“Now wash each other,” said Father Jerome’s gentle, singing voice like from another world.
With his right hand Karl stroked the doctor’s hair, then his warm, salty fingers ran across the doctor’s face, neck, chest, and down until they touched Faust’s pubic hair. The doctor didn’t seem to mind, and he, too, began washing Karl all over. With his right hand he stroked Karl and smiled at him. They were very close, their bodies touching, and Karl felt arousal rising up in him like lava inside an erupting volcano. He screamed his lust out into the world.
They embraced, standing in the pool like one being with four arms. From afar Karl could hear the chorale of the disciples, accompanying their singing with rhythmic clapping.
“Masterel, al zulath, esternis Locat, phrector! Zhooooool . . .”
Karl didn’t understand the words, but they sounded very old and at the same time as if they’d only just been born. The organ music set in again, and Karl felt the drone in every fiber of his body, washing through him like a wave.
This was the most amazing moment of his life—he felt so happy!
He was completely wrapped up in his own world, his eyes closed with delight. He loved the doctor and the doctor loved him! He hoped this dream would never end.
In this state of rapture, Karl didn’t see Father Jerome hand the doctor a razor-sharp dagger of polished obsidian.
Two hours earlier, Greta had looked up at the castle one last time. Then she turned away with a sick feeling in her stomach and walked back into the woods where John was waiting for her.
“Still nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s long past the agreed time. So far he’s always given the signal much earlier than this.”
“I haven’t seen any watch fires tonight, either,” remarked John. “That’s what I find even more strange, to be honest. A large castle like this? And there were watch fires every other night.”
“Something is wrong.” Greta sighed.
John came up close to her and took her hand. They were standing by the edge of the forest to the castle’s west, the moat gleaming black below them. “Your father gave us clear instructions. If there are no more signals, we are to leave as fast as we can. I gave him my word that no harm would come to you, and I’m going to keep my word. I won’t allow the mother of my child to put herself in danger.”
“Oh, John. You, you . . .” Greta was tempted to rest her head against his wide chest, but then she pulled herself together, straightened up, and crossed her arms defiantly. “Don’t talk to me as if I’m a fragile little lady sitting in a castle chamber. I’ve always been able to defend myself. I know very well what my father said. But that doesn’t mean that I follow his orders—or yours.”
“You read his lines, Greta. I am very sorry, but he hasn’t got long to live. Maybe he’s already gone. He chose this path—no one forced him to go. And besides . . .” John hesitated.
“What is it?”
“If we noticed that no watch fires have been lit tonight, then those mercenaries will, too. I’m guessing that papal representative isn’t stupid. He has not just the giant but also some other men capable of invading an unguarded castle. You don’t need an army for that. There’s a good chance they’ll make use of tonight.”
Greta pinched her lips. John was right; she hadn’t thought of the soldiers. Four days and five nights they had spent in the woods together. And even if concern for her father robbed her of sleep, it had still been an unforgettable time. John had looked after her most lovingly and built them a small, cozy camp. They had gone hunting together and purchased a few treats from nearby farmers. There John had also learned that foreign soldiers still hung around the area, including Hagen, who had been sighted. Viktor von Lahnstein had taken up residence at the tavern in town, and he was bound to observe the castle from there. It was possible that he’d decide to strike this very night. What in God’s name was going on up there?
“Listen, John, I can’t bear this any longer,” Greta said. “I know I should keep out of it. But Karl is up there, too. And Faust . . . He is my father, after all.”
“And what kind of father takes his daughter on a journey like this?” replied John hotly. “Your father is sick—not just in his body but in his head. I’ve always thought there’s something sinister about him.”
“You mustn’t talk of him that way!” snapped Greta. But deep down she agreed with John. There truly was something sinister about him—malevolent, even. His wish to confront Tonio had grown stronger and stronger in recent weeks. And there was also something else—something she wasn’t telling John because she didn’t fully understand it herself.
If Tonio really was up there at the castle, she wanted to face him, too. Ever since those unholy days at Nuremberg, he had also become part of her life.
“I want to know what’s going on up there,” said Greta with a grim expression. “Is my father dead or alive? And what about Karl? I owe it to him, at the least, to check on them.”
“And how do you propose to do that?” John shook his head and pointed at the dark outline of the castle on the other side of the moat. “Even if no fires have been lit, the gates are closed.”
“I’m a juggler, remember? If there’s anything I know, then it’s magic and trickery, and most of all control of my body.” Greta lowered her voice as if someone might be able to overhear her. But the only sound in the woods was the hooting of an owl. “Yesterday, while you were hunting, I took a look at the north side of the castle.
