The Beggar King

it toward the stranger.

With a dull thud the heavy figurine struck him on the back of the head.

The man reeled, flailing his arms, then crashed to the floor like a fallen angel. He lay there so long Magdalena thought he might even be dead, but moments later he struggled to his feet again, breathing heavily. Like a drunk, he reached for his rapier, staggered, and tried to find something to hold on to. In this manner he made his way step by step down the center aisle. Even disoriented he somehow seemed as dangerous as ever.

Simon and Magdalena were about to run after him when they heard someone moaning nearby. Silvio. The Venetian seemed more seriously injured than it first appeared. He was bleeding from his left arm and chest, and a bright red gash ran across his right cheek. He struggled to get up, panting, but then tipped back over on his side and lay motionless on the floor.

“My God, Silvio!” Magdalena rushed to the ambassador. For a moment Simon was tempted to pursue the stranger, but the man had already disappeared, and all Simon could see was the fog creeping in through the open church portal.

“Grazie,” Silvio gasped. He leaned against the sarcophagus, breathing heavily. “If you hadn’t thrown that statue, then…”

“I owed you a dress,” Magdalena said, inspecting the Venetian’s wounds. “Let’s just call it even.”

“What kind of a dress?” Simon asked with some irritation as he stepped out from behind the column. “What’s this Venetian got to do with your dress?”

Magdalena sighed. “It’s not what you think. He gave me-”

“I lent her a gown from my dressing room to wear to the ball,” Silvio interrupted, struggling to his feet and wiping blood from his face with a white lace handkerchief. “She looked positively charming in it, a real principessa!”

Simon raised his eyebrows. “A gown to wear to the ball. I see. You didn’t tell me about that, principessa.”

“Damn it all,” Magdalena cursed. “Because it wasn’t important!” Her voice was so loud it echoed throughout the cathedral. “There are murderers running around in here, my father will probably be drawn and quartered, and you have nothing better to do than act like a spoiled, jealous child!”

“Me, jealous? Ridiculous.” Simon, affecting a hurt expression, ran his hand through his hair. “A man should at least be allowed a question when he learns his girl has been out tarting herself up for strangers in some foreigner’s dressing room.”

That was the last straw. “Tarting?” she snapped. “You’re one to talk, you dandy!” Her voice cracked with emotion. “And just what do you mean by girl? Not once have I heard a proposal from you. Only excuses, excuses! When have you ever given me a dress, or even a lousy engagement ribbon, huh? I’d let that pass, but now, you little overeducated wimp, you want to tell me- me-how to live my life! Get away, you wretch!”

Her final words echoed through the cathedral, then faded into an awkward silence.

Simon bowed stiffly. “I understand. I wish you both a pleasant good evening.” He turned on his heels and headed toward the main portal, where the priest had just arrived to prepare for morning prayers. Leaving the cathedral with his head held high, Simon stumbled on the door frame and had to grab the astonished priest to keep from falling.

“Someone back there is in need of confession, Father,” the medicus said. “Pride and wrath, two mortal sins. Don’t let the lady go until she recites the Lord’s Prayer a hundred times.”

Before the startled priest could reply, Simon disappeared into the foggy night.

Back in the niche, Silvio sighed and looked up to the ceiling. “O Invidia!” he lamented. “Your amico is jealous. That’s not what I intended.”

“Oh, don’t worry; he’ll come back down from his high horse,” Magdalena said, but there was a twinge of doubt in her voice. Perhaps she’d gone a bit too far. She knew that Simon suffered from not being able to offer her the life they both longed for.

“He’s probably waiting for us right outside the door,” she said, trying to console herself. “Why don’t you tell me what in the world you came looking for here in the church? You haven’t been stalking me, have you?”

Silvio shook his head in horror. “Madonna! Never would I do anything like that! I was following that man! I was coming home from the Whale when I saw him sneak across the square in front of the cathedral-the same man who ambushed us before! So I followed him and-well, you know the rest.” He smiled. “You see, it’s really up to you to explain what you’re doing here. By the way, it was disgraceful how you abandoned me at that boring soiree. In return you should at least offer me another invitation.” His eyes started to glaze over and he reached for his left arm. Only now did Magdalena notice that Silvio’s shirt was drenched in blood.

“Oh, God, with all this fuss, I completely forgot you’re injured!” she exclaimed. “Quick, I’ll take you to Simon. He’ll-”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Silvio lamented as he leaned against a column for support. His face was as pale as a ghost. “No doubt your amico would let enough blood from me to paint the whole cathedral.”

Magdalena smiled. “You might be right about that. Well, then, I’ll have to see to your wounds myself. Let’s go-fortunately your house is just across the way.”

She supported Silvio under his arms as they left.

“What a wonderful feeling to be carried by you,” the little Venetian rejoiced. “I hope to require your help a long time.”

“Stop talking such nonsense,” Magdalena replied sharply. “A few bandages and herbs from the market to stanch the bleeding, and you’ll be your old self again. The wounds aren’t as bad as I thought. Now quit making such a fuss and try walking a bit. You men are all such sissies!”

Cursing under his breath, Simon stomped across the cathedral square, nearly swallowed up in the fog that had descended over the city in the last hour. In vain he looked for Nathan, who was supposed to have been waiting there for them. Had the beggar king secretly run off?

Simon didn’t dare call out, so he just quietly looked about the square, then slipped away into the first small street he came to. He had to clear his head! Just what was the matter with him? He’d lost control of himself, and now Magdalena really believed he was jealous.

And worse: this Venetian fool thought so as well.

With a deep sigh, Simon had to admit that his jealousy was not entirely imagined. Contarini had more possessions than Simon could ever dream of as a poor medicus-money, fine clothes, influence, power… things Simon would never be able to offer Magdalena. Without a single certificate from a recognized university, he was just an insignificant quack. And now that he’d fled Schongau, he’d lost whatever respectability he had left!

Simon looked down at himself. His jacket and shirt were mud-stained and torn; he had no money and was sleeping in dank basements with beggars; and his girl was spending her time in the dressing rooms of foreign men to whom he’d never be able to hold a candle.

This was the end.

Simon was so distressed he didn’t notice the two guards armed with spears until he literally stumbled into them.

“Well, well, who do we have here?” one guard sneered, grabbing Simon by the scruff of the neck like a naughty child. “A night owl, eh? Don’t you know it’s forbidden to go out in the streets at night? And right now I think it’s about…” He and his colleague pretended to look up in the sky for the moon. “Well, let’s just say it’s not a good time for you to be out here, eh?”

Simon nodded respectfully, trying desperately to think of a way out of this situation. He had to assume all the guards had received descriptions of the alleged arsonists. And though this pair hadn’t recognized him yet, that could change at any moment.

“Went down by the river for a drink,” he slurred, in the hope the two guards would be fooled by his affectation. “It jush got a lil bit late…”

“Speak up,” the second night watchman said threateningly as he held a lantern in his face and sized him up distrustfully. “For people like you we have a nice little pub room. A bit drafty, but it’ll clear your head fast.”

He gave Simon a shove, and they all set out toward city hall square, the medicus attempting to stumble along