The medica with the different-coloured eyes had made him feel uneasy ever since as Brother Marian she had drowned before his eyes and was resurrected in Oppenheim. He thought he knew what a magic potion or a few curses could do, and he did not want to put himself in danger. Whenever he watched her cross the yard or go to the latrine behind the house, he always felt something between a vague horror and an insatiable desire, a state which made him profoundly uneasy. He hoped that he had not looked into the cursed eyes of this witch once too often. On the one hand this young woman seemed gentle and fragile; on the other he had personal experience of how deceptive that could be. He needed only to recall the pain her knee inflicted on his groin to be enraged every single time.
When Sir Chassim had been brought to her in the covered wagon, Gero had been quietly triumphant. How worried this witch must have been about her knight! That he, Gero von Hochstaden, was responsible for the state of the young count, and that nobody but himself knew this gave him immense satisfaction. At a suitable moment he would disclose this fact to the witch, perhaps after she had been questioned in the torture chamber, and thus he would be able to rub salt into her wounds. His uncle might possibly permit him to take part in the interrogation himself, and without a doubt he would make Anna Ahrweiler talk, he was convinced of it. Admissions would literally pour out of her if he were allowed to lend a hand. But all of that was still in the future. First let her bring von Greifenklau back to health with her magic tricks. Gero could not imagine that Count Chassim would survive the serious open shin-bone fracture without having to have his leg amputated.
In the tent after the joust, feigning concern, he had had a closer look at the injury and reckoned that the leg was finished. If the young count was unlucky, he might even get gangrene and die a painful death after a few weeks. But then they had gone and fetched this witch. And now? Now someone was laughing so loudly in the house of the medica that it could be heard outside. It sounded like Sir Chassim, but surely that couldn’t be, as yesterday he was lying on his deathbed. Could he be laughing again today? If that was the case it could only mean that Anna Ahrweiler’s magic tricks had been successful once again and Chassim was indeed on the way to recovery. Well damn her – he had to see this with his own eyes!
Gero sneaked up to the small window on the ground floor and carefully peeped in. What he saw in the candlelit treatment room caused Gero’s eyes almost to fall out of their sockets. There, a cheerful Sir Chassim, bearded and visibly emaciated, sat on a straw mattress spooning something into himself while the medica, the monk and the blond maid stood around watching him.
Gero returned to the campfire where he had time to think hard. He would have to inform his uncle that Chassim had recovered. He still could not believe it. The medica’s magical powers could only be of the Devil.
Chapter II
Konrad von Hochstaden was sitting in the luxuriously furnished reception hall of the magnificent bishop’s palace in Cologne listening to his nephew’s report on events in Oppenheim. He had sent away his servants and all the attendants when Gero had started to tell him about the unbelievable progress the seriously injured Chassim von Greifenklau was making.
‘This is precisely what we have been waiting for. The final proof that Anna Ahrweiler is a witch.’ The archbishop smiled contentedly.
Then, fixing his nephew with a stare, he lowered his voice to a whisper as he asked: ‘You would have loved to have done away with her yourself then and there, wouldn’t you?’
Gero lowered his eyes and replied: ‘I would have had the opportunity, and the intention was there, yes, your grace.’
‘Then tell me one thing, Nephew – are you responsible for the misfortune that has befallen the count’s brother-in-law, that fall from the horse while in single combat with you?’
Gero despondently hung his head and nodded.
The archbishop, pursuing the matter further, asked: ‘How did you do it?’
‘The evening before the joust I cut into the belly band in such a way that it would rip under serious strain.’
‘And why did you do that?’
‘I have seen how the medica has so bewitched Sir Chassim’s heart that he has passionately fallen in love with her. I was hoping that a fatal fall or serious injury for von Greifenklau would wound the medica to the core. And that’s what has happened.’
Sternly the archbishop looked at him. ‘You act prematurely and without thinking. It could endanger our plans.’
Gero shamefacedly looked at the ground and remained silent.
Konrad von Hochstaden got up and went to a bowl filled with fruit on the black ebony table. He selected a pomegranate and took up a knife which lay beside the bowl.
He held out the fruit to Gero and asked: ‘Do you know this fruit?’ He did not expect an answer and continued: ‘It comes from the Levant and is called a pomegranate. This fruit is one of God’s true miracles, and it is mentioned in the Bible several times. But one must know how to eat it because one cannot simply bite into it like an apple. Only the fruit seeds are edible, whereas the hard skin and the white membranes are not.’
He opened the door and ordered the servant who was waiting in the corridor: ‘Fetch me a bowl with water!’
Konrad von Hochstaden was looking at the fruit as if it was a crystal ball in which he could read the future.
The servant came back, put the bowl with the water on the table and left the hall closing the door behind him.
‘Now you show me how you would eat this fruit,’ the archbishop said to his nephew and threw him the pomegranate.
