Monday, November 9, 2009

Alcuin at Aa[X]en: Part IV

IV.


The scientific method as formulated by Descartes

has its origins, obviously, in orthopraxy

and has everything to do with God.

Charlemagne's prescribed sequence of motion

makes the fact quite plain: arriving at truth

is a ritual. Charlemagne would unsheathe his sword,

which heavy-hilted blade he was never without,

consider the reflection of the lambent flames

on the metal for awhile, and gently lay it across

his bureau on top of his loosely organized stack

of memos, invoices, and manuscripts.

The emptied sheath still girded to his hip,

Charlemagne would then pace in silence for,

as Alcuin determined, exactly 51 steps.


Yes, Alcuin was a compulsive hoarder of

figures, and is said to have first discovered

(for himself, not for all mankind, to be sure)

that 51, despite its looks, is not a prime number.

Alcuin could easily discern Charlemagne's affinity

for the number 3...but 17? This would cause

Alcuin to lose some sleep.

To have a knack for numbers, as we now know,

is to have a knack for God, which knacks

Alcuin had. He kept precise, nay, fastidious

tallies of the local sports teams:

wins, losses, ties, of course, but many other

hieroglyphic statistics such as arrow-to-target ratios

and lance/visor averages. In this, Alcuin anticipated

two of the most important inventions since the death of Christ:

baseball record-keeping and algebra.

Muslim scholars, not so incidentally, were way ahead

of the Europeans on the latter with al-jabr—

"the mending of broken bones," and thus "reunion,"

which allowed for the synthesis

of the rational and the irrational. Through numbers,

surely, but more profoundly, in some great theophanic

insight, through a way of seeing God.


At this point, Charlemagne: Let us retire to the stable.

The King re-sheathed his sword; Alcuin tucked parchments

under his arm. And both were the same gestures.

On their way, the pair picked up a chaliced cocktail to-go,

and, for the sake of the good form, would humor

a servant to escort them through a labyrinthine route,

a different servant and thus a different route each time,

up newel stairs through the curtain walls to the allure,

under which gemmed firmament all men

must disrobe the various fashions and accessories

of disagreement to stand, wonderstruck, as one

to pledge their allegiance to the stars.

Here, Charlemagne would place his drink

in an ope of the crenellations and remove his sword

once more. Then to enact an intricate and elegant

folk dance of swordwork.

There was a Northumbrian rhythm to it, which warmed

Alcuin with nostalgia, though he couldn't fathom

where Charlemagne picked it up so fluently:

accents, as they say, are the greatest

challenge in acquired multilingualism.

So Alcuin watched and could only speculate what

Charlemagne thought each time he swung

the blade in arcs that doubled the man's height;

according to his face, Alcuin concluded,

widows and orphans.


After some time, enough time for some star

to travel some distance larger than any man

could ever hope to count, a heavy-breathed

Charlemagne returned his broadsword

and, no louder than in his voice of conversation,

called for a servant. A different one, of course, quickly

arrived to lead the two down the far curtain

to the stable at the end of the stables,

whose rafters the King had his court architect

adjust to accommodate Abu l'-Abbas:

the Emperor's beloved elephant,

in whose presence Charlemagne would begin

the dance of the tongue, to utter

the language of the puzzle.

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