Viktor von Lahnstein shook his head, incapable of coming up with a reply. He had sacrificed his entire life to the church, had fought against heretics and disbelievers because he was firmly convinced that in this time of new teachings, which placed man and not God in the center, only a strong church could be their salvation. He had gone through hell and high water for this pope, had put up with all his escapades, only to find out now that his master had lost his mind.
The pope was summoning the devil.
Was it insanity or the worst joke the devil had ever thought up?
“You must not do this,” said Lahnstein, taking another step toward the pope.
Leo gave him an astonished look. “What did you say?”
“With all due respect, Holy Father, I am not going to allow this. This isn’t the church I gave my solemn oath to.”
“I am your uppermost master, have you forgotten? I am the ruler of this church.”
“My uppermost master is God, and even you are but His servant. I am sorry to say this, Father, but your time is over.”
With those words, Lahnstein spun around and strode toward the stairs. He would notify the guards. When they saw what was going on here, they would understand and arrest the pope. It was plain to see that His Holiness had gone insane. Lahnstein couldn’t think of any precedents in the history of the church. Popes had murdered their opponents, kept whores, sold their positions, desecrated tombs. But a pope getting involved with the devil?
The representative took long strides and had almost reached the steps. The cardinals would certainly agree with him following a thorough investigation. They would elect a new pope, and Lahnstein would have a new master he could serve loyally. The church would never go down, ever! Not even when the Holy Father himself had sold his soul to the devil. All would be well—
Lahnstein winced when he felt a sharp sting in the back. A moment later, his legs caved in, but he didn’t fall.
Strange, he thought.
When he looked down, he saw the blade of a sword protruding from his belly. Blood was dripping off its tip.
My blood.
He wanted to turn around but couldn’t move. Instead he felt a deathly cold spreading from the center of his body to the tips of his fingers and toes. The sword twisted several times in his abdomen, then it was pulled back. The pain was indescribable. Only then did Lahnstein fall down the stone steps, tumbling head over heels several times before coming to rest at the bottom of the stairs.
The last thing he saw was the opening at the top of the stairs, illuminated from behind by the glow of the firepots. Standing there was a huge apparition, his sword raised like an avenging angel.
Like the archangel Lucifer, thought Lahnstein, his final thoughts thundering like a storm through his mind. The light bringer.
Then he was overwhelmed by darkness.
“Did you immobilize him?” asked the pope from his strange throne beneath the baldachin. A small wave was all it had taken to communicate his command.
Hagen nodded. “He has been silenced for good, Holy Father.”
“Well done, Hagen,” said Leo with a smile. “I knew I could rely on you. I have always been able to rely on you. Now bring me the child.”
“Your wish is my command, Holy Father.”
Heavy boots trudged past Lahnstein’s body, which was already turning cold.
Dust tickled Johann’s nose, and his rash burned like fire. He had quickly hidden behind the door to the guards’ chamber when Lahnstein had turned around. The last order the pope had issued to Hagen was branded in his mind as if with glowing needles.
Bring me the child.
Johann was shaking with rage and fear. Leo wanted to sacrifice Johann’s grandson. Desperately, he racked his brains for ideas. Below him, at the foot of the stairs, lay Lahnstein, his supposed enemy, cut down like an animal by Hagen. Johann had no doubt that the pope’s close confidant was dead. Within a matter of moments, nothing seemed the way it was before. Apparently Lahnstein really hadn’t known about the plan to invoke the devil. Another was behind all this. Someone Johann knew all too well.
What shape have you taken this time, Tonio?
Tonio was a master of deception, of masquerade, but Johann’s eternal enemy hadn’t shown himself yet. Sitting enthroned on the platform was a pope who was making common cause with the devil. It must have been Tonio who told Leo about the ritual, just like Tonio must have been the one to put the idée fixe of finding the philosopher’s stone in the pope’s mind a couple of years ago, resulting in the hunt for Johann.
Where are you, Tonio? What is your plan?
Trembling, Johann stood beside the open door of the guards’ chamber. He should have followed Hagen downstairs. But he didn’t stand a chance against the giant, and besides, Hagen would bring the boy up here to complete the gruesome ritual.
Johann hesitated for another moment, then he’d made his decision.
The devil could be bartered with. And the pope would be another pawn in the bargain.
Johann stepped onto the terrace, and the wind immediately tore at his clothes. Behind him, the Angel’s Chapel with its platform roof formed the rear part of the terrace, and far below him
