beside him, motionless. Matthias, leaning against the door frame, thoughtfully observed a man in his early twenties who was restlessly pacing up and down by the windows before finally stopping in front of the old woman and the man seated next to her.
“Gerhard won’t talk,” he said.
“I have no doubt he won’t talk,” said the man with the goblet after a pause during which only the rasp of the old woman’s breathing was to be heard. “The only question is: for how long?”
Matthias pushed himself away from the door frame and slowly walked into the middle of the room. “Kuno, we all know the architect is your friend. I’m as convinced as you are that Gerhard will not betray us. He has more honor in his little finger than is in the fat bodies of all the priests of Cologne put together.” He stopped in front of the younger man and looked him straight in the eye. “But what I believe won’t necessarily correspond to the facts. We have everything to gain, but also everything to lose.”
“It’ll all be over in a few days anyway,” said Kuno imploringly. “Until then Gerhard won’t do anything to harm us.”
“And afterward?” The other young man stepped forward, his fist clenched in fury. “What’s the use of all our precautions if we end up celebrating the success of our scheme broken on the wheel with the crows gorging themselves on our eyes? On yours, too, Kuno! They’ll peck out those dreamy eyes of yours that look at the world with all the sharpness of a newborn baby.”
The older man raised his hand. “That’s enough, Daniel.”
“Enough?!” Daniel’s fist crashed down on the table. “While this sentimental fool is exposing us to ruin?”
“I said that’s enough!”
Matthias stepped in. “Your father’s right, Daniel. Arguing among ourselves is not going to help our cause. It’s bad enough having an ass like Heinrich in our ranks.”
“That was unavoidable,” muttered Daniel.
“Sometimes even idiots have their uses,” Matthias admitted, “and his money’s a handy ally. As you see, I accept inevitable risks. However”—he placed his index finger to his lips as was his habit when he wasn’t a hundred percent certain of something—“we must be sure we can trust Gerhard.”
“We are,” said Kuno softly.
“Like piss, we are!” Daniel screamed.
“Stop this!” The older man leaped up and slammed his goblet down on the table. “Use your brains instead of blurting out the first thing that comes into your head. Where’s the problem? We discussed a matter of common interest and Gerhard, a highly respected citizen and dear friend whose opinion we all value, decided not to join us. As was his right, I say. We should have taken that into account before indulging in such careless talk. If there’s a problem, it’s of our own making.”
“But we’re not talking of who’s to blame,” said Daniel.
“No? Well, anyway, it’s happened and Kuno here is ready to vouch for his friend’s discretion.”
“That’s just what he can’t do,” Daniel exclaimed. “Gerhard made it quite clear what he thought of our plan.”
“He rejected our offer to join the group. So what? That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s going to betray us.”
Daniel glowered but said nothing.
“True, Johann,” said Matthias. “But it doesn’t mean we have a guarantee, either. What do you suggest?”
“We must talk to Gerhard again. Assure ourselves of his loyalty. From what I know of him, I’m sure we’ll all be able to sleep soundly after that.” Johann looked at Kuno, who couldn’t hide his relief. “I think it’s in the interest of our young friend here, too.”
“Thank you,” whispered Kuno. “I’m sure you won’t regret it.”
Johann inclined his head. “And you can tell your brothers they needn’t worry.”
Kuno hesitated, then gave a curt nod and left the room.
For some time Johann, Matthias, Daniel, and the woman in the shadows remained in silence. From outside came the scrunch of the wheels of a passing cart, the faint sound of voices, scraps of conversation. A crowd of children ran past, arguing noisily.
Finally Johann said, in an expressionless tone, “What shall we do, Mother?”
Her voice was no more than a rustle of dry leaves.
“Kill him.”
THE GREAT WALL
On the way back to the place he called his home, Jacob suddenly decided to visit Tilman, a friend who lived in a somewhat less salubrious neighborhood.
To call where either of them lived a “neighborhood” was a joke. During the last few years, however, a bizarre hierarchy had developed among the poorest of the poor, who didn’t even have a place in one of the hospices or convents, and the
The origin of this privilege went back to the end of the previous century and the conflict between the emperor Frederick Barbarossa and Pope Alexander III, in which the archbishop of Cologne was involved—on the emperor’s side. As far as the peasants were concerned, it made no difference whose army happened to be passing through. Their womenfolk were raped, their children murdered, and they themselves held over a fire until they revealed where they had hidden what few valuables they possessed. Their farms were burned down, their stores requisitioned or consumed on the spot, and, since it was clear to the soldiers that a farmer couldn’t survive without his farm, they saved him from starvation by hanging him from the nearest tree.
Nothing for people to get worked up about.
Philip von Heinsberg, the then archbishop of Cologne, joined in the pillaging and plundering with a will and was not above razing the occasional monastery to the ground and massacring the monks. Perhaps surprisingly, this did not stop the pope, when he finally made peace with Barbarossa, from confirming him in his office of archbishop. The only loser in the whole affair, apart from the poor peasants, appeared to be the duke of Saxony, Henry the Lion.
Things started to get critical for Cologne only when the archbishop, having decided to extend his territory at Henry the Lion’s expense, made the mistake of squabbling with his allies and found himself facing an angry Lion with only his Cologne foot soldiers. He was forced to retreat, and the ugly mood of his troops threatened to bring disaster down on them all. The Cologne warriors slew everyone and everything that came within range, thus considerably increasing the chances of hostilities spreading to the city’s own territory. And if that happened, as everybody was aware, the first to be killed would be those who had nothing to do with this obscenity of a war.
Now they were landed with it.
So far the city council had supported their archbishop, but this was too much. In his absence they started to build new fortifications, which, legally, was the right of the emperor or the archbishop alone. The result was the inevitable bust-up. Philip was furious, forbade the wall, was ignored, appealed to Barbarossa, and in the end was bought off with a payment of two thousand marks. There was nothing to stop the good citizens from building their wall.
Now, in the year of our Lord 1260 and a good eighty years later, it had finally been declared completed. Five miles long, with twelve massive gate towers and fifty-two turrets, it literally dwarfed all other town walls. As well as the city proper, it also enclosed farms and monasteries, productive orchards and vineyards, which until then had lain unprotected outside the city gates, making Cologne an almost self-sufficient world.
For the citizens the great wall was a symbol of their independence and bolstered their self-confidence, much to the disgust of the present archbishop, Conrad von Hochstaden.
For Jacob it was a blessing.
He knew nothing about politics, nor did he want to. However, the men who designed the wall had included an architectural feature of which he and others like him had made good use. At regular intervals along the inside there were arches that were deep and high enough to provide shelter from the worst of the weather and the seasons. Eventually someone had the idea of making a lean-to shack out of planks, branches, and rags, and others followed suit. One of these was an old day-laborer called Richolf Wisterich who managed to keep body and soul together by working in the tread wheel for the hoists on the cathedral building site. When Jacob came back to Cologne a few months previously he had made friends with the old man and, when he died, inherited his shack. Thus he possessed
