know.’
‘But this device will also allow you to plan your campaigns and plot your strategy—’ Alcuin paused for dramatic effect ‘—which is why our king and lord asked me to
teach you some geography. He may want your advice about where he should next send his armies.’
Alcuin now had their complete attention; they were like a pack of hounds that have heard the first, faint sound of the huntsman’s horn.
‘If you were to advise the king, what would you say should be his priority?’ he asked.
‘Finish off the heathen Saxons,’ grunted Gerin. ‘We’ve been fighting them for years. One last push should do it.’
Alcuin placed the clay figures of a man, a horse and an ox, facing outward on the tile labelled SAXONIA.
‘So here we assign some infantry, cavalry and a supply train for the task. You will have to bear in mind that the king’s host will be entering densely wooded country. It will be slow
work for them.’ He indicated some cross-hatching incised in the tiles. I guessed it represented forests.
‘I disagree,’ said Gerard. ‘The Saracens are a greater threat than the Saxons. They’ve attacked us once and will do so again.’
I recalled that Gerard’s home was in the far south bordering on the Mediterranean and had been ravaged by Arabs from Africa.
Alcuin placed several more figurines on the tile marked SEPTIMANIA.
Hroudland was stalking eagerly around the table, looking at the map from every angle.
‘The best campaign is one that brings glory and also pays for itself. If we overrun the Avars, their treasure will fill our coffers for years to come.’
Alcuin arranged some miniatures, this time in the east, on CARINTHIA.
‘What is your suggestion?’ asked Alcuin. He was looking directly at me.
The little figures on the table were facing in opposite directions, widely scattered and vulnerable. My reply would sound cautious and dull compared to the opinions of my companions.
‘I would begin by asking the king whether he really needs to extend his kingdom. It is already immense and it prospers.’
‘And if he does decide to send out his army?’ Alcuin asked softly.
‘Then he must first secure his borders; make sure that no enemy invades while his troops are elsewhere.’
‘Which is precisely what I and the other members of his council have been telling him,’ said Alcuin. He began collecting up the figurines and returning them to the box.
My companions sensed that the lesson was over and began to head for the door. A clerk came over and requested Alcuin’s presence at a nearby conference with some other priests. But I
lingered beside the table, staring down at the map. It was more detailed than I had first noticed. Thin, meandering grooves were rivers; straight lines almost certainly the old Roman roads. Someone
had drawn a comb through the wet clay before it was fired, leaving ridges and furrows to indicate the extent of mountain ranges. I allowed my imagination to wander across the modelled landscape as
I devised a make-believe itinerary for myself. I sidled slowly around the table, selecting which of the towns and cities I would choose to visit. Their names were not always easy to make out. I
bent over the table, concentrating so hard with my single eye that it made me light-headed and giddy. In places the tiles had dark blotches where the clay was poorly mixed, and the lettering was
indistinct. The tile labelled SAXONIA, for instance, showed an irregular dark stain the colour of dried blood where Gerin had proposed mustering an invasion army. I shivered, not knowing if this
was a portent. Then a glint from the far side of the map caught my attention. It was a pin prick of light, unmissable. Curious as to what caused it, I walked around the table and looked closer. A
speck of shiny material had been exposed when the mapmaker scraped his comb through the clay to mark the range of mountains dividing the kingdom from the Franks from the lands of the Saracens. The
‘But this device will also allow you to plan your campaigns and plot your strategy—’ Alcuin paused for dramatic effect ‘—which is why our king and lord asked me to
teach you some geography. He may want your advice about where he should next send his armies.’
Alcuin now had their complete attention; they were like a pack of hounds that have heard the first, faint sound of the huntsman’s horn.
‘If you were to advise the king, what would you say should be his priority?’ he asked.
‘Finish off the heathen Saxons,’ grunted Gerin. ‘We’ve been fighting them for years. One last push should do it.’
Alcuin placed the clay figures of a man, a horse and an ox, facing outward on the tile labelled SAXONIA.
‘So here we assign some infantry, cavalry and a supply train for the task. You will have to bear in mind that the king’s host will be entering densely wooded country. It will be slow
work for them.’ He indicated some cross-hatching incised in the tiles. I guessed it represented forests.
‘I disagree,’ said Gerard. ‘The Saracens are a greater threat than the Saxons. They’ve attacked us once and will do so again.’
I recalled that Gerard’s home was in the far south bordering on the Mediterranean and had been ravaged by Arabs from Africa.
Alcuin placed several more figurines on the tile marked SEPTIMANIA.
Hroudland was stalking eagerly around the table, looking at the map from every angle.
‘The best campaign is one that brings glory and also pays for itself. If we overrun the Avars, their treasure will fill our coffers for years to come.’
Alcuin arranged some miniatures, this time in the east, on CARINTHIA.
‘What is your suggestion?’ asked Alcuin. He was looking directly at me.
The little figures on the table were facing in opposite directions, widely scattered and vulnerable. My reply would sound cautious and dull compared to the opinions of my companions.
‘I would begin by asking the king whether he really needs to extend his kingdom. It is already immense and it prospers.’
‘And if he does decide to send out his army?’ Alcuin asked softly.
‘Then he must first secure his borders; make sure that no enemy invades while his troops are elsewhere.’
‘Which is precisely what I and the other members of his council have been telling him,’ said Alcuin. He began collecting up the figurines and returning them to the box.
My companions sensed that the lesson was over and began to head for the door. A clerk came over and requested Alcuin’s presence at a nearby conference with some other priests. But I
lingered beside the table, staring down at the map. It was more detailed than I had first noticed. Thin, meandering grooves were rivers; straight lines almost certainly the old Roman roads. Someone
had drawn a comb through the wet clay before it was fired, leaving ridges and furrows to indicate the extent of mountain ranges. I allowed my imagination to wander across the modelled landscape as
I devised a make-believe itinerary for myself. I sidled slowly around the table, selecting which of the towns and cities I would choose to visit. Their names were not always easy to make out. I
bent over the table, concentrating so hard with my single eye that it made me light-headed and giddy. In places the tiles had dark blotches where the clay was poorly mixed, and the lettering was
indistinct. The tile labelled SAXONIA, for instance, showed an irregular dark stain the colour of dried blood where Gerin had proposed mustering an invasion army. I shivered, not knowing if this
was a portent. Then a glint from the far side of the map caught my attention. It was a pin prick of light, unmissable. Curious as to what caused it, I walked around the table and looked closer. A
speck of shiny material had been exposed when the mapmaker scraped his comb through the clay to mark the range of mountains dividing the kingdom from the Franks from the lands of the Saracens. The
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