‘You are familiar with such injuries, army surgeon?’
‘I should certainly think so, because for more than twenty years I have been treating battle and war wounds and I can assure you that only immediate amputation – that is a removal of the injured limb – could have saved Sir Chassim. I was about to do what must be done in such a case when along comes this . . . this . . .’ Visibly agitated, he pointed his finger at Anna.
Abbot Sixtus helped him. ‘Don’t be afraid to use the appropriate name, army surgeon: witch!’
‘Yes, this witch arrives, forbids the amputation and throws me out of the tent. Normally, and I can swear to this, the knight would have perished of gangrene within two weeks at the latest, but he survived. Because this witch is in league with the devil and has healed the knight with his help!’
‘No, this is not true! This is a lie!’ a stentorian voice sounded from the background. A murmur ran through the audience. It was Chassim, who had stayed in the shadows next to the staircase with his sister and now limped forward on a crutch through the crowd with his leg in a plaster cast. As soon as people recognised him they willingly let him through.
The archbishop leaned back contentedly. ‘You are making an appearance at just the right time, Sir Chassim. I was about to call you up.’
Chassim nodded to Anna reassuringly and she managed to return a tiny smile. He turned to the tribunal and pointed at the archbishop with his crutch. ‘I challenge the authority of this court, your grace. I demand that you call in a royal or a papal envoy who will guarantee the observance of certain rules as well as a fair defence! I had always thought that judgement came at the end of a trial, not at its beginning!’
Again a murmur ran through the crowd.
The archbishop nodded to his nephew Gero who gave a signal to his men, who immediately drew their swords. There was silence.
The archbishop raised his hand and said: ‘You are not entitled to call into question the authority of this high court, Sir Chassim. But apart from that, alas, we do not have a real king at present who is recognised by all sides and neither do we have a pope. Hence I constitute the highest authority and represent the papal curia. But please, say what you have to say. However, I must warn you that you are digging a grave for yourself and this witch!’
Chassim appeared unimpressed by the archbishop’s words. He demonstratively turned his back on the table of judges and addressed the people. ‘You good people see me standing here even though only a few weeks ago I was closer to death than life. It is true: I owe my life to the medica, as do many here in this hall. My sister,’ he pointed to Ottgild who took a step out of the shadows and all heads turned to her, ‘and my little nephew and many more. Yes, Anna Ahrweiler who nursed me back to health with devotion and who through her healing methods saved my leg is to be held responsible! She is guilty of having done her duty as a healer and much more than that. She is guilty of treating me and many others affected by illness or accident with skills which have nothing to do with magic or sorcery, but with knowledge alone. All of us here should be thankful to God that with his help she has improved the art of medicine and selflessly cares for everyone who needs healing. Therefore there can be only one judgement for her: a verdict of acquittal!’
‘Are you done?’ the archbishop asked, visibly bored.
Chassim turned around to him and looked him directly in the eye. ‘With all due respect, your grace, I tell you to stop these proceedings now. Immediately!’
Impassively superior, the archbishop continued. ‘You are brave, Sir Chassim, I grant you that. But I now ask you to stay for a moment with the accused. What will now be produced in evidence directly concerns you both.’
He smiled and raised his ringed hand. Upon this sign his nephew Gero disappeared outside.
Everybody waited in suspense, and Anna and Chassim exchanged a secret glance.
It wasn’t long before Gero von Hochstaden re-entered. He brought along a saddle which he put at Chassim’s feet and then stood next to it, arms folded.
‘Do you recognise this saddle, Sir Chassim?’ the archbishop asked.
‘Naturally,’ Chassim said. ‘It belongs to me.’
‘Is this the saddle the belly band of which broke during the final joust when you competed against my nephew?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘And that broken strap is ultimately responsible for your serious injury?’
‘Yes, I believe so.’
The archbishop briefly paused for effect before raising his voice so that everyone in the hall could hear him: ‘Do you love Anna Ahrweiler, Sir Chassim?’