The latter caught it skilfully and examined it closely. Then he pulled a knife from a hidden scabbard in his boot and slit the skin. He pushed his thumb into the opening, broke the fruit apart and then proceeded to dig out the seeds with his teeth and eat them. The inedible portions he put back on the table without being bothered by the reddish juice dripping from his chin. Finally he finished, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
The archbishop, who had been watching him the whole time, now nodded and said: ‘Watch this carefully.’
He took another pomegranate from the bowl, cut off the stalk, and put it into the water bowl, opening it with his hands in the water.
‘The edible seeds will sink to the bottom and the rest will rise to the surface,’ he said as he fished the leftover bits of skin and membrane from the surface of the water. Then he poured the water into the fruit bowl from which he had removed the fruit. Next he reached for the fruit seeds on the bottom of the bowl and put them in his mouth, chewing them with pleasure. ‘It is the method that makes the difference. You are a man of action, and I am a strategist. Never again do anything like what you did at the tournament without my approval or my express order. Do you understand?’
Gero sounded penitent. ‘Forgive me, your grace. It was ill-considered.’
The archbishop nodded and replied: ‘It is alright. In this case your imprudence has played into our hands.’
He threw the skins and membranes into the blazing fire where they hissed and smouldered. ‘I will deal with that witch just as with this pomegranate. We will first separate her heresies and lies from the truth, and then hand over her sinful body to the cleansing power of fire. With your testimony we will destroy the medica once and for all. You have no idea how important your contribution is to my plan. But that is not all.’
Gero visibly was touched by the unexpected praise, but he remained respectfully silent.
Konrad von Hochstaden looked out the window at the old cathedral of Cologne, which he would have to tear down and replace with his mighty edifice as his predecessor archbishop Engelbert I had wished. However in order to do so, he would first have to convince the powerful canons of the cathedral chapter of his plans. These clerics who were responsible each day for the Masses and the chanting of the seven Divine Offices in the cathedral would also have to make a unanimous decision to build the new cathedral. Soon he would have them where he wanted them, but the diplomatic wran
gling had turned out to be more complex than he had initially assumed. Some of the members still hesitated to consent due to the enormous building costs. Of course, if the question of money had been left to him alone then the foundation stone would long have been laid. He sighed at the thought of his Herculean project – which was not the only one he had set himself for the remainder of his time on earth – and he reflected wistfully on what was written in the second letter of Peter, chapter three, verse eight: ‘But do not ignore this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.’
He did not have that much time, and he so often wished that the mills of God wouldn’t grind so slowly. He stood in front of the fire warming his back, which of late was occasionally causing him pain, and for a few moments he enjoyed the warm glow.
Finally he went to his desk and reached for the scroll which lay there already prepared. He pushed it into Gero’s hand and said: ‘These are written instructions to Count Landskron to apprehend the medica as soon as his brother-in-law has recovered and keep her imprisoned in his dungeons until the trial. Your task is to ensure that everything happens the way I wish it. I will arrive at Landskron Castle shortly before Festum Nativitatis Mariae and the trial is to start the following day. It will not only put an end to Anna Ahrweiler’s shameful life and her sorcery, but her condemnation will also bring down Count Landskron and with him all the Staufer supporters . . .’
Touching him on the shoulder in a fatherly manner, the archbishop addressed his nephew.
‘Before you go, Gero – have you thought about what your donation to my cathedral can do to shorten for your father the torments of Purgatory for he had indeed incurred great debt!’
‘Oh yes, your grace, I have indeed,’ Gero said. ‘You have transferred a county to me in recognition of my fulfilling your orders. Now that I have also come into my father’s inheritance, I waive all income from it in favour of your foundation. But not only that – for the building of your cathedral you can use all the forests in my county as you wish and fell as much timber as you like.’
‘That is most generous of you, Gero. Indeed, I had expected no less of you. We will put that down in writing and seal it without delay. I can assure you that with your donation your father’s time in Purgatory will be significantly shortened.’
His nephew breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you, your grace,’ he replied. ‘You know that with this absolution a heavy weight has been lifted from my soul.’
The archbishop made the sign of the cross with his thumb on Gero’s forehead. ‘Do not fear, my son. By your deeds you do work which is pleasing to God and for which you will be rewarded a thousand times. You are now dismissed. But may I give you one piece of advice? Why not spend another day or two here in Cologne with your companions. You deserve it . . . and there are a few nice bathhouses here. Count Georg von Landskron will not dare let the witch escape.’
Gero bowed and smiled. ‘Thank you, your grace.’
Konrad von Hochstaden held out his hand. Gero bowed and kissed his ring and left the archbishop’s reception hall.
Chapter III
After Chassim had devoured the chicken broth and bread like a starving man, his eyes closed from exhaustion. After sunrise, he was still fast asleep. Brother Thomas felt his forehead and could tell he was without fever.
Suddenly there was a clatter in the hall outside. When Brother Thomas went to see what was wrong, he found that Anna had dropped a heavy tome from the pile she was balancing on her way down the stairs.
Startled, she stood still and asked quietly: ‘Did I wake up the count?’
