“And I thought you were somewhere on the Atlantic with your boat, en route to God-knows-where.” Greta crossed her arms. “After our abrupt goodbye two weeks ago, I came back to the harbor like we’d agreed. But you weren’t there.”
“We . . . we must have missed each other,” he said evasively. “I had to be somewhere. Business has been going poorly.”
“So poorly that you take off without a word? I haven’t seen your boat anywhere. And now you’re here at a church service. Are you praying for better weather?”
“My men and I, we . . .” John hesitated. “We had differing views of where business was going from here. And so we went our separate ways.”
“The crew took your ship and left you behind? You can tell that to your hussies and whores at the port. How dumb do you think I am?”
“How dumb do you think I am?” John glowered at her. “You told me you were simple pilgrims on your way to Fontevrault Abbey. And then I find out that in truth, the man claiming to be your father is a magician, astrologer, and alchemist famous far beyond the borders of the German Empire. And then you take up lodgings at Leonardo da Vinci’s.”
“I see you’ve been busy.” Greta took a step toward John and gave him a hard look. Apparently John didn’t know that she really was Johann’s daughter; her father had told no one but Leonardo. But he seemed well informed about everything else. “You’ve been watching me—admit it! What are you up to? Why are you spying on me?”
John opened his mouth, about to say something, but then he dropped his arms. “What the hell. I’ll just tell you. It would have come out sooner or later.”
Greta stepped even closer to him. Strangely enough, she wasn’t afraid; not of John. “Tell me.”
He gestured toward the weathered stone steps in front of the church. Most churchgoers were on their way back to town; only a few older women still stood near the entrance, leading hushed conversations. No one took any notice of the young couple. Greta hesitated briefly, then she shuffled away from John and sat down on the cool, hard stone.
John began awkwardly. “We . . . we never intended to take you all the way to Amboise.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Well, you must understand that we’re not merchants as such, but . . . but . . .” John kneaded his hands. “Well, people who don’t take the burden of taxation too seriously.”
“You are smugglers?” asked Greta, astonished.
“A harsh term.” John lifted his hands, seeming almost offended. “All we do is bypass the staple right. By law, all ships must offer their wares for sale at each larger town along the Loire and also pay taxes. Our wares, however, go straight to the Atlantic and are therefore much cheaper.” He winked at Greta. “Our cozy little Étoile de Mer is larger than she looks. She has a pretty fat belly.”
“Then why did you take us?”
“When I saw the three of you at Orléans, I thought you could be milked. Do you understand? Simple pilgrims, ha!” John gave a laugh. “I never believed you for a moment but thought instead that you were rich merchants with some kind of highly precious freight sewn into your garments, like jewels or pearls, something like that. We were going to clean you out at Blois and set off before dawn, but then . . .” He broke off.
“What happened then?” asked Greta.
“That night with you, damn it . . . Nothing like it ever happened to me before. I plead guilty, Greta.” John paused and looked down. “Guilty of falling in love with you.”
She flushed and her heart began to race.
John edged a little closer, and Greta suddenly felt hot. She should be angry with him—she should have slapped the faithless bastard and walked away. But she couldn’t. Greta smelled smoke, wine, and tangy sweat as if he hadn’t washed in a while. But, strangely, that didn’t bother her. On the contrary.
“Yes, I’ve fallen head over heels in love with you,” he continued softly. “I still can’t believe it. Up in the castle gardens at Blois I felt like I was struck by lightning. And then . . . and then everything changed. I asked my men to hold off on the robbery. I needed time—time to figure out how it would go with . . . with the two of us. But then your father up and departed with no warning and you left me standing in the port like a dumb ox. We argued. My men were angry because they hadn’t received their fair share. I went and got as drunk as a lord while those goddamn bastards took off with the ship and left me behind. Since then I’ve been stuck at Amboise. And . . . and . . .”
“You’ve been following me, haven’t you?” said Greta. “That’s how you know where we’re staying.”
John lifted a hand. “Guilty as charged,” he said again. A little embarrassed, he ran his hand through his tousled red hair. “Although that part wasn’t hard to find out. Half the town is talking about the famous Doctor Faustus lodging at Leonardo da Vinci’s. Several times I came close to speaking to you, but I was afraid you would send me away. Because you found out what a piece of scum I am.” Suddenly he looked up and spoke with a firm voice. “No more lies, Greta. I stand before you as a smuggler, a thief, and a fool who is hopelessly in love with you.”
“Things would have been a little easier if you’d told me all of this sooner,” she replied gruffly. But she felt her wall crumble. This was like a dream that was too good to be true—Greta only hoped no one would wake her.
“By the way, you looked gorgeous at mass just
