Unless we have a valuable hostage.
With an angry scream, the giant hurled himself at his enemies. He cut down the first one with two mighty strokes and tossed the next one off the bridge.
Then Hagen stormed toward the tower that most likely contained the doctor.
Down in the dungeon, Greta stared at the slimy green mold on the opposite wall, breathing in the smell of feces and rot. Karl had tried to speak with her several times since they were brought down here, but Greta had put up an invisible wall around herself. She still couldn’t believe she could have been so wrong. The man she had loved and desired was a traitor. He had only used her to get his hands on her father. All his love, charm, and wit, all his affection, had been nothing but an act. She felt incredibly stupid and at the same time awfully empty. It was as if someone had ripped out her heart. How could she have trusted John? She should have known in the port of Amboise, when he disappeared so suddenly. But her stupid feelings had been stronger.
The three of them cowered on bug-ridden straw inside a circular shaft below Coudray Tower. Countless notches and scratched sketches served as reminders of the hundreds of prisoners who had been detained here over the centuries, including powerful men like the former grand master of the Templars of France. Well above their heads there was a door in the wall. The ladder they had climbed down—Johann with his one good arm and Karl’s help—had been taken away by the guards. It was damp in the tower and as icy as the deepest winter, but Greta didn’t feel the cold. Anger burned hotly inside her.
Next to her, Karl coughed. He was sitting opposite her father, who also hadn’t spoken since they had been brought down here. He kept his eyes closed, like he often did when he was concentrating.
“Believe me, Greta, I trusted him, too,” said Karl with a sad smile. His voice echoed through the shaft as if they were sitting at the bottom of a deep well. “He was so handsome and charismatic. No need to beat yourself up. I honestly thought—”
Greta shut him up with a wave of her hand.
“It won’t help if you—” tried Karl once more.
“Leave her be,” said Johann tiredly. “It will take some time for her to recover from this. No amount of talking is going to help. And besides, I should have been more careful, too. At least now I understand why the dog didn’t sound the alarm in the woods—John lured him away. The fellow struck me as suspicious from the start. But for my daughter it had to be true love.”
“Oh, shut up, Father,” snapped Greta. “What do you know of love? The only woman you ever loved died at the stake because of you. Don’t you dare talk to me about love.”
Johann was about to reply but then changed his mind. Greta wondered if she’d gone too far. Her father suddenly looked terribly old and tired.
“Let’s not talk about it anymore,” he said at last, his face ashen, his head tilted to one side. “We should be thinking about the king’s demand. I have no idea what to do. I can’t make gold—that’s utter nonsense!”
“And yet on his deathbed Leonardo da Vinci spoke of a secret that you know,” said Karl. “What did he mean?”
“How many more times do I have to say it, damn it? I don’t know!” Faust slammed his fist against the mold-covered wall. “The last time I was with him, he seemed confused, muttering as if he were in the grip of a fever. He said the greatest secrets were hidden at the innermost core. The innermost—that’s what he stressed several times. But I haven’t got the faintest clue what he meant by that.” He sighed. “Even if Leonardo intended to give me a message with those words, I have no idea what he was trying to tell me. And besides, I wouldn’t know why he would do such a thing.”
“Because he considered you his equal,” said Karl. “Perhaps he mentioned you in his will?”
“I don’t think in the usual sense, or else the king would know.” Johann pressed his lips together. “I’ve been racking my brain over Leonardo’s words, but I can’t figure them out. And as long as I don’t, we will rot down here. The king made himself very clear. The only good news is that I’ll probably spoil Francis’s fun by croaking beforehand.”
“Has the paralysis grown worse?” asked Greta. She wanted to think of something other than John’s treason. She did have other problems, after all. The lines in her father’s palm suggested that his death wasn’t far off.
Perhaps the time has come, she thought.
“I’m no longer thinking of myself, Greta,” said her father in a low and depressed voice. “I’m thinking of you.”
“How . . . how do you mean?”
Before Johann could answer, they heard a noise from upstairs. Greta listened. Were the guards coming already to fetch her father for torture? But the noise sounded different. She frowned.
They could hear men shouting, weapons clanking, and a dull thumping. The noise grew louder, and moments later the door above them creaked open. When Greta looked up, she beheld the face of the man she despised the most.
It was the face of John Reed.
He was breathless and sweaty, blood dripping from the sword in his hand.
“You need to get out of here, quickly,” he gasped, pushing the wooden ladder down to them.
“What’s this about?” asked Greta coldly. “If you think I will follow you anywhere—”
“There’s no time for explanations, damn it!” shouted John. “All hell has broken loose out here. If you three want to survive the next few minutes, you must do exactly as I tell you!”
The ladder hit the floor and Karl reached for it, casting a suspicious glance at John. “Is