The archbishop’s question was so entirely unexpected that everybody present, dumbfounded, held their breath.
‘And what is that to you?’ Chassim asked indignantly.
‘It is a very simple question, Sir Chassim, to which I expect a simple answer. Do you love Anna Ahrweiler? Yes or no?’
All eyes were on Sir Chassim, who straightened himself bolt upright and declared: ‘Yes, I love her!’
The excited babble of voices that broke out ceased when the archbishop rose, walked around the judges’ table and with a smile that promised no good eyed Chassim and Anna.
‘A man of noble blood like you, Sir Chassim, admits to being in love with a woman of more than questionable reputation, low birth and infamous origins.’
He turned to the crowd. ‘This is something that cannot and must not be. It is against the order ordained by God. But what makes something like that possible? What does it tell us? I will explain it to you. My nephew Gero von Hochstaden has examined this saddle, and noticed that the strap had been cut with a sharp tool in such a way that it would give way if seriously strained. The medica had been spotted by several people sneaking around the knights’ camp. And who, may I ask, might have an interest in Sir Chassim falling off his horse and being so injured as to require healing and caring, if possible in her own home? And what better place to administer to him all the more easily those witch’s potions which on the one hand heal him and on the other make him sick? Yes, sick with love for this little cunning scheming witch!’
The archbishop had now worked himself into a rage, and pointed to Anna in a holy fury. She just stood there as dismayed and bewildered by this unexpected and twisted logic as everybody else in the hall.
‘Is this not the truth?!’ roared the archbishop. ‘Admit it, Anna Ahrweiler. Is this not the truth?!’
‘No!’ Anna shouted. ‘No! It is a devilish lie!’
The archbishop went on shouting, his voice nearly cracking with rage: ‘The medica had engineered Sir Chassim’s accident and bewitched him in her house so that he would do her will! That he would copulate with her! That he would become obsessed with her! And still she denies being a witch! Anna Ahrweiler is a heretical liar with devilish eyes and satanic propensities. Take her to the dungeons beneath the keep and lock her in there! Tomorrow I will submit her to a meticulous interrogation. The rack will surely elicit a confession from her! Take her away, out of our sight!’
The thunderous tumult which ensued was indescribable. Everybody shouted, shoved and pushed in confusion. The archbishop’s harangue had so whipped up excitement in the hall that even the assessors were completely beside themselves with horror at Anna’s heinous actions.
The archbishop alone stood as a bastion of calm. Despite being in shock in the midst of the chaos Anna watched him shoot a conspiratorial glance at the castle chaplain and obviously enjoyed it when the chaplain clapped his hands twice. The archbishop acknowledged the compliment with a slight nod.
Meanwhile Gero and his men took drastic action, seizing the completely bewildered Anna and dragging her outside, ignoring what resistance she and a desperate Chassim could offer.
Chapter IX
Night-time peace had settled over Landskron Castle. But Count Georg could not fall asleep thinking of the next day when a confession of sorcery would be extracted from the medica in his forge, which had been converted into
a vile torture chamber.
Restlessly he paced up and down the study where his brother-in-law Chassim was keeping him company. Chassim had not been locked up following Count Georg’s objection, but he was certain to be indicted. Chassim was convinced that the entire Landskron family would be accused of heresy as there seemed to be no stopping the archbishop now. Count Georg had been informed of the plan that Chassim and Anna had hatched once they knew that she would be tried. It was a last resort but was the only hope that now remained. Chassim explained that he wanted to go ahead with the plan at whatever cost and that the preparations had long been completed. Count Georg allowed himself to be persuaded because he felt so terribly abused by the archbishop’s behaviour at the trial, and with his heart full of resentment he felt nothing but total contempt for Konrad von Hochstaden. He would help Chassim with his plan even if the consequences were unknowable. But neither he nor his wife could allow his brother-in-law to be put on trial, or the innocent medica to whom they owed so much to be burnt at the stake in his castle yard. Under no circumstances would he allow himself to be further degraded as a submissive instrument of the inquisitor. No, he would fight, and oppose the inquisitor archbishop’s brutal, tyrannical rule over the Landskrons’ county with all his might.
