“True enough.” Lahnstein raised a hand. “I’m guessing he told you that he wanted to face Tonio to destroy him. But you know that wasn’t true, don’t you? Your father is a master of deception. He deceived his assistant and even his own daughter. He is a Satanist who called upon the devil with those heretics. He betrayed you, he betrayed your beloved, he betrayed his faithful assistant—he betrayed you all. He murdered the man you loved!” He placed his cold, heavy hand on her shoulder. “Your father is evil, Greta. It is time that you recognize the truth.”
Greta didn’t reply; conflicting feelings raged inside her. Lahnstein was right. Her father had made a pact with the devil. He was a Satanist. Sure, he hadn’t always been evil—not wholly, anyway, because she had seen his good side—but the devil had steadily gained more power over him. Her father had only ever done that which best served himself. In order to reach Tonio he had even murdered someone and forsaken his daughter.
A terrible thought came to her. If her father possessed such an evil side, then what about her? Hadn’t she also inherited other unholy talents from him, like reading palms? Perhaps she would someday choose the dark path, too. And what were the implications for her unborn child? She had to protect her child!
“I want you to pray with me, Greta, daughter of Faust,” said Lahnstein suddenly.
He led her away from the table and gently pushed her to her knees. Greta felt like she was in a trance. Lahnstein knelt down beside her and folded his hands.
“O most gracious Lord in heaven,” he called out loudly, his head raised toward the ceiling. “Behold this woman who has lost the right path. Let us pray for her. For her and her father, whom the devil has taken!”
“Evil is like a disease,” he said to Greta. “Like an ulcer. It must be cauterized before it spreads—even in families. Or it might be healed in time by the right faith. Maybe it isn’t too late for you, Greta. For you and your child. If you decide on the right side.”
Greta closed her eyes and prayed in silence. It felt good to find something to hold on to in this bleak world. Amid the horror that had been surrounding her, her faith had grown steadily. Yes, she had experienced the devil, so how could she doubt that God existed and watched over her? God would stand by her in this darkest hour.
“Are you deciding on the right side, Greta?” asked Lahnstein forcefully. He was still kneeling next to her. “There is still time to turn around.”
“What do you expect of me?” she asked.
Lahnstein squeezed her hand. “I want you to accompany me to Rome. Not as a prisoner, but as a servant of good. Your father is one of the most powerful weapons of the devil. If his own daughter gives herself to God, we cause more damage to the devil than if we burn you.” Lahnstein gave a thin smile. “Do you want to join our side? Do you want to serve God, Greta?”
“I . . . I do.” As soon as the words were out, a pleasant warmth flooded Greta. Last night had finally opened her eyes. In her prayers and during her many church visits at Amboise, God had been calling for her, but only now had she heard Him. Lahnstein stood on the side of the pope, the leader of Christendom, while her father had joined forces with the devil. Until now she hadn’t been capable of seeing that. Lahnstein offered her a return to the bosom of the church. He gave her life and the chance as a mother and believer to do penance for what she had done, for what her father had done—and for what he might still do. Her child would grow up in Rome, a place that was still a shield against all things evil, all things devilish.
And yet she couldn’t agree, not while poor Karl, her last, her only friend still suffered so horribly for the sins of his master.
“I will come with you,” she said to Lahnstein with a grave voice. “I will pray for my immortal soul and for the whole of Christendom. I will join the battle against the devil. But on one condition: you set Karl free. No more torture.”
Lahnstein thought about it briefly, then shrugged. “All right. The poor fellow has been tortured enough. If his condition doesn’t improve, I will send him to a hospital, I promise. Let the monks look after his befuddled soul. And you come to Rome with me and serve the true faith.”
He held out his hand to Greta. When she grasped it, she thought of the pact her father had once made with Tonio. This was a pact, too.
But it was a pact with the good side.
Greta’s grip was strong and determined. “We go to Rome,” she said, more to herself. “May my child grow up in a better world than this one. May God protect this child and all who resist the devil.”
When Viktor von Lahnstein left the room, Hagen was waiting for him. He had stood guard outside the door the entire time.
“No torture,” said Lahnstein. “And no execution. She is coming to Rome with us.”
The giant raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Lahnstein knew that Hagen wasn’t stupid; the big man probably drew his own conclusions. They had been chasing Faust for months now. He had slipped through their fingers in the last moment at Chinon, where they had risked everything and lost a number of men. They were still in the middle of enemy territory, like a band of rogue mercenaries, perpetually expecting French soldiers who might block their way. When there were no watch fires on the towers of Tiffauges Castle, they had struck. But yet again Faust had managed to escape,
