Melaten! The leper colony! The largest in Cologne, to the west of the city, on the road to Aachen. He had escaped—to a leper colony!
The living dead, they called them. To contract leprosy meant to be taken away from your family and friends, no longer be part of their lives. The laws were inexorable. There was even a rite, with obsequies, eulogy, and last blessing, in which the congregation said farewell to lepers as to someone who had died. After that they began their lives in the leper community, away from society. Any contact with healthy people—in church, at the market, the inn, the mill, the communal oven—was forbidden on pain of punishment. They were not allowed to wash in flowing water. If they wanted to buy something, they were not allowed to touch it until they had bought it. If they should happen to speak with a healthy person, they had to keep downwind of them. They were only allowed to go out of the colony with the permission of the hospice master, only allowed to visit the city on a few days of the year to beg, clearly identifiable in their jacket and breeches, white cloak down to their knees, white gloves, and large hat, and carrying their wooden rattle so people could hear them coming.
Lepers died twice. They were the dead who were still waiting for death. Excluded from society and left with nothing but their hope of heaven. Those who could afford it bought a place in a leper house like Melaten, one of the largest in the German Empire, others built primitive shacks on designated land or lived a vagrant life.
The immense pity everyone felt for them was only outweighed by their revulsion.
Jacob shivered. He pulled his habit around him and clasped his arms tightly. “Excuse me, but—” He shot a quick glance at the gate.
“Did you come with the cart?” asked the man.
“Yes, I—”
“Saint Dionysus be praised! You must be the priest they were going to send. Follow me, Father, he’s in the last house. Though whether he’s still alive or not, I don’t know.”
Now they thought he was a priest! Was he going to have to give someone the last rites? “I—I really ought to be going,” he stammered.
The man shook his head. “It won’t take long, Father. Who else is there to pray for him?”
“Pray? But I’m—no, wait.” Jacob rubbed his eyes and thought. He was wearing a habit, therefore he was a monk. Would they let him go if he admitted he wasn’t?
He’d think of a way out of the situation. Somehow. “Good,” he said, “let’s go.”
“No!” It was a well-known voice that rang out.
Jacob spun around. “Jaspar!” he exclaimed, as much in bewilderment as relief.
“I’ll do that,” said Jaspar, as if their meeting was expected. “Got here before me, did you? Have you been cadging a lift again? No matter. You wait here. My novice,” he explained to the man. “A bit timid, unfortunately, and not quite right in the head, either. Always forgetting things, sometimes even his own name.”
“A bit old for a novice, isn’t he?” said the man hesitantly, with a side glance at Jacob.
“Yes. It’s his low intelligence. He’ll never rise any higher.”
Jacob’s chin sank. “Hey, Jaspar, what’s all this?”
“You just keep your mouth shut and wait for me, d’you hear? Stay here till I get back, don’t run away and don’t talk to people.”
“But—”
“No buts. Sit over there by that wall.”
Speechless, Jacob watched him go with the man and a few others across to the buildings, entering the last one. The lepers remaining outside went about their business, leaving Jacob by himself. With a shake of the head, he sat down against the church wall and examined his scraped fingers again.
It was quite a long time before Jaspar returned. The man was still with him. “I’m glad his sufferings are at an end,” Jacob heard him say.
“The grace of the Lord is immeasurable and His ways a mystery to us” was Jaspar’s devout reply. “Peace be unto his soul. Spend the night in prayer for him. He partakes of eternal life, but his way will be hard and full of danger. The Powers of Darkness lie in wait for him on his way to heavenly bliss, like robbers trying to steal his soul.”
“We will pray, I promise. In the meantime may I invite you to a mug of wine in our inn?”
“Thank you for the kind thought, but my novice and I have a long walk ahead of us. To the leper house on Judenbuchel.” Jaspar put on a mournful expression. “The same story. It’s a tragedy.”
“The Lord is calling many to appear before Him at the moment.”
“He calls them to join the heavenly choirs in praising Him.”
“Surely. By the way, I heard there have been some strange deaths in the city.”
Jacob went over to join them. “I—” he said.
“Didn’t I tell you to keep your mouth shut?” snapped Jaspar, then went on to the man, “If you would like to do me a favor, you could let me have a couple of white cloaks, pairs of gloves, and hats. There was a fire in the washhouse and they’re a bit short of them in the Judenbuchel house at the moment. Some of them need to go into the city tomorrow. Oh, and two rattles. If you can spare them, of course.”
“Wait here,” said the man. “I’ll see what we can do.”
Jaspar, a self-satisfied smile on his face, watched him disappear between the buildings.
“What’s all this about me not being right in the head?” hissed Jacob.
In his inimitable way, Jaspar raised his brows. “Well, I had to find some way or other of extricating you from the mess you’d got yourself into. Or would you rather have given the dying man the last rites?”
“Of course not.”
“You see? It’s best if they think you’re a simpleton. After all, you did come here underneath the cart of the man who regularly delivers the wine to Melaten. He might be a bit annoyed when he hears about it.”
“More than annoyed,” said Jacob. “He was told I’m a thief.”
“Who told him? The men who stopped the cart?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Now that is interesting. What are you supposed to have stolen?”
“One guilder.”
“Oh, what a naughty fox-cub you are!”
“Forget the jokes. I’m supposed to have—”
Jaspar shook his head and put his finger to his lips. “We’ll talk later. Here’s our friend.”
The man, who turned out to be the hospice master himself, came carrying some clothes tied up in a bundle and two rattles.
“Too kind,” said Jaspar with an extravagant bow. His nose and chin looked as if they might get stuck in the ground. Jacob hesitated, then quickly followed his example.
“Not at all,” replied the man. “It’s we who have to thank you, Father.”
“You will get the clothes back.”
“No hurry. And they’ve just been washed, so you needn’t worry about touching them.”
“Once more, thank you.”
“God be with you in your difficult task.”
They said farewell and left the hospice through the orchard. There was a narrow gate there that was open all day. That was the way Jaspar had come in.
Jacob was relieved to be out of the leper colony, though at the same time he was ashamed of his fear and would gladly have stayed awhile. He somehow felt he had run away again instead of facing up to something important, bringing unhappy memories to the surface. He kept looking back as they made their way along the road to Cologne. He sensed he would not forget his involuntary visit that quickly. Then, suddenly, he felt strong and full of life again. The lepers had lost everything. He still had a chance of winning.
Jaspar seemed to have guessed his thoughts. “The disease bothers them less than it does healthy people,” he said. “If you’re incurably ill and dead for the world, what’s to stop you laughing at yourself? They have no hope or, to be more precise, one should say they are free from hope. A huge difference. Paradoxically, losing everything can mean you lose despondency and despair as well.”
“Have you been there before?” asked Jacob.
Jaspar nodded. “Several times.”
“Were you never afraid of becoming infected?”
