Death and the Devil

join in her plan?”

“What plan, Kuno?” asked Jaspar breathlessly.

Kuno seemed not to hear. He stared vacantly into space. Then his grasp loosed, he let go of Jaspar and sank back. “Finally we brought in Urquhart,” he whispered. “We clubbed together and brought the Devil to the city.”

“Urquhart?”

“He costs a pretty penny, does the Devil.” Kuno gave a coarse laugh. “William of Julich recommended someone who’d been recommended to him. A man who kills for money. That’s all anyone knew about him. We assumed Urquhart was a hired killer, but—”

“Who killed Gerhard? Was it Urquhart?”

Kuno nodded. “Urquhart. Slaughters whatever’s in his way. A butcher. A fiend. The Berlich whore, the beggar, the two monks—”

“Monks?”

“His—witnesses.”

Jaspar threw Jacob a quick glance. “Kuno,” he said, “what is Urquhart going to do? What is the aim of the alliance? Answer me, for pity’s sake, answer me.”

But Kuno had fallen asleep.

Goddert looked around helplessly. “Should I—”

“No,” said Jaspar, “we’ll let him rest awhile. He needs sleep, there’s nothing I can do about that.”

“What time is it?” asked Richmodis.

“I don’t know. At a guess, shortly after midnight.”

“I’m bloody cold,” moaned Goddert.

“Don’t worry,” said Jaspar, “I imagine things will heat up in the course of the night.”

MATTHIAS

Johann was getting weak. None of the old Overstolz spirit there.

Matthias wrinkled his nose in disgust as he fought his way through the storm. He despised weakness and he despised Johann. That odor of sentimentality he had hated all his life! Like a mold you just couldn’t get rid of. There was always someone ready with sniveling comments on his plans. It’s wrong. It’s a sin. It’s against the law of God.

It was enough to make you want to spew.

Matthias stole quietly through the alleyways around Haymarket. A man of his rank should have been on horseback, but a rider would attract attention to himself. Even in weather like this the night watchmen would be going about their business. It was not the best moment to be seen.

He had spent the last two hours finding out everything Urquhart needed to know to put an end to this mess once and for all. Matthias was under no illusion that they could silence everyone who had heard of Gerhard’s violent death. All the better if they could, of course. He didn’t imagine the Fox and Jaspar Rodenkirchen would have gone around telling everybody and anybody, but that was pure speculation on his part. The important thing was to eliminate Kuno. If Kuno talked, then he and his new friends had time before daybreak to ruin everything. Any influential person in Cologne would believe Kuno, and he could count on leniency from his judges if he gave evidence against them. A prattling beggar or a drunken priest, on the other hand, did not represent a serious danger to the Overstolzes.

Or, to be precise, a danger to me, thought Matthias. What are the others to me? They can lead the Kones or Heinrich, Daniel or Theoderich to the block for all I care.

In a few hours it would all be over anyway.

But first there was this night to get through. Urquhart had one more task before he could carry out the deed Matthias was longing to see. It gave him grim satisfaction to think that, however much what he was about to do ran counter to Johann’s wishes, it would receive Blithildis’s approval. She was the only person he really admired. She was an Overstolz, she was strength, power, even if she was blind and tied to her chair. She should have been his mother, not Johann’s.

He quickly went over what he had found out. Urquhart’s hostage was a Richmodis von Weiden. She lived on the Brook, together with her father. He knew the house. Jaspar von Rodenkirchen had no other relatives, only a servant, a cook, and a cleaning woman. Where the two women were, he had no idea. The servant was dead.

They were doomed. Urquhart would find them.

Suddenly Matthias felt the confidence well up inside him. Looking around to see that no one was watching, he slipped into a doorway. Beyond it yawned the emptiness of a huge courtyard. The howling storm was not so bad in the protection of its walls. By day flax and candles were sold here; now it was deserted. Heavy curtains of rain billowed before him.

He blinked and rubbed the water out of his eyes. Then he saw the immense shadow coming toward him through the downpour.

“I expected you sooner,” said Urquhart. His voice was as calm as ever, almost friendly, but a hint of sharpness was still audible.

“I came as quickly as I could.”

“Of course.”

“Have you gotten anywhere?”

Urquhart made a dismissive gesture. “I’ve been to the dean’s. Nobody there. They’re not that stupid.”

“Then go to Kuno’s. No, wait, leave that till last. There are too many other people there, servants and the like.”

“I wouldn’t bother with Kuno’s. Little Kuno escaped with the woman. Daniel—your noble family can be proud of him—was kind enough to poke a few holes in him.” Urquhart gave a mocking smile and threw his head back, letting the water run down over his face. “Women are such caring creatures. Softhearted. If they find a rabbit that’s been hurt they take it home and look after it.”

Matthias returned his smile. “I’ll tell you where to find her. Do what you can. Kill them all, if you like.”

“All? I couldn’t say who they all are anymore. Can you?”

“No. It’s enough if you eliminate one.”

“Who?” Urquhart said in the tone of a man who already knows.

Matthias spat on the ground. “The weakling.”

ON THE BROOK

“And the end of the story?” asked Jacob.

“Is quickly told,” said Jaspar.

Goddert gave them a disgruntled look and put a couple of logs on the fire. There was a crackling and whistling as air and moisture escaped.

“We ought to be doing something instead of philosophizing about history,” he muttered.

Jaspar disagreed. “We are doing something by philosophizing about history,” he said. “We know the conspirators and we know they have something planned. We still don’t know what or when. The answer must lie in the recent past.” He massaged the bridge of his nose. “After the Great Adjudication.”

“The ‘Great’?” asked Jacob.

“Yes,” said Richmodis, “there was another. Two years ago, when Conrad claimed there was a plot on his life.”

“Conrad would have lost that war, too,” Jaspar continued. “He was forced to make peace with the patricians. But he was still dangerous. And the conflict between patricians and tradesmen had reached the point where there were frequent armed clashes. On top of that there was the threat of civil war among the patricians, since they were split between the Overstolzes and their allies and the Weises. The Weises are the oldest merchant family in Cologne; compared to them the Overstolzes are nouveaux riches. The two groups had never been particularly fond of each other, but as long as there was a common enemy, the archbishop, they pulled together, more or less. But as the Overstolzes’ influence grew, the Weises looked for an ally. They found one in the archbishop.”

“Not really,” objected Goddert. “They supported the authorities. They behaved with dignity.”

“With dignity? They sold themselves. Not very wise, despite their name, to trust Conrad, if you ask me.”

“He’s our lord and master,” Goddert declared, “and it is not the place of his subjects to question his authority. Apart from his perhaps overly secular approach—”