John gave a dismissive wave. “Tonio or not—you need help. I know the area and I know how to defend myself. The dog alone won’t save you.” He grinned. “And by the looks of it, you don’t get a choice.”
“Then so be it, damn it all. I can hardly tie you both down.” Johann wagged a finger. “But don’t you think for a moment that I will pay you.”
John smiled with his white teeth and placed his arm firmly around Greta’s shoulders. “Don’t you worry, Doctor. Your daughter’s love is payment enough.”
Act III
The Ogre’s Cave
11
IN THE WOODS, SOUTH OF THE LOIRE
MAY, AD 1519
A SMALL GROUP OF TRAVELERS MOVED STEADILY TO THE southwest through dark oak and chestnut forests.
Walking at the front was a handsome young man who, despite his plain pilgrim’s garb, appeared learned, like a student or a magister of the liberal arts. He leafed through a book as he walked, balancing some newfangled eye glasses on his nose. Following one step behind was a young woman, her hair modestly hidden beneath a bonnet except for the few unruly strands that insisted on falling into her face. At first glance she appeared to be a pious pilgrim, but a closer inspection revealed a powerful, muscular body and a proud bearing resembling that of a countess. Riding on a donkey behind them was a stooped older man, evidently the father of the two unlike siblings. A strongly built red-haired fellow formed the rear guard, a long knife and a sack dangling from his belt. He seemed to be the family’s hired guard. A huge black dog darted through the thicket.
A soft whistle rang out. Greta looked back and saw that John was asking the group to stop. The Scotsman pointed at Little Satan, who was emerging from the underbrush with a fat pheasant in his mouth; the dog placed it on the ground in front of John. The bird still flapped a little, so John picked it up and wrung its neck with a swift movement.
“My compliments on your dog. He hunts better than any terrier.” John laughed as he stuffed the pheasant into the full sack. “Three rabbits and now this in one day—the black devil truly is an outstanding huntsman.” He winked at Greta. “Better than our young scholar, who’s more likely to stumble over a rabbit while he studies his books.” He gave Karl a mocking grin. “Is that perhaps because of those round things in front of your eyes?”
“These round things, as you call them, help me to excel in other areas,” retorted Karl. “Not everyone is a born hunter. And since we are supposed to be a group of pilgrims, it probably doesn’t hurt if at least one of us makes a contemplative impression instead of murdering animals all day long.”
Greta smirked. John and Karl taunting each other had become a normal part of their daily routine. Greta suspected that they liked each other well enough, even if Karl was possibly a little envious. John was everything Karl was not: manly, loud, and hands-on, while Karl possessed a higher education and tact, which John lacked. Greta loved them both, but John was the man she desired.
She still didn’t fully understand why John had offered to accompany her father. She thought it must be his sense of honor that forbade him from letting a sick old man who happened to be the father of his beloved walk into the wilderness by himself. And she, too, had realized that she wasn’t ready to leave Johann.
I also want to find out the truth about Tonio. Because Tonio is part of my life, too.
Greta groaned and pushed her hands into her lower back; they’d been walking all day. “Do we have to camp in the woods again tonight?” she asked tiredly.
“We’ll see.” John moved his head from side to side. “There aren’t a lot of inns around here. But I’m hoping we’ll find one tomorrow night. There is a pilgrims’ hostel at Azay-le-Rideau.”
“I told you we should have gone by boat,” said Johann grumpily. He swayed back and forth on his donkey like a sack of flour. “It would have been much more pleasant. And at Tours—”
“They would have already been expecting the honorable doctor,” said John. “The traders, at the very least, will all know by now that the famous Doctor Faustus is visiting the beautiful Loire Valley. Perhaps you shouldn’t have been quite so loudmouthed outside Leonardo’s house at Amboise—especially in front of a bunch of fellow travelers. But it’s too late to cry about that now. If we want to stand a chance of remaining unrecognized, then we must travel through the woods. And that is what you want—to stay unrecognized—isn’t it?”
Johann said nothing, and Greta could tell by his face that he knew very well John was right, even if he didn’t want to admit it. The doctor had traveled to many places before, but this area was completely new to him. Johann was well aware of the dangers lurking in the woods along the Loire, even with Little Satan at their side. John’s protection was necessary.
Greta had told her father and Karl about John’s real profession, which didn’t particularly improve Johann’s opinion of his daughter’s lover. And yet the two men had formed a sort of truce, probably in part because Johann didn’t want to spoil things between him and his daughter. But it was clear to see what he thought of Greta’s relationship with John. Even now, on this arduous and perhaps final journey together, the doctor visibly struggled to accept that his daughter had found her love. During the evenings by the campfire, especially, he sometimes failed to swallow back a nasty comment, which had led to more than one argument between him and Greta.
They had been traveling through the forests of France for over a week now, always in the direction of Tiffauges. They spent some nights at inns and others in
