“I thought I did.”
“You thought you did. But you didn’t know?”
“We assumed he was hiding with his relations. Which turned out to be the case,” Matthias explained.
“Oh, well, that’s different,” said Johann, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You assumed. You probably got some old witch to tell you the future from your palms. Fools!”
“We were right,” Theoderich cried in fury. “How should I know he’d clear off before we got there? Someone must have warned him.”
“Who, then?”
“Obvious. Bodo Schuif, of course.”
“So what do you propose to do about Bodo Schuif?”
Theoderich hesitated.
“You can’t do anything about him,” Johann declared. “You can’t do anything about anyone. Nothing we’ve tried has worked out. Everything’s gone wrong from the word go. Marvelous! Congratulations, gentlemen.”
Matthias waved Johann’s objections aside. “We didn’t tell anyone else Jaspar had killed his servant.” He went to the window and looked out into the dark street. “Nor will we. All right, it was a mistake. So what? Urquhart’s killed Kuno. That should stop them letting their tongues wag.”
Johann gritted his teeth together so hard it hurt. He could not remember ever having been so angry before. “Yes, killed. Nothing but killing,” he said through his clenched teeth. “We’ve turned into a miserable gang of butchers. You promised me—”
“What do you want me to do, for God’s sake?” Matthias shouted. “You do nothing but whine on and on about your moral scruples. I’m sick of it! I’m fed up with your ‘We’ve burdened ourselves with guilt, there’s blood on our hands, blah, blah, blah.’” He thumped the windowsill with his fist. “Kuno would have betrayed us. He had to be gotten rid of. If I had my way, I’d eliminate the lot of them this very night. I’d send a few lads around to the Brook to slit the throat of that Goddert and his filly. That would be two fewer who know about it. And we’ll get the others, you mark my words.”
“You will not get anyone else. Enough is enough, Matthias.”
“Yes, enough is enough. Just think, Johann. I’m willing to bet they’ve not told anyone else. They haven’t had time. Let Theoderich lock up Goddert and Richmodis von Weiden in the Tower. The pretext doesn’t matter. We’ll invent one.”
“No.”
Matthias wrung his hands. “We must protect ourselves, Johann.”
“I said no. Where is Urquhart?”
“What?” Matthias seemed confused. “Why? I don’t know where he is. It doesn’t look as if he was so badly burned he won’t be able to carry out his commission. Otherwise he’d have sent word.”
“And where will he be when the time comes?”
Matthias gave him a suspicious look. His lips twisted in a faint smile. “Are you thinking of—”
“Where, goddammit?!”
“In a good position.”
Johann stood right in front of him. “I suppose I will not be able to stop Conrad being killed”—his voice was trembling with rage—“even though I have come to the conclusion that I have never agreed to anything more evil, more sinful than this alliance. That must take its course. But I can stop more people being killed in the name of this unholy alliance, the aim of which is nothing more than a cowardly murder to allow each of us to satisfy his personal desires. For too long I have stood idly by while each of you does what he wants. From now on every decision is in my hands. Did you hear, Matthias? Every decision. No more killings.”
“You’re crazy,” Matthias sneered.
“Yes, I’m crazy to have listened to my mother at all. From the outset I should have—”
There was a knocking below. They fell silent and looked at each other. Further knocking, then the shuffle of footsteps as one of the maids went to see who was demanding entry at that time of the night. They heard the sound of quiet voices, then the maid came. “It’s the archbishop’s secretary, His Excellency Lorenzo da Castellofiore, sir.”
Theoderich’s jaw dropped. “What can he want?”
“Bring him up,” Johann ordered brusquely. The maid gave a respectful nod and disappeared. Johann frowned, wondering what could have happened now. Theoderich was right. Lorenzo ought to be in the palace. It was irresponsible of him to be seen here.
The secretary rushed in, completely out of breath. “Wine.”
“What?”
Lorenzo collapsed onto a stool. “Give me something to drink. Quickly, I can’t stay long.”
Matthias gave the others a bewildered look, went to the sideboard, and filled a gold goblet, which he handed to Lorenzo. The secretary tossed it down as if he were dying of thirst.
“Johann has just observed that we are a band of fools,” Matthias remarked pointedly.
Lorenzo wiped his lips and stared at him. “Yes,” he panted, “you can say that again.”
THE SEARCH
Jaspar seemed engrossed in meditation as he crossed Haymarket with measured tread, his face in the shadow of his hood, his hands in his sleeves. At the entrance to Seidenmachergäßchen he stopped, his eyes scanning the buildings on either side. It was close to the fifth hour. People were still asleep. The furriers’ and saddlers’ stalls were as empty as the shops opposite. They wouldn’t be selling their wares today anyway. It was the Lord’s day.
To the left was the outline of the city weighhouse. Nothing moved.
He took a few steps into the alley and felt his nervousness increase. If Jacob wasn’t there he’d have to go to the Hall. His absence could be a good sign. It could just as well mean he hadn’t managed to get as far as the palace.
He strolled along past the crowstepped facades of the little shops, murmuring the Lord’s Prayer. Immediately Jacob peered out from an entrance and waved him over. Jaspar’s heart missed a beat. He forced himself to keep walking slowly, although it felt like torture, until he was standing beside Jacob.
“Persons in holy orders don’t wave their arms about,” he said with a note of censure, “at least not in public.”
Jacob growled and looked all around. “You’re bloody late.”
Jaspar shrugged his shoulders. “We agreed between the fourth and fifth hour. I preferred to take it at a pace that is pleasing to the Lord. God does not like to see His servants running.”
“How saintly!”
“No, just cautious. Did you get anywhere at the palace?”
“I had a go at flying.”
“What?”
Jacob told him.
“Curses and double curses!” Jaspar exclaimed. “Another conspirator.”
“Who is this Lorenzo?”
“He’s from Milan. In Conrad’s service, though he only arrived a few months ago. As far as I know, he’s responsible for the correspondence. An inscrutable type, vain and unpopular, slimy, sticks to you like porridge. The patricians probably bribed him to get the details of the procession and the placement of the guards.” Jaspar stamped his foot in fury. “These corrupt clerics! No wonder Christendom’s in such a state when everyone can be bought.”
“They must have paid him a tidy sum.”
“Huh!” Jaspar snorted contemptuously. “Some’ll do it for a mess of pottage. Rome’s become a whore, what else can you expect?”
Jacob was downcast. “Well, we can forget about warning Conrad,” he said.
“Yes,” Jaspar agreed. “Probably about finding Urquhart, too. I guess they’ll be gathering in the cathedral courtyard for the procession about now.” He frowned. “We haven’t much time.”
“Let’s look for him all the same,” said Jacob, determination in his voice.
Jaspar nodded gloomily. “We’ll start here. You take the right side of the street, I’ll take the left. Head for Mars Gate in the first instance, the procession will pass through it. We’ll go over the route ahead of them.”