Erik had seen was a person or simply an animal, like a boar or a dear, Karl stopped some five paces from a bush whose leaves had just shaken. After a few tense seconds, a small human shape stepped out in the open, facing Karl with both hands raised to face level. That shape proved to be a young teenage girl with brown skin wearing a simple short white tunic. She was also barefoot. Karl was then able to guess rather easily who she was and spoke again in Neapolitan.
‘’Is your name Aïsha?’’
The girl nodded her head slightly before speaking, also in Neapolitan.
‘’Yes! How do you know my name?’’
‘’Riders from Naples looking for you told us that a slave girl was on the run after killing her master. Is it true that you killed your master?’’
The teenager, who was quite beautiful and appeared of Arabic blood, answered him in a nearly defiant tone.
‘’Yes, I did! The fat bastard wanted to rape me and I was able to grab a dagger and stab him as he lay over me. I do not regret killing him. Are you going to hand me over to his family?’’
Karl did not reply to that question immediately, his mind racing through the possible repercussions of this encounter. If he did return to Naples and handed her to the family of her master, he would probably be rewarded with a fair sum of money, money that his family and troupe could certainly use to survive and continue their road trip. If he sheltered her, then he would put himself and his whole family at risk if someone recognized her in the next few days, in which case he would be accused of harboring a fugitive slave and murderer. One last option to him would be to chase her away and forget that they had met, which was a fairly safe option. Karl then detailed more carefully the girl, noting how thin she was: like many slaves he had seen in the past, she had probably been kept close to starvation while being worked hard and being beaten from time to time. That last point finally decided him and he lowered his javelin’s tip while speaking in a soft tone to the girl.
‘’Are you hungry, girl?’’
Seeing her nod her head, he then pointed his family’s campfire to her.
‘’Then, come sit near our fire, Aïsha. We don’t have much but we have some bread and cheese.’’
‘’Thank you!’’
As she followed him back to the campfire, Karl motioned to his family and companions to lower or let go their weapons.
‘’Calm down: we will offer her hospitality for tonight.’’
‘’But we risk a lot if found with her, Karl.’’ objected at once Markus, who was still holding on to his camp knife. ‘’Those riders who passed us earlier on will most certainly have alerted the people in Gaeta about that girl. If we are seen with her there, we could all be hanged for harboring a fugitive slave and murderer.’’
‘’And what did we do when we first met you near Ancona, two years ago? Did we return you to your abusive family? Did we refuse to help you?’’
Markus, a rather short and thin young man, hesitated, then sheeted back his knife while lowering his head.
‘’No! You are right, Karl. But what will we do with her? She still could be recognized in Gaeta when we will arrive there tomorrow.’’
‘’I don’t know yet, Markus. At least, let’s give her some food and shelter for the night, then we will see.’’
Greta, smiling gently to the girl, showed her a place next to their campfire.
‘’Come and sit here, Aïsha. I will get some bread, cheese and water for you.’’
‘’Thank you! You are really kind people, to help me like this despite of the risks. Are you pilgrims going to Rome?’’
‘’No! We are traveling musicians and entertainers and we have been on the road for years, stopping in villages and towns and playing to earn enough money to survive. My name is Greta and this is my husband Karl. The young man there is Markus and this is Judith, a Jewish girl whom we saved from Church persecution in Carinthia{1}, when she was only eight-years-old. We have two sons, Erik and Cedrik, and a daughter, Ingrid. Me and Karl originally came from Bavaria, quite far from here to the North. How about you? Where were you from?’’
‘’I am from Sicily, but the boat transporting my family and me sank and I was then captured and enslaved by passing Neapolitan fishermen, who then sold me to the owner I killed. I was eleven at that time.’’
‘’Reduced to slavery at eleven…what a cruel fate!’’
Greta then hesitated before continuing.
‘’You said that you were from Sicily. Are you a Saracen{2}?’’
‘’Yes, I am! My ex-master often beat me up to force me to renounce Islam but I resisted him.’’
That confession attracted a frown on Markus’ face, who had just sat back next to the campfire.
‘’A Muslim girl? That could aggravate our case if we are caught with her.’’
‘’And helping a Jewish girl like Judith did not put us at risk, Markus?’’ replied Greta, her voice hardening. ‘’Stop worrying about yourself and show some true Christian charity and compassion towards other unfortunate people, Markus.’’
That seemed to chastise into silence the young Lombard man, who clamed up and resumed his eating as Greta fetched some bread and cheese for Aïsha, along with a cup of water.
After they all finished their meager, frugal meal, Greta borrowed an old robe that had belonged to her daughter Ingrid, who had since outgrown it, and accompanied Aïsha to the nearby stream, so that she could wash and change out of her slave’s tunic, which could betray her to the people of Gaeta. As she was about to slip her tunic off over her head, the teenage girl handed her a dagger she had been hiding at her belt.
‘’This is what I used to kill my master. I suppose that it could attract trouble on me…and you, if someone found it.’’
