Death and the Devil

“—and break in two like a dry stick.”

The crowd was holding its breath. Matthias leaned against the doorpost watching the performance with interest. The shorter of the two, a chubby fellow, had worked himself up into a frenzy.

“And when we went to the aid of our fallen brother,” he declaimed, “to offer him our spiritual assistance, he opened his eyes, one last time—”

“—and confessed—”

“—confessed his sins, yes. ‘May the Lord forgive me my trespasses,’ he said, ‘as I forgive those who have trespassed against me—’”

“‘—that I may be received into God’s grace—’”

“‘Amen!’ and died.”

“‘—and be assured of eternal peace,’ he said, and—”

“And died!”

“In the name of the Lord, yes. And died.”

“Amen, amen.”

The people were moved. Some made the sign of the cross. The two monks looked at each other, visibly pleased with themselves.

“Tell us again, reverend brothers,” screeched a woman, pulling a pair of grubby children to the front. “The children didn’t hear.”

The monk with the louder voice raised his hands to heaven and opened his eyes wide. “O Lord,” he wailed, “how painful it is for me to bear witness to the death of Thy son Gerhard again and again. I would have given my life to save him, yet Thy will be done. But still, to see him fall while my brother here, Andreas von Helmerode, and I were sitting in pious contemplation beside one of the chapels, O Holy Mother of God, sweet vessel of grace and mercy, it was as if I were being tortured by a thousand red-hot knives. But is it our place to lament if it has pleased the Lord to take brother Gerhard to his bosom? Should we not be joyful and give thanks for the moment when, leaving this unimportant earthly existence behind, he was born anew? For, dear brothers and sisters, what is death but our true birth? What should we feel in the face of death but joyous anticipation that we, too, will soon appear before our Judge to be blessed with His infinite mercy. True, the cathedral has lost its guiding hand, but others will come and they will be imbued with Gerhard’s spirit. This is not a moment for vanity, not a moment to turn our thoughts to material things, to stones and towers, colored glass and mosaics. Yes, we saw Gerhard fall, saw him plunge from the highest point of the scaffolding at a moment when he was communing with God. You call it an accident? I call it Divine Providence and grace!”

“What sins did Gerhard confess to?” a man in the crowd shouted.

The monk went red as a beetroot and clenched his fist. “How dare you ask!” he roared. “May God send His lightning down upon you and shrivel you up, body and soul.”

“You should be praying instead of asking questions,” the second monk broke in, making the sign of the cross again, “praying all the time. Do you want to meet the poor soul in your dreams, accusing you of not having supported it with all your heart? Recite the Creed, sing the Te deum. Remember, at this very moment the dead man is on his way to appear before his heavenly Judge, weighed down with his sins, humbly offering up his remorse. But woe betide the sinner who stumbles, for the Devil’s fiendish crew lies in wait for the lamb along the path it must take to its Merciful Shepherd. Stinking filth, demonic obscenities, the wolves of darkness!” He made a grand gesture, as if to damn Cologne and all the surrounding villages. “Verily I say unto you, all of you, each and every one, will have to take that path, and you will long to have the prayers of the whole of Christendom to keep you safe from the clutches of the Evil One, who will try to drag you down to the darkest depths of hell where Leviathan writhes in transports of satanic delight on its red-hot grill, crushing human souls in its countless claws. Remember, we all must die! It opens its gaping maw, and its teeth are terrible round about! Its eyes are like the eyelids of the morning! Out of its mouth go burning lamps, and sparks of fire leap out! Out of its nostrils goeth smoke, as out of a seething cauldron! Its breath kindleth coals and a flame goeth out of its mouth! There is not its like upon earth.”

The terrifying image the monk had neatly borrowed from the Book of Job had its effect. Many of those around turned pale, some putting their heads in their hands and groaning, “Lord, forgive us our sins.”

“Forgive us our sins, is it? Then pray. Did not the angels, when they were taking Saint Martin to the world above, have such terrible struggles with the Powers of Darkness, that even the heavenly choirs fell silent? Pray! Pray!”

“Yes, pray, pray.” The crowd took up his words, heads were bowed, hands clasped, some sank to their knees, sobbing and trembling.

The fatter of the two monks gave the other a meaningful look and jerked his head in the direction of the corner of the street. Time to leave. The pair of them slowly made their way out of the kneeling crowd, then gradually quickened their pace.

Urquhart’s witnesses.

Matthias gathered up the skirts of his cloak, pushed his way through the crowd, and hurried after them. “Reverend Brothers!” he called out.

The monks stopped and turned, their eyes full of suspicion. When they saw he was a patrician, they immediately bowed their heads and adopted a deferential posture. “How can we be of service?” asked the fat monk.

“You were the only ones who saw Gerhard fall?” Matthias asked.

“Definitely.”

“Then there is just one thing I would ask of you. Speak in praise of Gerhard wherever you go.”

“Well, er—”

“You are itinerant monks?”

“Yes.” The taller raised his chin and a smug look appeared on his face. “It is the Lord’s will that we preach His Word all over the land. We say mass in the villages and hamlets, but sometimes we come to the towns and cities.”

“A magnificent city, this Cologne, a holy city,” added the other in hushed tones, moving his head this way and that, as if he could not see enough of it.

Matthias smiled. “Yes, of course. Tell people what you saw at the cathedral. People everywhere. They say there are some”—he leaned forward and put on a conspiratorial air—“who would drag Gerhard’s name through the mud.”

“Is that possible?” gasped the fat monk.

“I’m afraid it is. They bear false witness against you and claim it was not an accident.”

A wary glint appeared in the monk’s eyes. “But?”

“But murder. Perhaps even the Devil.”

“Absolute nonsense, of course.” The monk drew out the words.

“And a great sin to make such a claim,” the other added. “A good thing such lies are without foundation, since we can testify to what really happened.”

Matthias nodded. “A real blessing, Brother. Let us thank the Lord that He led you to the right place at the right time. I can rely on you, then?”

The two nodded alacritously.

“Most certainly.”

“We will announce it wherever we go.”

“Provided God watches over us and supplies our modest needs.”

“Which He does not always do.”

“Brother! Who would criticize the Creator? If He does not always do so, then I am sure it is for the good of our souls. We will go on our way in humility—”

“And hunger. Sometimes.”

They looked at him, smiling. Matthias took out a coin.

“The Lord be with you,” the fat monk murmured unctuously. The coin vanished into the depths of his grubby habit. “And now you must excuse us. Our Christian duty calls.”

“Of course, reverend Brothers.”

They grinned their excuses once more and took off. Matthias watched them until they had disappeared