Nobody said a word.
‘Lord above! If only I could get up rather than have this damned leg! My sword would show the archbishop who is possessed by the Devil and who isn’t!’ Chassim exclaimed.
The countess had been prepared for her brother’s outburst, she knew him well enough and she tried to calm his futile rage. ‘Konrad von Hochstaden has given his word to my husband that the medica can stay here until you have recovered.’
‘And he will decide the time? That just can’t be true! Why does he want to destroy you, Anna? Because you lived in his monastery as Brother Marian and you could be dangerous to him?’
The medica wanted to reply but Brother Thomas spoke first. ‘He probably knows by now that Anna used to be Brother Marian, but it might also be something personal, as the archbishop knows that through Anna intrigues in connection with the sudden death of Father Urban and the death of her parents might come to light. But primarily Konrad von Hochstaden sees himself as the defender of the faith, and thus as the enemy of any kind of false teaching and heresy and he acts accordingly. With her healing methods, Anna could pose a threat to the only true faith, something the archbishop could never allow because it questions the entire foundations of Holy Mother Church. Forgive me, Anna, this is not my personal opinion, but how the archbishop thinks. You are a threat to the power structures because your work might lead people to think for themselves, and consequently folk might find that there are other truths than the ones they hear preached. That is something the powers that be will never permit.’
The countess, the medica and Chassim looked at Brother Thomas in surprise. He had turned red with the fervour of his outburst.
Finally the medica shook her head. ‘You are absolutely right, Brother Thomas, but if you speak like that in court we will all end up at the stake without even a trial!’
Chassim was still appalled. ‘Well, do you really think that you will get a fair trial?’
‘My husband will do everything in his power to ensure it, he promised me as much and he has said so to the archbishop,’ the countess added.
‘Honour where honour is due, but there won’t be a fair trial!’ Chassim exclaimed vehemently. ‘And I’m telling you that the verdict is a foregone conclusion! Under no circumstances, Anna, must you allow the archbishop to incarcerate you. You have only one option: flight.’
‘And what about the guards?’ Brother Thomas interjected.
Chassim waved dismissively. ‘We will think of something. I will bring you to my father where you will be safe for a start. And then we will see what can be done.’
‘In your condition you cannot take anyone anywhere,’ the countess remarked. ‘And furthermore – what would be gained by this?’
‘Time, Sister, time. As well as Anna’s life.’
Just then the medica stood up and walked to the door. ‘I know that you all mean well and that you are on my side, and I thank you for it,’ she said. ‘But I will not run away. I will face the charges and refute them.’
Hurrying from the treatment room in great agitation, Anna almost walked into Berbelin. At first she didn’t notice just how distraught her maid was and it was only when Berbelin grabbed her and tried to explain with frantic gestures that she had something important to tell that Anna stopped. Berbelin pulled a folded-up parchment from her bodice and handed it to her mistress.
Anna took it and asked Berbelin: ‘Did somebody give you this for me?’
Berbelin nodded eagerly and because just then Brother Thomas was stepping out of the treatment room she pointed to him and joined her hands as if in prayer.
Anna understood immediately. ‘Was it a monk?’
Again Berbelin nodded.
‘Did you know him?’
Berbelin shook her head, moved towards Brother Thomas and pulled his hood over his head until only his nose could be seen.
‘You did not see his face. Did he say anything?’ Anna wanted to know.
Berbelin pointed at Anna and put her finger on her lips.
Anna started to guess. ‘That you should only give the message to me?’
Berbelin affirmed mutely, and Anna at last unfolded the parchment and read what was written in capital letters.
She read the message once, twice and then the room began to spin around her and she had to sit down.
‘What is it?’ Brother Thomas asked pushing back his hood. ‘Bad news?’
Instead of answering she handed him the parchment.
Brother Thomas looked at the scrap of parchment blankly and muttered to himself: ‘Io 9,25 . . . Dial . . . Mir . . . Ar . . . Pi . . . Sepulc . . . Io . . . Bapt . . . Vig . . . What is that supposed to mean? I cannot make sense of this; it does not make any sense, really. Perhaps it is a mistake and not intended for you at all. Io 9, 25 – that I can understand, it could be from the Gospel of St John, chapter nine, verse twenty-five. But the rest . . . Do you understand it?’ he asked as he looked up at her.
Tears were running down Anna’s cheeks. She smiled and said: ‘Yes, I do understand it. St John 9, verse 25.“One thing I know, that though I was blind, now I see.” It is definitely intended for me because it is written in such a way that only I can understand it. It means that somebody wants to meet me because they have some important news. Something crucial; otherwise he would never have sent me this message.’
‘And who is this somebody supposed to be?’
She hesitated because she herself could not quite comprehend what was happening but then she spoke his name: ‘Father Urban.’
Brother Thomas was aghast. ‘Father Urban? Your infirmarius at Heisterbach Monastery? But you told me yourself that he had been poisoned!’
‘That is correct. He was lying dead in front of me. And nevertheless now he wants to meet me.’