Greta, taking the dagger offered by Aïsha, examined it for a few seconds: it was a high-quality blade and had obviously belonged to a rich person. It also was smeared with blood. Greta then threw out the dagger into the woods, as far as she could, then looked down at the girl, who was a good half-head shorter than her.
‘’You were right: it could have brought us only trouble. Now, let’s clean you up.’’
Using a sponge dipped repeatedly into the stream, Greta rubbed it over Aïsha’s young body, removing the grime and sweat covering it. She then used her old slave’s tunic to dry her before slipping Ingrid’s old dress over her head. In these hard times, and with the stiff price of new clothes, one used old clothes to the maximum and also kept them in case a new child would one day wear it. Unfortunately, they had no spare shoes for this new girl: all the shoes worn by the troupe members were already well-worn and often sported holes. Once Aïsha was dressed, Greta crouched in front of her and smiled to her.
‘’As I said earlier, we are a group of traveling musicians and entertainers. If you are to stay with us, you might as well join our troupe and learn a skill. Do you know how to play an instrument, or sing or dance?’’
‘’I am good at dancing, something I liked doing.’’
‘’Excellent! About our visit to Gaeta tomorrow, don’t worry: we will find a way to keep you safe. By the way, which language can you speak apart from Neapolitan?’’
‘’My native language is the Arabic dialect spoken in Sicily. I learned Neapolitan during my two years as a slave in Naples. And you, Greta?’’
‘’Me? I was fifteen when I fled my Bavarian village with Karl and have been traveling ever since. As a result, apart from my native Alaman, I learned Hungarian, Lombard and Neapolitan, plus know some Latin. My husband Karl also speaks the same languages as me. Uh, do you mind if I asked you a very personal question?’’
‘’What question?’’
‘’While a slave, did men ever take you?’’
The teenager lowered her head at that and nodded once.
‘’The fishermen who retrieved me from the sea after my boat sank took turns on me before selling me off into slavery.’’
Greta couldn’t help flinch on hearing that: to be gang-raped at the age of eleven! She could only imagine the kind of cruelty and abuse the poor girl had to go through. That however only reinforced Greta’s resolve to act like a true, kind and compassionate Christian, contrary to what too many hypocritical Christians she had met behaved. Getting back up, she gently took the hand of the Arab teenager and led her back towards the camp.
‘’You will sleep in the women’s tent tonight, Aïsha, so don’t worry about being abused again.’’
07:09 (Rome Time)
Wednesday, January 4, 862 C.E.
Via Appia, 128 kilometers southeast of Rome
‘’COME ON, PEOPLE! TIME TO HIT THE ROAD AGAIN!’’
Spurred by Karl’s shouted commands, the members of his troupe quickly packed away their tents and utensils and loaded them on their tiny cart. Unsure what to do, Aïsha went to Karl, who dominated her by a good head.
‘’What do I do now, Karl? Are you going to hide me?’’
Karl gave her a gentle smile while brushing her long black hair with one hand.
‘’First, your name is now Maria and you are a Neapolitan dancer I hired as part of my troupe a month ago, while in Naples. You will do your best not to react if someone calls out your real name, possibly as a test of your identity. Second, you will hide in our cart until we are inside Gaeta, so that the riders we met yesterday won’t see you on their way back to Naples. Third, when facing other people, look and act as if you are a half-dumb girl, so that it would excuse your less than perfect Neapolitan. If you are recognized in Gaeta or elsewhere during our trip, then we could all be killed, so take your roleplaying seriously from now on. Do you understand me, Maria?’’
‘’Yes! Thank you for helping me like this.’’
‘’Thank me by being a great dancer and helping us earn plenty of money while we do our shows. Now, get inside that big bundle containing our tents and move as little as possible. If you need to relieve yourself, then you better do it now, before we start rolling.’’
‘’Then, give me a minute, Karl!’’
As the teenage girl started running into the trees, Karl suddenly called her up.
‘’AÏSHA!’’
The girl stopped and turned around, then realized her mistake on seeing the sarcastic look on Karl’s face.
‘’Oh! You mean ‘Maria’?’’
‘’Exactly! Now, go but be more careful from now on. Our lives will depend on that.’’
After about two minutes, the girl came back at a run, with Karl nodding his head.
‘’That was indeed fast, Aïsha.’’
‘’Who?’’ replied the Arab girl, looking confused and making Karl grin.
‘’That’s better! Climb in and stay as still and mum as you can until I say so. We should arrive in Gaeta at around noon.’’
Once Aïsha was hidden on the cart, Karl went to its pulling bar and started moving it out of the woods and onto the old Via Appia, with the rest of the troupe walking alongside or behind it. It wasn’t long before they started passing by other travelers, either merchants driving donkey or ox-drawn carts or chariots or pilgrims going to or returning from Rome.
The troupe had been traveling for about one hour when Karl stiffened and gave a warning to Aïsha.