Anna was sitting behind thick iron bars in the dungeons beneath the keep. She couldn’t sleep a wink, not just because of the cold and damp and the terrible draughts, but because she was still too upset after the tumultuous trial. She had been prepared for a few impudent allegations and baseless accusations, but not in her worst nightmares could she have imagined that her love for Chassim would be exposed in a cunning line of questioning and hypocritical argument such as the archbishop had used in his public presentation.
Torches shed their flickering light into the dungeons. It was as quiet as a grave except that now and then she could hear the scuttling and squeaks of the rats that lived down there. If only Chassim would come! Or had he also been locked up in the end? She was convinced that he would do everything to put their emergency plan into action. But in order for it to work, the count would have to be prepared to act as an accomplice. If not . . . Anna didn’t dare think of what would happen. She prayed to God with a new fervour, and to her surprise found some comfort.
When Konrad von Hochstaden finally retired, he recalled with considerable satisfaction the events of the day. The main part of the work was done and what remained for him to do should be a source of pure pleasure.
Tomorrow he would bring the whole affair spectacularly to an end. His nephew had already built the pyres on the highest point of the courtyard where he had indicated. He wanted two pyres, because he planned to consign both the medica and her maid to the flames. Berbelin he did not even have to question as her dumbness was proof enough that she was possessed by the Devil. Who knows, maybe the flames would loosen her tongue and make her scream? Now that would be an interesting experiment. And with this amusing thought, he closed his eyes and fell into a well-deserved sleep.
Anna awoke with a start. Had she fallen asleep from exhaustion and dreamed it, or had she actually heard someone? She sat up in the corner on the scraps of straw which she had painstakingly scraped together to lie on. There it was again – a jerky shuffle and a click. Chassim? She hurried to the bars and peered into the dark corner where behind the hidden door a stairs led to the third floor of the keep. Shaking with excitement she waited for Chassim to appear, and hoped it was not Gero von Hochstaden or one of his guards who had discovered the secret access. She could hear the noise of keys and somebody opening the lock. At last the gate slowly creaked open and a beam of light fell into the dungeons.
Anna clutched the bars with all her strength. A man in dark clothing cautiously entered, a burning torch in his hand. It could not be Chassim because the stranger did not have his leg in plaster. He made for her cell without hesitating. Only when he was standing right in front of her did she recognise who it was: Count Georg von Landskron. He gestured her to keep silent, and after trying several keys on the ring found the one to unlock her cell. Anna cautiously opened her door.
‘Where is Chassim?’ she whispered in an anxious voice because she feared that she might have to flee on her own.
The count did not say a word but led her out of the cell. Just then, Chassim came limping through the secret door as noiselessly as he could with his cast and his crutch. Berbelin was with him.
Anna and Chassim hugged each other briefly as the count with his bunch of keys began already unlocking the second hidden door, behind which the underground passages beneath Oppenheim began.
‘Chassim’s two grooms are waiting for you at the other end of the passage,’ the count whispered. ‘Good luck!’
Chassim had already started carefully on the steps, with Berbelin helping him. When the count pushed his torch into her hand Anna asked him worriedly, ‘And what about you? And the countess?’
‘Maybe the inquisitor will think that you have vanished into thin air or that you flew away. I know nothing. There will be an investigation but the archbishop will not dare accuse me or lay a hand on me.’
Before Anna could ask after little Frederick, the count pushed her through the door. ‘Go, get away as quickly as you can. Off with you, get going!’ Then he closed the door behind them.
Anna and Chassim looked into each other’s eyes for mutual encouragement. Together with Berbelin they started the arduous descent, which was very difficult because of Chassim’s leg. Soon he was panting and drenched in sweat. Every so often he stumbled and nearly tripped on the narrow, slippery and irregular steps but Anna, who was just ahead of him, managed to catch him every time. A fall down the steep stairway would have been fatal.
