“It’s better if you don’t know,” replied Karl glumly. “Trust me. We oughtn’t speak about the time in Nuremberg.”
“Yes, that is what the doctor and you are best at,” said Greta bitterly. “Not speaking about things. And even now you don’t want to see the truth: the doctor is in grave danger and I think he’s going to die. Something indescribably evil is reaching for him—I can feel it!”
“And I say that nothing is proven,” Karl retorted. “I am a scientist, Greta—I don’t believe in witches, sorcery, and the devil’s handiwork, nor that one can foresee someone’s death in the palm of their hand. Not as long as—”
He broke off when a shadow fell on them both. They looked up and saw a huge, armored mercenary with a sword on his back gazing down at them.
“Are you the servants of Doctor Faustus?” asked the giant. He spoke with the harsh accent of the Swiss confederates.
Greta nodded.
“Then follow me, quickly. Your master needs you.” The huge man let out a growl that made him sound like a bear. “If it isn’t too late, damn it.”
Greta hurried after Karl and the soldier through the corridors of Altenburg Castle.
She feared the worst had already happened.
They ran up the stairs to the tower room as fast as they could. When they arrived at the top, breathing hard, Greta saw to her surprise that the door was barred from the outside.
“You locked the doctor in?” she asked the soldier as she struggled to catch her breath. “Why?”
The giant man didn’t reply and unlocked the door. The room on the other side was dim, the only light coming from a few candles on a sideboard. Faust was lying on the floor among his books, some of them torn to shreds. He was twitching and squirming as if a hundred invisible devils were tugging at him. Saliva and vomit trickled from his mouth as he slurred incomprehensible sounds.
“Jesus!” cried Greta, rushing to the doctor’s side. “What happened?”
“How should I know? I found him like that.” The soldier gave a shrug as he eyed the doctor like a squashed beetle. “If you ask me, I’d say your master is possessed by the devil or some sort of demon. But one thing I know for certain: if he kicks the bucket now, my master, the papal representative, won’t be pleased at all. And he’ll take it out on all of us. So do something!”
“He’ll choke on his vomit if we don’t help him soon.” Karl knelt down and held Faust while Greta cleaned out his mouth, muttering softly as if soothing a child. Johann was still shaking, his head jerking from side to side. But the twitching gradually eased, and his head came to rest.
“At first I thought he was just putting it on when I heard the racket,” grumbled the big man. “But then it got worse. So I thought I better fetch help.”
“What is all this about?” demanded Karl, pointing at the exit. “Who are you and why was the door locked?”
“It’s . . . it’s all right,” said the doctor feebly. “I . . . I’m better now.” He was lying on his back, his face deathly white. The fit seemed to have passed. He looked at the mercenary. “Please leave us now, Hagen.”
The giant hesitated for a moment, then he walked out and closed the door behind him, the bolt crashing shut loudly. Karl moved as if to protest, but Faust held him back. “Leave it. I . . . I can explain everything. Please help me sit up.”
Together they lifted Faust like an old man and sat him on a stool. It was strange for Greta to see the doctor weakened like this. She had only ever known him strong and resilient in both body and mind. Nothing could stop him—whatever he wanted to achieve, he would achieve. And now he sat slumped on the stool like a puppet whose strings had been cut. At least his eyes looked a little livelier; his strength seemed to return.
Greta shuddered. Faust truly had looked as if he were possessed by the devil. Could it be possible? She thought about the shaking she had observed in recent weeks, and also about the dark, evil something she’d seen in his hand. She decided not to mention her nightly palm reading—she was much too afraid there was indeed an evil force that had grabbed hold of the doctor.
It was freezing cold in the doctor’s chamber, and Greta thought once more she could smell sulfur, like earlier on with that strange French ambassador. She shivered as she looked to the window and the dark night beyond. A black shadow drifted past, like the wings of a gigantic, monstrous bird.
Now you’re seeing ghosts.
“What happened?” she asked gently while Karl took the doctor’s pulse and patted dry his forehead. “It wasn’t the first time, was it?”
Johann moaned. “I should have known that you’d notice.” He tried to smile. “Can’t hide anything from a woman.”
“I noticed, too,” said Karl. “The shaking, worse at nights. At first I thought it was the booze, but this . . .” He shook his head. “Hmm, it could be the falling sickness, or Saint Anthony’s fire, or—”
“Don’t you think I haven’t tried to figure out what’s ailing me, damn it?” snarled Johann. “I read through dozens of books, but my symptoms don’t match anything I could find in the usual works.”
“And how long has this been going on?” asked Greta.
“About half a year.”
Once more Greta got the feeling that he was keeping something from her.
Johann closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “But that’s not the worst part.”
“Not the worst part?” Karl gave a desperate chuckle. “I can’t imagine what might be worse than what we just witnessed.”
“I am to be taken to the pope as a sorcerer,” said Faust. “That’s why the giant is standing outside the door, and that’s why the door