Chapter V
In the large reception hall of the palas a tired Count Georg von Landskron was pacing up and down. The hall was empty except for the U-shaped heavy table. The emissary of the archbishop, Gero von Hochstaden, had been announced and in his head the count went through all the demands that would be made of him this time. His honour was deeply wounded because he had to accept without question the dictates of the archbishop.
Count Georg was profoundly indebted to the medica for her assistance on numerous occasions, but he could not stand by her; on the contrary, he had to see to it that she would remain under guard until her trial. To make matters worse, should she be found guilty, he would be the one responsible for handing her over to burn at the stake. No matter what way he looked at it, he could find no loophole, no way out.
Night after night he had talked it over with his wife with whom he shared all his concerns. Since her brother’s serious accident at the tournament and the archbishop’s demand for support in his fight against heresy, she was more distressed than he had ever seen her. She did not reproach him for she understood that they had no means of opposing the archbishop and his plan. For Ottgild it constituted a betrayal of the medica. It weighed heavily on her soul that in a perfidious way they were forced to take part in such a villainous game and, worse, that it was her husband and herself whom Konrad von Hochstaden was using to execute his plans.
Of course Count Georg could see the political implications of the trial of a medica who, as everybody knew, had been authorised and appointed by himself and who had unlimited access to the count’s family. Count Georg knew that the archbishop would take malicious pleasure in raising this well-known fact during the day or days of the trial and capitalise on it to blacken the name of Landskron, always of course for his own advantage.
A loud knock on the door interrupted the count’s thoughts. A servant entered to announce Gero von Hochstaden and the castle chaplain. That, too, was part of the intrigue of the Hochstadens which Count Georg had to put up with – this nephew of the archbishop’s who had participated in the tournament under a false name and had not only won it, but seriously injured his brother-in-law in the process, and who
had earlier gotten himself appointed archery instructor to spy on the castle at his uncle’s behest. Having uncovered these machinations, the count had no alternative but to swallow his pride and put on a brave face, though what he would have liked to do was kick young Hochstaden out of his castle.
The archbishop had decreed in a message to the count that the investigation of accusations of sorcery was to be given top priority and, moreover, that he was appointing the count himself as the archiepiscopal representative in the proceedings. The count could do nothing but grit his teeth.
As Count Georg saw Gero von Hochstaden and the castle chaplain approach, he was seriously annoyed by the impudent grin on the face of the young man, inspired no doubt by the authority bestowed on him by the archbishop. He managed to hide his feelings, though, and greeted them with a slight nod of the head.
The archbishop’s nephew began to speak: ‘Your honour, I extend to you the greetings of his grace, the archbishop.’
‘Get to the point, von Hochstaden,’ the count replied tersely.
‘I have here a certificate of authority from his grace,’ Gero von Hochstaden said and handed a document to the count. ‘With immediate effect, all your men are answerable to me. This will be the case until the archbishop’s arrival and I will make sure that his orders are followed minutely. Have you any objections?’
‘And if I had?’ Count Georg asked.
‘I would have to enforce the orders, if necessary with the help of my men, who are posted outside,’ Gero replied smugly.
Count Georg repressed his response, cast an eye on the document with the archbishop’s seal, rolled it up again and looked into Gero von Hochstaden’s face with contempt. ‘Anything else?’
‘Yes. Make sure that by the Festum Nativitatis Mariae, everything is ready for the trial. That also applies to the dungeons. Where are they?’
‘Beneath the castle keep.’
‘Good. I will inspect them in due course. Have you got a suitable chamber in which to conduct in-depth interrogations?’
‘You mean . . . a torture chamber?’
Gero von Hochstaden shrugged his shoulders as if to say: if that’s what you want to call it . . .
‘No. I never had any use for such a facility and I do hope I never will,’ Count Georg replied.
‘One should always be prepared for any eventuality,’ Gero von Hochstaden remarked condescendingly and stepped back with a gesture to the castle chaplain.
The cleric nodded a bow and said: ‘Your honour, please habituate yourself to the idea that just like every noble patient who has been treated by the medica, both you and your wife will be called as witnesses . . . Should you wish to confess beforehand to ease your conscience, I will be at your disposal at any time, as is my duty.’
While the chaplain was speaking, Gero von Hochstaden looked around the reception hall as if he were the new master of Landskron Castle. He turned again to Count Georg and asked: ‘How is your brother-in-law? I have heard he is already on the road to recovery.’
‘Then you know more than I do. My wife is visiting him presently. She will let me know his condition.’
‘If he needs no further treatment, I must have the medica put in your dungeons to make sure she doesn’t get any ideas.’
‘I will let you know.’
‘I should hope so.’
With that Gero von Hochstaden turned round and, with the castle chaplain in tow, exited. Behind them the door crashed shut.
Georg von Landskron stayed behind, his hands in tight fists. Suddenly he threw his wine cup, which had been sitting on the table untouched, at full force at the wall. It shattered into a thousand pieces and the wine ran down the wall like blood.
Anna had not spoken another word about the coded message since it had arrived. The trial was approaching inexorably, with less than two weeks left. But whenever Chassim or Brother Thomas wanted to talk about it, she clammed up entirely.