Brother Thomas cast an eye into the treatment room, shut the door quietly and said: ‘No, he is still sleeping like a child.’
Then he bent down and picked up the heavy book. He looked at the medica reproachfully and asked, ‘What, if I may enquire, are you doing with all these books at this hour of the morning?’
‘Can’t you see?’ she replied. ‘I am putting them away. You could perhaps help me.’
With these words she thrust the stack towards him. He grabbed it and asked, perplexed: ‘What do you intend to do? Do you want to burn them?’
‘Yes, certainly,’ she said with a touch of sarcasm, ‘then everybody will see the smoke and claim that we are brewing up some magic potions. No, I will put them into a chest and bury them behind the barn.’
Only now did Brother Thomas notice the large chest that already contained quite a few books. ‘I think it is time for us to have a talk,’ he said, as he put the stack into the chest.
Anna sat down on the stairs and suddenly she looked dejected and exhausted. ‘I have to do something. I cannot simply wait here idly until they come to fetch me. I just don’t know what I should do, that’s all,’ she said.
‘Well, we had better hide the forbidden books. But what then? Do you want to bury your entire distillation apparatus and all those strange instruments, the ones that nobody knows about and which therefore must be of the Devil?’
‘No, that I will not do. That I cannot do.’
Brother Thomas sat down on the stairs next to the medica. Suddenly he too felt infinitely tired. ‘Anna, they will come here anyway and turn everything upside down looking for their so-called evidence. I know what I am talking about, as I have experienced this once before.’
‘A witch trial?’
‘Yes, a witch trial. This was what finally made me determined to turn my back on my monastery and to go looking for a place where there still was some justice.’
‘Do you believe that justice will be done for me?’
‘Oh no, I have long lost faith in that particular type of fairness.’
When he saw the desperation in her face he regretted what he had just said. ‘Please forgive me, I did not want to rob you of your last bit of confidence.’
‘That’s alright. You’d better tell me what happened at that trial.’
‘It is always the same procedure. First you will be denounced. For that nobody needs to have seen you flying around the church spire three times on your broom – even though the archbishop certainly would find somebody who would swear to that, too. The reason can be very simply one of envy, jealousy, hatred or resentment. You have many who envy you and who begrudge your being the medica. The archbishop will find plenty of people to slander you. Your guilt has been proven irrespective of any arguments you may put forth to invalidate the accusations, and irrespective of any witnesses whom you may bring to testify in your favour. And if you do not admit freely to having a pact with the Devil, they have many different ways and means of making you confess.’
‘You mean by questioning me . . .’
‘Torturing you, yes,’ Brother Thomas nodded. ‘And, believe me, under torture you will admit to anything they want to hear.’
Anna shook her head resignedly. ‘What remains for me to do so?’
‘Us. What remains for us to do, Anna! I am just as much in the archbishop’s sights as you or even Berbelin, if it comes to the worst.’
He took her hand and looked into her eyes. ‘We have to flee while we have a last respite. I will think of some way of handling the two guards; and if it comes to it we will find a way to give them a sleep potion. When they come to arrest and imprison us it will be too late!’
‘I will not abandon Sir Chassim.’
‘Then that is our death sentence.’
They remained silent for a time. Finally Anna stood up and said, ‘Take Berbelin with you and go!’
‘What?’ Brother Thomas asked, totally aghast.
‘Go, leave while you can. I do not want to have to worry about you as well and reproach myself because you are staying with me.’
With that she left him standing there, went into the treatment room to the sleeping count and closed the door.
Brother Thomas heard a suppressed sob and turned around to find Berbelin standing in the kitchen door at the end of the hall crying. Looking at her even in t
he dim morning light he knew that she had heard everything. He went to her and embraced her comfortingly. Then, holding her at arm’s length he said: ‘Will you help me bury the chest?’
Berbelin nodded, pressed her lips together, resolutely wiped away her tears and off they went to work together.
Anna was keeping watch at Chassim’s bed when he opened his eyes. He asked her to shave him, and when she had finished, he wiped away the bits of soap left on his face with a cloth.
‘Thank you, Anna. Thank you for everything,’ he said softly. When she tidied away the shaving gear, Anna examined the suture, then applied some healing ointment but kept her eyes fixed on his injured leg.
‘What’s the matter, Anna? What’s wrong with you?’ he asked
‘What should be wrong with me?’
‘You seemed dejected. Can I help you somehow?’
‘Oh, I think it is better if you help yourself.’
‘Then tell me please how long it will be before I can stand on my own feet again.’
‘The exterior healing process is progressing better than I had hoped. But I do not know what it looks like inside your leg and how fast the bones will knit again. It will take time, and under no circumstances would I like to risk that you put weight on it too soon as the bone would fracture again. Apart from that I must point out that most likely you will be limping slightly for the rest of your life. I fear that your fractured leg will be shorter than the other.’
Chassim shrugged his shoulders. ‘Still it’s preferable to walking around with a wooden leg, don’t you think?’
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