Or the devil, thought Johann.
“The . . . the French delegate at Bamberg was you, right?” asked Karl now, leaning against the cave’s wall, heat and sulfur taking their toll on him, too. “And Greta and I saw you at Metz, below the bridge.”
“Hell, I was hungry, and so I became careless.” Tonio shrugged. “After Faust’s escape from Bamberg, I had to change tack. I was forced to accept the fact that my darling wasn’t coming to Rome anytime soon. I would have loved to have him by my side! But I found a way to make Agrippa lure you to France. There was . . . another task awaiting.” The master eyed his former apprentice with curiosity. “You know what I’m speaking of?”
“I do,” replied Johann reluctantly. The silver globe was hidden underneath his shirt. Johann would hold back the pawn for as long as he could.
The fumes made him see shadows where there could be none, and his head ached from the stink. Little Sebastian was fast asleep in Tonio’s lap, the boy’s cheeks looking healthy and red—too red. Johann guessed they didn’t have much time before the fumes killed them all.
“Did you get what I sent you to Leonardo’s for?” growled Tonio, sounding like a large panther.
Johann blinked a few times and tried to focus. “We’ll talk about that in a moment. But first there is something I’d like to know.”
“Oho!” Tonio spread his arms and smiled. “There is something the clever Doctor Faustus doesn’t know? Be my guest.”
“You can be so many things—a powerful wizard, an alchemist, even a French marshal. Why in God’s name did you become the pope’s fool?” Johann shook his head. “All right, you had Leo’s attention, were able to weave intrigues and put ideas in his head. Was it about war? Is that what your goal was? To sow discord at the court of one of the world’s most powerful men?”
“Think, clever Faustus.” Tonio tilted his head. “You are so bright. Why do you think I encouraged the pope to invoke the devil when the devil was already in Rome?”
Johann had asked himself the same question over and over. He still hadn’t come up with an answer. Tonio was a master of lies and deception, but he always pursued a particular goal. Something Agrippa once said came to Johann’s mind.
The devil appears in all kinds of shapes.
Despite the fumes, Johann tried to arrange his thoughts. In order to walk on earth, the devil needed a shell. That much Agrippa had found out. Gilles de Rais had been one such shell, and later Tonio del Moravia, the sorcerer, and several years ago he, Johann, was supposed to serve as a shell. Back then, in Nuremberg, Tonio’s disciples had attempted to bring the true devil to earth. And one detail had been very important.
Johann had to come of his own free will. That was the ancient rule.
And suddenly he understood Tonio’s plan.
It was a joke, and it was so good that surely even God in heaven had to acknowledge its ingenuity. Johann struggled not to laugh out loud. The fumes made the terrible suddenly seem funny. It was hilarious!
The devil as pope.
“You wanted to become pope,” Johann exclaimed. “That was what the ritual was for. If Leo had managed to summon the devil, you would have been able to slip into his shell. Just like you have done with all the other shells!”
“The devil as God’s representative.” Tonio clapped his hands as Sebastian slept deeply in his lap. “Bravo, bravissimo! And wouldn’t it have been the most beautiful coat for someone like me? Say it, little Faustus. This Martin Luther already called the pope the devil. But what if the pope truly were the devil? Oh, I would have built an empire of terror, of decadence, of gluttony and pomposity. We were well on our way, Leo and me—the coffers were empty, the court was turning into a Circus Maximus, the screams of tortured men echoed through Castel Sant’Angelo. But then you came and once again ruined everything. Bad boy! Bad, bad boy!”
Again Tonio seemed to expand, and his shadow against the wall grew horns, a tail, and long claws that reached for Johann. Johann felt a hot breath of air, as hot as if it came straight from hell.
It’s just the fumes, he thought. Just the fumes. How much longer before I lose consciousness?
He looked for the cracks the fumes were coming from but couldn’t spot any. The glowing at the back of the cave was becoming stronger. It was so hot in here. Johann had heard that in ancient times, heathen priests used such fumes to obtain states of ecstasy, making them see things that weren’t there and causing them to speak in riddles. Staggering a little, Johann looked behind him. To his horror, he saw that Karl and Greta had already lost consciousness. He wouldn’t last much longer. He had to bring this to an end. His hand moved to the pendant on his neck.
“Tonio, I—” he began.
“You always ruin everything,” snarled Tonio. “You never do as you’re told.” Then his expression changed just as abruptly again, and Tonio looked almost benevolent and kind. “But that’s just the way we are. We love chaos.”
“We?” asked Johann, his strength fading fast.
“Yes, we, little Faustus. Us two.” Tonio reached out his hand to him as if he wanted to stroke Johann’s head.
“Or have you still not understood who you really are, my son?”
A wagon rattles across the cobblestones of the small town of Knittlingen, the horse lame and the wheels squeaking. In a cage beneath the canopy at the front sit an old raven and two crows, staring maliciously from small red eyes at