When at last they reached the bottom Chassim wiped the sweat from his brow.
‘I don’t think I will make it,’ he said. ‘You go on alone, I’m only holding you back.’
‘Either the three of us go, or we all stay,’ Anna replied resolutely and now that the passage became wider and descended more gently, she and Berbelin could support him on either side. Thus they awkwardly trudged along.
Suddenly Chassim stopped and grabbed Anna by the shoulder. ‘Quiet,’ he said, trying to get his wheezy breath under control. ‘I think I heard something!’
They listened but could only hear dripping water. They were standing in a side passage where the soot marks Anna had once made could still be seen. Suddenly, they heard a noise and then voices echoing through the labyrinth.
‘Somebody is coming!’ Chassim hissed. ‘Quick, extinguish your torch.’
‘But without light we will be lost!’ Anna whispered.
‘Put out that torch!’ Chassim ordered. ‘Quick!’
Immediately Anna stuck the torch into a puddle where it went out with a hiss. Suddenly they were plunged into complete darkness; they couldn’t even see their hand before their eyes. Anna clung to Chassim with fright while holding Berbelin’s hand so as not to lose her. He pulled both women into a niche where they remained absolutely still and listened. At first, they couldn’t hear anything and Anna began to think that she had been deceived and that her imagination had played a trick on her. Then panic seized her. How were they ever to find their way out of this labyrinth without light?
‘Hush!’ Chassim whispered and pushed her back further into the niche.
Now she, too, could hear what sounded like the voices of two men. Soon a glimmer of light could be seen. Anna pressed against Chassim.
‘Might they be the archbishop’s soldiers? Perhaps they discovered the trapdoor in the barn!’
Chassim whispered back: ‘We have no chance against armed men. We must stay hidden.’
He pulled her and Berbelin even further into the niche, which broadened out into a side passage. There they held their breath and waited as the men came nearer. They saw two figures in cloaks with torches who stumbled along one after the other stopping indecisively at each junction. They didn’t seem to know where to go and they shone the
ir torches into every passage. Chassim, Anna and Berbelin stood in their niche in the shadows behind a rocky overhang. They could not have been discovered unless the men chose a wrong turn. Chassim readied his crutch as a weapon.
The men seemed to have a map of sorts, for they were looking at something one of them was holding in the torch light as they tried to get their bearings. Anna could make out the face of one of them. He had a grey beard that did not quite hide the ugly burn scar that covered half his face. When he turned a little more to the side Anna suddenly recognised him and screamed. The sound echoing through the branching passages and vaults made all of them – Chassim, Berbelin and the two men – start in alarm. Now there was no holding Anna back. She hurried out and flung her arms around the neck of the man with the burn scar to the amazement of his broad-shouldered companion.
‘Father!’ Anna cried exuberantly. ‘Father, you are alive!’
Then she sobbed unrestrainedly on his shoulder while Chassim emerged from the niche with Berbelin and greeted the other man.
‘You are late, Brother Thomas,’ he said.
Chapter X
The archbishop was used to rising at cockcrow, so this morning was no hardship for him. First, he wanted to commune with God in the castle chapel before having a light breakfast, after which he would give his wholehearted attention to the medica. Having freshened up and dressed with the help of his valet, he put on his purple zucchetto and left his comfortable guest room, descending to the reception hall of the palas where his soldiers were still asleep on the hay-covered floor.
Konrad von Hochstaden didn’t pay them any attention but opened the large entrance door to breathe in deeply the cool, fresh morning air and take a look at the two pyres which were set up and ready. The archbishop enjoyed his early morning tour as there was nobody around to bother or disturb him. But he was most annoyed to see that the heavy oak door of the keep, beneath which lay the dungeons, stood wide open and not a single guard was to be seen. What could this mean?
The Apothecary's Secret Page 36