The Beggar King

plans, not even your men over there, will you let us go?” he asked hesitantly.

Silvio shrugged, absent-mindedly toying with the rings on his fingers. “We’ll see about that. First you can tell me what you think I’m up to. If the story you’ve concocted amuses me, I might let you go. Who’d believe a suspected arsonist, anyway?”

Simon swallowed hard, then, in a soft voice, began: “In a few months the Reichstag will meet in Regensburg. Representatives from across the German Empire will travel here-princes, dukes, bishops, perhaps even the kaiser. The most powerful men in the land will convene, making Regensburg the ideal place to inflict damage on the German Empire. You won’t find such a collection of noblemen anywhere else in the world.”

“Not bad,” Silvio whispered. “Go on…”

“The bathhouse owner Andreas Hofmann was experimenting with an especially pure ergot in his secret workshop,” Simon hurried on. “In the courtyard behind the bathhouse we found row after row of pots filled with soil. You probably leased fields outside the city, where you transferred this fungus from Hofmann’s garden on a massive scale. You milled the grain here and stockpiled the flour in sacks.” By the look on Silvio’s face Simon could tell he was right. “The master baker, Haberger, is the sole supplier to the old city hall, where the Reichstag will convene, and I assume he was supposed to bake the poisoned flour into bread. But then Haberger got cold feet and had to be eliminated…” Simon frowned. “But now you’ve lost your means of making bread from the flour and of delivering it to the conference-but surely you’ve thought up something else by now.”

“Haberger’s son is perfectly clueless,” Silvio replied. “We’ll offer him the flour at such a good price he’ll be unable to refuse.”

Simon nodded. “And so your poisoned bread will make its way at last onto the plates of the noblemen and ambassadors, after all. At each meal they’ll ingest a bit more of the ergot. The consequences will be dire! Hundreds will turn stark raving mad. They’ll stagger through the streets in a state of rapture, plagued by visions and terrible nightmares. Negotiations will be impossible, and it’s likely most of the emissaries will leave the city in a panic. The entire Reichstag will be thrown into chaos and brought to a standstill!”

“And thus the German Empire, as well. Bravissimo!” Silvio clapped loudly, genuine enthusiasm on his powdered face. “My compliments! What splendid work! It’s too bad, you know-in another life, at another time, we might have made very good use of someone like you.” He spoke the last words somewhat regretfully. “You would have made an excellent agent, just like Heinrich von Butten. What a waste! He, too, unfortunately chose the wrong side.”

“Heinrich von Butten?” Simon asked in confusion. “I don’t understand…”

“The baldheaded assassin,” Magdalena interrupted. “He was an agent of the kaiser!” She sighed. “He probably wanted to warn me all along about this scheming dwarf. Silvio killed him this morning.”

Simon opened his eyes wide. “But that means that Paulus Mamminger…”

“He’s a well-behaved little patrician in cahoots with the kaiser trying to cut us off.” Silvio nodded. “But he had only suspicions, nothing more. Heinrich von Butten was trying to learn more about our plans.”

Magdalena’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you? The devil? Who else comes up with a plan as demonic as yours, to drive an entire city to the brink of madness?”

The Venetian was silent, but Simon picked up the thread. “Why don’t you just come out with it, then? Why so coy? It’s obvious anyway.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” replied Silvio, still playing with his rings.

“Then let me guess, if I may,” said Simon. “You’re working on behalf of the Turkish Grand Vizier. The Ottoman Empire is, after all, the greatest threat to the German Empire.”

“Of course!” Magdalena cried out. “Mamminger told me himself at the ball at Heuport House that the kaiser intends to collect money at the upcoming Reichstag to arm the Germanic lands against the Turks. If the Reichstag dissolves into madness, the Grand Vizier will have an easy time of it.”

The Venetian’s expression told them they were both correct.