Secretly, however, she had begun to hatch a plan. The plan had not yet formed completely, but she was beginning to realise it was the only one which offered any possibility of her emerging from the whole affair unscathed. The trouble was that she had to stake all her hopes on one card. Whether this card would be the winner God alone knew – God, whom she had not entreated for such a long time because she had been convinced that he had forgotten her. But now it seemed that he did still remember her, she who had quarrelled so much with him. For when she thought about it very carefully, she had always been miraculously saved whenever she thought that there was no way out.
Once she had arrived at that understanding, first gradually and then with sudden clarity, she knew that the grace of faith had been bestowed on her again. God had not abandoned her. Or rather, she had found him again because he had given her a sign. After such a long time she was again in a position to pray fervently in the knowledge that the Lord God would show her the way. The coded message had been a pointer which heaven alone could have sent her.
Suddenly she felt an inner strength and confidence that at times she thought she had lost: a steadfast and well-founded hope that in the end, everything would turn out well . . .
Anna avoided being alone with Chassim because he used every opportunity to touch her tenderly or at least ask her for a kiss. Instead she locked herself in her laboratory pretending to be experimenting or studying her books – or at least those that Brother Thomas and Berbelin had not buried behind the latrine hut. In reality, she was trying to prepare herself for the trial; in her head she went through her arguments and carried on imaginary debates with the archbishop, especially at night when she couldn’t sleep, tortured by the thought that Chassim, still immobile, was waiting and longing for her.
She would have loved nothing better than to throw herself into his arms. Again and again, day and night, images, touches, kisses, blissful sensations and unfulfillable hopes stole into her thoughts. Even though she made the greatest effort to suppress such imaginings and feelings, she was powerless against them. The more she tried not to think of Chassim, the more often and stronger she felt drawn to him. But right now she just could not give her feelings free rein much as she suffered as a result.
She had let herself become involved with him because she had been weak and had thrown reason and caution to the wind. She did not regret it. For once in her life at least, she had experienced love, passion and surrender, the most divine of gifts given to human beings, and something she would draw on to the end of her life.
And for this, she thought in the moments of deepest despair that frequently seized her, she would not have to wait much longer. At such moments she wanted only one thing: to prevent her one and only love being sucked into the vortex of her own downfall. Under no circumstances was anybody to find out about herself and Chassim lest the information reach the archbishop. Occasionally when she cast a furtive glance outside, she saw shadows sneaking around the house. Probably they were the archbishop’s spies tasked with finding out if she pursued any devilish rituals at night or celebrated black masses with animals or whatever else he might like to charge her with. At all costs, Chassim had to be kept out of the court proceedings but that precisely was her dilemma. She sensed that if it was at all possible for him he would take her side and she would not be able to stop him, no matter what she did.
Chassim’s strength returned little by little, but he was still bed-bound, which visibly pained him as the day of the trial approached with grim inevitability. He pondered escape plans but rejected them because of his physical condition and his enforced inaction, and in his mounting despair that he would not be able to intervene with sword or fist, he also could not understand what was going on in Anna’s head and heart. At last he begged his sister for a conversation with his brother-in-law. Ottgild put him off but promised that she would talk to Count Georg and tell him to visit Chassim.
When his door opened and Anna stepped in, Chassim’s face immediately lit up as always when he saw her and could hope to hold her in hi
s arms again. But with the same disappointing regularity, Brother Thomas followed her in, dashing the hopes of his love-sick heart.
Brother Thomas was carrying strips of linen wound up on rolls along with a bowl and a wooden pail of water.
‘At last,’ Chassim said with some bitter sarcasm. ‘So you do want to heal me in one fell swoop after all? I promise I won’t tell anybody.’
He knew how much he could annoy Anna with such remarks and it was his intention to provoke her. Ever since she had given herself to him with a passion one would not have expected from a girl so self-possessed, reserved and inexperienced, she had changed into an unapproachable and forbidding woman. Unfortunately he could not follow her and hold her until she would answer the question that burned in his soul. Did she love him as much as he loved her? But now he noticed that Berbelin the maid had also entered and she was carrying a heavy bag which she put down on the floor.
Brother Thomas looked at him sternly. ‘Sir Chassim, those words were in bad taste. The medica is really doing everything to help you and you seem to have nothing but ridicule for her.’
Chassim acted as if conscience-stricken. ‘Forgive me, but my state of enforced inactivity is slowly driving me mad.’
He had sat up when they entered but Anna gently and firmly pushed him back onto his bed and bent over his injured leg.
‘We will see whether this state of affairs can be changed. I will now examine your leg, so don’t move!’ She deftly removed the pieces of wood which had been fixed with leather straps to brace his leg and looked at the sutured wound. ‘The suture has healed well. We will now carry out the promised experiment on you,’ she said. ‘I will now fit you with a plaster cast below your knee. Initially the plaster has to be soft, and you must stay still until it has hardened and dried. If I put on enough layers, your leg should be sufficiently stabilised for the fractured bone to knit while allowing you to get up and walk a few steps.’
She turned to the maid. ‘Berbelin – kindly keep an eye on the guards outside and let us know immediately if you see somebody approach the house.’
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