“Because I don’t want to.”
“Prove it!”
“Why?” The look he gave her was almost pitying. “I know He doesn’t exist, but you have no right to demand I prove He doesn’t. If you insist on thinking I won’t because I can’t, I can live with that. You can believe what you like as far as I’m concerned.”
He lifted up the gag.
I’m losing him, thought Richmodis. I must learn as much as I can about him. There must be a spark of feeling somewhere inside him. “What did they do to you to make you like this?” she asked, surprised at her own question.
The expression froze on his face.
For a brief moment Richmodis thought she had managed to get through to him. Then suddenly he smiled again. “Nice try,” he said with a mixture of mockery and admiration, then quickly stuffed the gag between her teeth, turned, and headed for the door, his cloak swirling. “Unfortunately not quite good enough. Don’t worry, I’ll be back. I might even let you go. You’re safe here. Now neither the Fox nor your uncle will dare go around spreading stories about a supposed murder.”
The hinges creaked as he opened the door. Richmodis had a brief view of a courtyard with a wall beyond.
“Behave yourself, like a well-brought-up girl should.” In the fading light of the late afternoon he was just a shadow, a figment of the imagination, a bad dream. “And if you need proof of the complete absence of Divine Providence and the pointlessness of human existence, just think of me. One of millions.”
The door slammed shut behind him. She was alone with the rats.
Urquhart slumped back against the wall of the abandoned warehouse and closed his eyes. The images were threatening to return. He felt himself being dragged down into the red whirlpool of memories from which waves of sound rose up toward him, those strangely shrill tones he would never have thought a human being capable of producing.
No! That is not me, he told himself. They are someone else’s memories. I have no history.
His muscles relaxed.
The servant who had described the way to the old warehouse had also given him a message that told him that Jaspar and the Fox had es-caped from Little St. Martin’s. Urquhart had expected it. He congratulated himself on the success of his visit to Severinstra?e. It didn’t matter that they had got away. Not in the least. They could call off the search for them.
He considered briefly whether it would not be better to kill the woman now. He was going to kill her anyway, when it was all over, so why not now? No, it made better sense to keep her alive for the moment. He would need her to entice Jaspar and the Fox into his trap. And anyone else who had heard their story. He would arrange to hand over the hostage tomorrow evening. Once he had them all there, he could kill them one by one and set the building on fire. A few charred skeletons would be found. An accident, that would be all.
Assuming it would be of any importance after what was due to happen on the morrow.
He observed the long shadows of the battlements in the courtyard. They were creeping toward the building as if they were about to grasp it. The black fingers of fate, quite poetic! Perhaps he should write poems. By now he had accumulated so much wealth that he could devote the rest of his life to the only worthwhile occupation— enjoyment. Without regret or remorse, without limits, without purpose or plan, without feelings of guilt, without a single thought for the past or future. His pleasures would be boundless, his indulgence endless, and the images would fade for good and never return. Perhaps he would set himself up as a scholar and build a palace of wisdom with a court that could become the Santiago de Compostella of philosophical inquiry, to which the greatest intellects of Christendom would make pilgrimage. He would encourage bold speculation and then amuse himself royally at the expense of the fools who sought the meaning of life. He would encourage them and then drop them at the decisive moment. He would prove that God did not exist, nor anything similar to Him, that the world was just a black abyss in which nothing was worth aiming for apart from the enjoyment of the moment, with no regard for morality, obligation, or virtue. He would even demonstrate the meaninglessness of this ridiculous nominalism since there was no reality at all behind general concepts, no good, no evil, nothing.
The ruler of nothingness! A delightful idea.
He had this one last commission to complete, here in Cologne, then he would give up killing and devote himself to enjoyment. His mind was made up.
Urquhart pushed himself away from the wall and left the tumbledown courtyard. Matthias and he had agreed to meet every two hours between now and the early morning, in case something unexpected should crop up. That would leave him plenty of opportunity to check on the girl. Perhaps he would even feel like a conversation.
THE MESSAGE
They put on the leper’s clothes before they reached the city wall, out of sight of the guards on the gate. Jacob was still afraid of infection, but Jaspar assured him there was no danger. They took up their rattles and approached the city gate. It was worth a try. Although lepers were only officially allowed in Cologne on certain days of the year, the regulation was not very strictly applied as long as the beggars had their distinctive dress and rattles.
Today the guards seemed to be in a charitable mood and let them pass. They went through Cock Gate, making plenty of noise. No one who saw them bothered to give them a second look, so no one noticed that the white cloaks covered habits instead of knee breeches, nor that the two fatally ill men were the picture of health.
Jacob had had his doubts. “A pretty conspicuous disguise.”
“And therefore an especially good one,” Jaspar had replied. “The best of all. The ideal way not to attract attention is to behave in as conspicuous a way as possible.”
“I don’t understand.”
“By all the saints! Have you been basking in the light of my wisdom for two whole days with no result at all? Anyone who is after us will assume we will be creeping around the city like thieves in the night. They’ll be on the lookout for two little mice scurrying along, heads bowed. That we might attract attention to ourselves would never occur to them.”
“Not to the servants, but perhaps to the Shadow.”
“Even he’s not omniscient.”
As they walked through the city, not particularly hurrying, the sun was going down and everything in the streets merging into a uniform gray. Jaspar kept having to grab Jacob’s coat. “Don’t run.”
“We’ve got plenty of time, have we?”
“Yes, but only one life. Lepers don’t run.”
An east wind came up, blowing leaves and rubbish along the street. They crossed New Market Square, where the cattle market was just finishing, strolled along to Sternengasse, and from there toward Highgate. Their only problem was trying to avoid the charitable attentions of a few good Christians who wanted to give them money or food. They muttered something about a vow that forbade them from accepting alms in the street. However nonsensical they were, vows were looked on as inviolable. No one questioned a vow.
As they turned into Severinstra?e, the first raindrops began to fall and it became noticeably colder. “Can’t we go a bit quicker now?” Jacob urged. “There’s hardly anyone left out in the street.”
“This is precisely the place where we have to hobble along like two lepers with one foot in the grave,” said Jaspar, unmoved. “If they’re still looking for us, they’ll have posted someone near my house. No one will find anything odd about lepers begging at the door, but seeing them having a race would arouse suspicion in even the dullest mind.”
Sulkily Jacob bowed to fate and pulled his hat down over his face. The rain got heavier. By the time they reached Jaspar’s house, they were soaked through.
“What now?” asked Jacob.
“Now? We knock and beg for alms. Rolof opens the door and lets us in—”
“You of all people come up with a stupid idea like that?” Jacob broke in. “No sensible person would let a leper into his house.”
“But Rolof is not a sensible person, everyone knows that. Don’t try to beat me at my own game. At least we’ve made it this far. Once we’re inside we’ll get rid of these clothes, then I challenge anyone to prove they saw
