“Stay!”
The voice was so deep, loud, and powerful that Greta staggered backward as if she’d run against a wall. Sebastian started to cry again.
“You frightened him,” said the fool, rocking the child in his lap, looking like the harmless jester again. “Nasty mummy! Hasn’t been looking after poor little Sebastian, only ever thinking of the stern old fellow up in heaven. Tsk, tsk, tsk.” The fool shook his head and gave Greta a disapproving look. “He barely recognizes his own mother.”
“Of course he recognizes me,” said Greta weakly, but the eyes of her son told a different story. Sebastian had only glanced at her before turning back to the funny man in whose lap he was sitting.
“Bumpty bump again,” Sebastian called out. “Again!”
“What did you do to him?” screamed Greta. “You . . . you bewitched him!”
“Oh, I didn’t need to,” said the fool. “A little fun and song was all it took. And, by the way, he was calling for Martha before, not you. He liked good old Martha very much.”
A pain shot through Greta’s heart as if Hagen had thrust his sword straight through her. Tears streamed down her face, and she was overwhelmed by feelings of guilt. Greta knew that had been the jester’s intention but couldn’t stop it. “I don’t know what you’ve done to him or what you’re doing to me, but . . . but he is my son. I am his mother—”
“What sort of a mother gives her child to a nursemaid and hides inside a nunnery?” The fool chuckled, and the birds on the fountain cawed excitedly, flapping their wings. “An unnatural mother! Kraa! Kraa!” he went, imitating the call of the raven, and his birds joined in. “Kraa! Kraa!”
Greta was crying, her whole body shaking while her son snuggled up to the chest of the villain. She was beginning to feel nauseated from the stink of sulfur, her head thumping. What was going on here?
“Quit the games, Tonio!” sounded Johann’s voice from behind her. His hand grasped Greta’s shoulder. “Don’t listen to him,” he whispered to her. “That’s what the devil does, tugging and gnawing at that which you hold dearest.”
“Bah, you spoilsport!” The fool thumbed his nose at Johann, who was standing behind Greta alongside Karl. Then his pale, painted face began to beam. “How wonderful to see you again, little Faustus! Though we briefly met not long ago. Do you remember?”
“Oh yes, I remember, Tonio del Moravia.” Faust nodded. “I remember every single damned moment with you in my life.”
Every single damned moment.
Johann’s thoughts returned to the procession on All Saints’ Day a few weeks back. He had seen Tonio then, but his mind had been too preoccupied with his search for Viktor von Lahnstein and Greta to notice. He supposed there had been many people like him in the last few years.
The jester at the court. He is always near, hears all, sees all. No one takes him seriously, and yet he always speaks the truth.
“You walked right past me but you were wearing a mask,” said Johann. “And that hump on your back.”
“Not bad, for a cheap prop, huh?” The fool Tonio wiggled his head until the little bells jingled. “People love misshapen creatures because it makes them feel superior.” He pulled a face, making him truly look like a silly fool. “People are so easily deceived.”
“How long has this game been going on for?” asked Johann. “Over two years, isn’t that right? You slowly stole the pope’s trust.”
“Leo loved jesters. It wasn’t difficult to get a spot at court.” Tonio shrugged. “I can be highly entertaining when I want to, as you know. In addition, dear Leo was extremely quick-tempered—a true Medici. No one dared tell him the truth. No one but his fool.” Tonio grinned. “I believe I can say that we almost became something like friends. In the end, I was his most important adviser.”
“It was you who put the idea in the pope’s head that I knew how to make gold,” said Johann.
“It was supposed to be a joke, but Leo was so obsessed by the philosopher’s stone. He tortured one alchemist after the other and sifted through old documents in the Vatican library. That’s where he came across Gilles de Rais and his invocations. All right, I admit I ensured that he found the documents. Gilles always was one of my favorite shells. Forever hungry, never satisfied.”
Tonio weighed the child in his arms and stroked his rosy cheeks. Sebastian looked tired; his eyes kept falling shut.
“I thought it might be a good way to bring you to Rome,” he continued eventually, looking into Johann’s face. “I even traveled to Knittlingen and Bamberg in person to find you. It wasn’t easy to justify my absence to Leo. You see, I still haven’t given up on you, my little Faustus.” Tonio cooed like a dove. “I sent you my curse as a friendly reminder. Later, at Tiffauges, you were just about to return to me voluntarily, but sadly, your daughter and her beloved spoiled the show. Stabbing him to death in your frenzy was a lovely climax, I thought.” He laughed. “But now you’re finally here. Here with me in my realm. How do you like it?”
Tonio made a sweeping gesture and continued. “I love this place even more than Castel Sant’Angelo. It is ancient! Long before the times of Romulus and Remus, sacrifices were being offered up in this cave. Human sacrifices. The fountain stems from those times, and was later used by the Romans. Later again, baptisms were held here. Oh, if only the Christians had known what the fountain used to hold. Not water—oh no.” Sebastian briefly opened his eyes and started to whimper, and Tonio rocked him soothingly. “Hush, hush. Are you hungry again, my darling? Now hush like a good boy while I’m talking to your grandfather.”
Johann noticed