“What a dastardly plan,” the medicus said, impressed. “The city hall, where the negotiations take place, is heavily guarded, but no one would give a second thought to the bread-why would they? The Reichstag would collapse in chaos, all to the advantage of the Turkish Empire.” He pointed at the raftsmen, who were still wholeheartedly absorbed in their bottle of brandy. “You make fools of your cronies here and pretend to be the bold defender of the poor. I’m sure you’ve made them promises of heaven on earth. The Venetian ambassador, a freeman-what a joke! Nobody must have the slightest suspicion of your connection with the Grand Vizier. Isn’t that so?”

The ambassador’s lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line, just the hint of a smile playing across them.

Simon turned to Magdalena. “Have you noticed how our dear little Venetian can suddenly speak perfect unaccented German? All along he’s been playing the part of the clumsy, innocent, love-struck Silvio, and you fell for it! He may be the official ambassador from Venice, but clearly he’s working for more than one side!”

Silvio drew his rapier with a soft whoosh and ran it lightly across Simon’s throat.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t slaughter you like a pig right here and now!” he hissed. “Nobody’s going to listen to your cute little conspiracy theories. Not even the raftsmen right over there! So tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now.”

“Kill me as you did the bathhouse owner, his wife, the baker, the bishop’s brewmaster, and all the others?” Simon gasped, his eyes fixed on the point of the sword at his throat.

Silvio’s eyes glassed over. “The… brewmaster?” His voice was suddenly uncertain. “Maledizione!” he growled. “That was someone else. And the other murders, too.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. “I never should have gotten involved with that one. He’s the reason my entire plan is in danger! The fool! He could have lived out his life in the lap of luxury, but he acted impetuously!” Silvio spat angrily on the ground, and his makeup began to run, revealing a face full of hatred beneath.

Simon held his breath.

So there was someone else…

Someone else who was responsible for killing Magdalena’s aunt and uncle, someone involved in Silvio’s plans! Someone who had been doing Silvio’s dirty work. Who? Was it the same man who wanted revenge on Magdalena’s father? Evidently the Venetian was clueless about what had happened in the bishop’s palace the night before. Feverishly, Simon tried to think of a way to use this knowledge to his advantage.

The little ambassador turned to Simon once more, letting the point of his sword wander slowly across his prisoner’s chest. “All right, then, I’ll worry about that later. I’ll attend to you first, you little quack, too smart for your own good!”

“The city council knows about this,” Simon gasped suddenly.

Pausing, Silvio looked down at his victim with pity. “You’re lying; this is just a cheap trick to prolong your pathetic life a few moments.”

Simon shook his head desperately. This was his last chance. If the Venetian saw through him now, he’d slit him from belly to throat like livestock in a slaughterhouse. Then he’d force Magdalena to eat the ergot.

“Then how do you think I know so much about your plans?” Simon said as self-assured as possible, his voice as solid and regular as a well-oiled clock. “Your irascible crony broke into the bishop’s residence last night. He murdered the brewmaster, then was captured by the guards. He confessed everything on the rack! I listened through the door but ran off before the others because I feared for Magdalena’s life.” He grinned broadly at the ambassador. “In half an hour or less the city guards will be knocking down the door, and then, by God, your entire plan will go up in smoke!”

It was such a bald-faced lie even Simon didn’t think he’d get away with it. Yet the Venetian hesitated.

“Even if that were true,” Silvio said at last, “what reason would that be to let you live?”

“I can divert the guards!” Simon sputtered. “I’ll go to city hall and tell them you’re already half crazed from the ergot and holding Magdalena hostage. If it works, you can let her go.”

Clearly the Venetian would never let them both go at the same time, but this just might buy Simon some time until he could come up with something better. At least now Silvio had sheathed his rapier and seemed to seriously consider the offer.

“So they’ve caught him…” Silvio said, more to himself than to anyone in particular, shaking his head, clearly still undecided about what to do next. Finally he spoke. “What you’ve described is entirely possible. He has been my