“By whom?”
Jaspar looked at him. “Can’t you guess?”
“Conrad?”
“Who else? Conrad’s ultimate aim was to reestablish the absolute power of the archbishop, but he went about it in a roundabout way, initially cooperating with the citizens and confirming their privileges. This lasted until he opposed the emperor and, in agreement with the pope, arranged the election of an anti-king. Cologne had always been loyal to the emperor, hardly surprising since he guaranteed its economic privileges and stability. Then, although he had recognized the city’s right to mint its own currency, Conrad suddenly brought out a coin of his own. It wasn’t worth much, but it bore his image, the vain bastard. Not content with that, he set up new customs barriers, although it didn’t lie within his powers and hit Cologne’s trade where it hurt. The city protested. Conrad, unimpressed, gathered an army and besieged it. To no avail, however, since it now had its splendid walls. He had to agree to a court of arbitration under Albertus Magnus, who found against Conrad on all counts.”
“The Lesser Adjudication,” Richmodis murmured.
“Yes! Conrad had to cancel all the disputed measures. A farce! Five years later he started a new dispute when he accused the citizens of Cologne of having planned to assassinate him—”
“And had they?” Jacob asked.
Jaspar grinned. “Who knows? Three years ago the Kleingedancks attacked one of his relatives. Right outside his palace! While he was inside dispensing justice. It was a private feud, but Conrad presented it as an attempt on his life. So we had another war, which the patricians won, and another defeat for the archbishop. Then—”
“Richmodis!” It was Kuno whispering. All heads swung around. With great effort Kuno had raised himself a little. He was deathly pale.
Richmodis jumped up and went to support him.
“He should be lying down,” said Jaspar.
Goddert smacked his lips a few times, cleared his throat, and opened his eyes. “What’s going on?” he asked.
No one took any notice. They were standing around Kuno as Jaspar wiped the sweat from his brow. “Relax,” he said. “You’re safe here.”
Kuno shook his head feebly. “No one’s safe.” His eyelids fluttered.
“Water,” Jaspar commanded. He gently slapped Kuno’s cheeks. “We don’t want to lose him again.”
“The alliance—” Kuno breathed.
Richmodis hurried over with a damp cloth and Jaspar wiped Kuno’s face. He was seized with a fit of coughing, then sank back, breathing heavily.
“Tell us about the alliance,” said Jaspar urgently.
“It’s too late.”
“It can’t be too late as long as your lot are trying to kill us.”
“Not me.” Kuno’s chest was heaving, as if he couldn’t get his breath. “I’ve broken with them. I want the alliance to end. It—it is wrong.”
“Gerhard’s words!” exclaimed Jacob.
“It is wrong.”
“Who was in the alliance?” Jaspar asked.
They waited. For a while it seemed as if Kuno had fallen asleep again. Then they heard his hoarse voice. “Heinrich von Mainz—”
“Married to Sophia Overstolz,” Jaspar added. “The Overstolzes again.”
“My brothers, Bruno and Hermann.”
“Both in exile.”
“Johann and Daniel—and Matthias Overstolz—and… and Theoderich—”
“So we were right. Anyone else?”
“Leave me alone. I’m tired. I—”
“Who?” Jaspar shouted. He took Kuno by the shoulders and started to shake him. Kuno groaned. Jacob grabbed Jaspar’s wrists and pulled him away.
“Sorry.” Jaspar rubbed his eyes.
“The witch,” Kuno panted.
“Witch?”
“Blithildis. The witch. The blind witch.”
Jaspar looked around, dumbfounded. “Blithildis Overstolz,” he whispered. “My God, what on earth do you intend to do?”
“It was her idea.” Kuno was having difficulty getting the words out. “All her idea. Cursed be that evening when we were sitting together in Rheingasse. We were going to celebrate. Enjoy ourselves—oh, God—water, I’m thirsty—so thirsty.”
They handed him a mug and waited until he had drunk. It was a long time.
“We had concluded a couple of good deals,” Kuno went on, his voice stronger, “the Overstolzes, the von Mainzes, and—”
“Yes? Go on.”
“—and me. Deals with the English. And Johann—it was for Blithildis, to cheer her up. He said it was so long since she had been in company, sitting in her room all the time like the living dead, since God had taken her sight. I asked if I might bring Gerhard, he—he was my only friend. We were sitting there, drinking our wine when—when Blithildis suddenly sent the servants away and started to speak, full of hatred, laughing, crying, sobbing until she put a spell on us and blinded us too with bloody thoughts, and it was the evil from her lips that made us join in and—and Gerhard said—”
“What, for God’s sake? He said it was wrong, didn’t he?”
Kuno’s features contorted, as if he wanted to cry but couldn’t. “It was so sad. He tried to make us change our minds and we begged him to join us. Johann said he would respect Gerhard’s honest opinion as long as he would swear to remain silent.”
“And Gerhard. Could he do that?”
Kuno shook his head disconsolately. “He didn’t know what to do. He owed everything to the Church, but he would have had to betray his friends to—can’t you see, he had no choice?” Kuno held Jaspar tight, looking at him beseechingly, as if he could turn back the clock. “Whatever he did, in his own eyes it would have been betrayal. His honesty killed him. I pleaded with the others to trust him, without even knowing myself whether we could. He knew everything. What could have come over Blithildis, to imagine she could persuade Gerhard, the cathedral architect, to join in her plan?”
“What plan, Kuno?” asked Jaspar breathlessly.
Kuno seemed not to hear. He stared vacantly into space. Then his grasp loosed, he let go of Jaspar and sank back. “Finally we brought in Urquhart,” he whispered. “We clubbed together and brought the Devil to the city.”
“Urquhart?”
“He costs a pretty penny, does the Devil.” Kuno gave a coarse laugh. “William of Jülich recommended someone who’d been recommended to him. A man who kills for money. That’s all anyone knew about him. We assumed Urquhart was a hired killer, but—”
“Who killed Gerhard? Was it Urquhart?”
Kuno nodded. “Urquhart. Slaughters whatever’s in his way. A butcher. A fiend. The Berlich whore, the beggar, the two monks—”
“Monks?”
“His—witnesses.”
Jaspar threw Jacob a quick glance. “Kuno,” he said, “what is Urquhart going to do? What is the aim of the alliance? Answer me, for pity’s sake, answer me.”
But Kuno had fallen asleep.
Goddert looked around helplessly. “Should I—”
“No,” said Jaspar, “we’ll let him rest awhile. He needs sleep, there’s nothing I can do about that.”
“What time is it?” asked Richmodis.
“I don’t know. At a guess, shortly after midnight.”
“I’m bloody cold,” moaned Goddert.
“Don’t worry,” said Jaspar, “I imagine things will heat up in the course of the night.”
MATTHIAS
Johann was getting weak. None of the old Overstolz spirit there.
Matthias wrinkled his nose in disgust as he fought his way through the storm. He despised weakness and he despised Johann. That odor of sentimentality he had hated all his life! Like a mold you just couldn’t get rid of. There was always someone ready with sniveling comments on his plans. It’s wrong. It’s a sin. It’s against the law of God.