‘’Be still, Maria! The riders who were looking for you yesterday are now approaching, coming from Gaeta, where they probably gave the alert about you. Whatever happens in the next few minutes, don’t speak and don’t move.’’
With the whole troupe now on alert, Karl noticed that they were not the only travelers crossing path with the riders to act with sudden caution by keeping their distances: aristocratic messengers and guards like them were known for their often arrogant attitudes and brutal ways. Thankfully, the riders simply trotted by him and his cart without even one look and continued south on the road, allowing Karl to breathe in relief once they were out of sight.
‘’Phew! Thank God that they were not more suspicious.’’
Raising a corner of the big bundle in which their two tents were wrapped, he spoke in a low voice to Aïsha.
‘’Those riders from Naples I met yesterday on the road just passed again, going back to Naples. I believe that it can be safe for you to come out by discreetly sliding back and then walk next to the rear of the cart. However, be ready to hide back on the cart the moment I tell you to.’’
‘’Okay!’’ replied the teenage girl before sliding out of her hiding place, ending one pace behind the cart and with a long scarf wrapped around her head and hiding the lower half of her face. Karl then pulled his cart back on the road, which he had left to let the horsemen pass, and resumed his trip to Gaeta.
Some three hours later, as the town of Gaeta was becoming visible in the distance, sitting on the slopes of a hill crowned by a castle, a huge shape suddenly sped by at low altitude, flying roughly from North to South. The troupe, like a merchant driving a heavily loaded chariot crossing paths with it at the time, was both stunned and terrified by the fleeting flyby, which was accompanied by a noise similar to that of a strong rush of wind. Before they could ask each other what that had been, a second similar giant object sped over them, following the first one. Greta, following with her eyes the two extremely fast flying objects as they disappeared in the southern sky, put one hand on her furiously beating heart.
‘’DEAR MOTHER OF GOD! WHAT WAS THAT?’’
While Karl and the others could not answer her question, the merchant they had been level with on the road at that time spoke up, looking enthusiastic rather than scared.
‘’Those, my good woman, were two of the flying ships of the people from the future.’’
‘’The people from the future? What the hell are you talking about, man?’’ asked Karl, completely flustered. In turn, the merchant, who had a teenage boy sitting next to him in his chariot, looked at him with some surprise.
‘’What? You never heard about the people from the future? In which hole have you been in during the last couple of months?’’
‘’Uh, in and around Naples and Salerno.’’ answered Karl, making the merchant smile.
‘’Those are holes alright! Big holes but still holes. To make a long story short, I landed in Ostia by boat a few days ago, coming from Narbonne, where I had boarded a ship after visiting the Frankish city of Toulouse. Well, believe me or not but, some three months ago, a fleet of gigantic flying ships coming from the far future visited Toulouse. There, the people from the future concluded an alliance with the Count of Toulouse, who gave them some lands next to his city. Those people from the future, who possess some incredibly advanced knowledge and use extremely powerful weapons and machines, in turn built overnight a giant tower that reaches the clouds. That tower is incredibly beautiful and can be seen from afar, both at day and night. These people also massacred the Vikings who were approaching Toulouse at the time and also destroyed the other Viking armies busy burning and looting other Frankish cities. They now operate a fabulous open marketplace next to Toulouse, where they trade a variety of advanced goods against foodstuff like cereals, fruits and olive oil. I was on my way back from Bordeaux, where I had bought many barrels of fine wine, and stopped for two days in Toulouse, where I exchanged part of my wine for a mountain of steel tools and products that I will assuredly be able to sell at great profit in Capua.’’
‘’What kind of steel tools and products?’’ asked the astounded Karl, his mind in turmoil. In response, the merchant searched in one of the wooden boxes loaded in his chariot and extracted a 75-millimeter-long nail, which he handed to Karl.
‘’Like steel nails of various sizes. They sell these steel products at incredibly cheap prices, despite their high quality. In fact, a box of 200 such nails, all completely similar, cost me only three silver deniers.’’
‘’ONLY THREE DENIERS?!’’ exclaimed Karl. ‘’But one handmade nail normally costs close to one denier. Yet, this nail of yours is the best-looking one I ever saw. What about the goals of these people from the future? Did they come as conquerors?’’
The expression on the merchant’s face became sober then as he shook his head.
‘’They didn’t come as conquerors, but as refugees, if I could believe the stories I heard in Toulouse.’’
Karl’s jaw dropped wide open at those words.
‘’As refugees? When they have flying ships and can massacre whole Viking armies? You don’t make sense, my friend!’’
‘’Well, feel free to believe me or not, my good man, but I will tell you this: go to Toulouse! What those people from the future are building there is like the Garden of Eden. I have to go now, so that I could go sell my nails before someone else returns to Capua from Toulouse. You can keep the nail. Tata!’’
Karl, like the members of his troupe and young Aïsha, watched the merchant’s chariot roll away for a long moment before they formed a tight circle next to their cart, examining in turn the nail given by the merchant.
‘’That man must have been drunk!’