‘Gero!’ he shouted loudly and the whole courtyard echoed. ‘Gero?!’
He heard footsteps and an armed man came hurrying from the keep, sword in hand. It was Gero, his face vivid with excitement as he ran towards the archbishop.
‘She is gone!’ he spluttered out.
‘Who is gone?’ the archbishop asked with dismay even though he knew the answer.
‘The medica. She is gone! I am in the process of having the dungeons searched for her; her cell is empty. And the door is open.’
The archbishop briefly closed his eyes to control the anger that was boiling in him.
‘It can’t be true. Search everywhere!’ he shouted. ‘Search the entire castle!’ he screamed.
‘You can save yourself the trouble, your grace,’ a clear voice said behind the archbishop.
He turned around to face Count Georg, who appeared to have come from the castle chapel, gesturing for the archbishop to follow.
‘May I ask you to follow me? And it might be best for your nephew to join us since what we have to discuss concerns him, too.’
The archbishop and Gero exchanged a surprised glance. For a brief moment Konrad von Hochstaden was unsettled but he quickly regained control of himself and said: ‘Should this turn out to be a bad joke, Count von Landskron, rest assured that there will be serious consequences for all concerned.’
‘No, your grace, I assure you that the matter is deadly serious. Please . . .’
The count walked straight ahead to the entrance of the castle chapel without looking to see whether the archbishop and his nephew were following.
Intensely irritated by this affront, the archbishop snapped at Gero: ‘Put away your weapons and come,’ before striding off behind the count into the chapel.
When they were standing inside the gloomy chapel, one of the count’s guards closed the door behind them. Gero immediately went for his sword but the archbishop’s signal made him stop mid-draw. They had company. To the left and the right of the middle aisle stood the count, his wife, the medica, Sir Chassim, the medica’s maid, a huge monk whom the archbishop did not recognise and an old bearded man with a burn scar.
Not a greeting was uttered nor an introduction made in the exceedingly oppressive and expectant atmosphere. Imperiously the archbishop broke the silence. ‘What is the meaning of this? Why is this witch walking around freely? Who dares to contravene my orders?’
The count began to speak. ‘I have been instructed by those assembled here, your grace, to speak in their name. It concerns the medica. If I tell you what has happened in the past – for which we have the clear statements of a witness as well as documentary proof – you will see Anna Ahrweiler, her origins and activities, in a wholly different light and be forced to change your opinion of her. Therefore hear me.’
The archbishop shook his head. ‘I have not the slightest intention of doing so. I will have my men apprehend and lock up all of you standing here. Gero, we are leaving and should anybody try to stop us, make use of your sword.’
Konrad von Hochstaden turned around to head for the exit when somebody called after him in a sharp voice: ‘If you leave now the whole world will learn that you are my uncle, Konrad von Hochstaden! You have a witch for a niece – how do you like that, your grace?!’
The archbishop stopped abruptly as if struck by an arrow between the shoulder blades.
‘What are you saying, Anna from Ahrweiler?’ He turned around to her. ‘Are you hoping that perhaps with your devilish pack of lies you might poison my mind and soul? I will not have a convicted witch defame me. Do you really believe that there is anybody in the world stupid enough to believe your outrageous and impertinent words, which only Satan could have whispered to you?’
Just then the count handed the archbishop a stack of documents and letters.
So great was her triumph, Anna’s eyes were sparkling as she watched the archbishop read. She knew that the evidence that the archbishop had just been presented was beyond doubt because it was too substantial and irrefutable, and the witness who had brought it too incorruptible and truthful. The proof was provided by the one person who knew everything about Anna – her father, whom she had thought dead. He had hurried to her rescue.
When Anna disappeared into the river, he had been pulled from his burning cottage at the last moment by the few village people who had no desire to be entertained by the execution of Brother Marian. For his wife, Anna’s mother, help had come too late. But the compassionate neighbours took the unconscious Caspar to Heisterbach Monastery where he was nursed back to health. His recuperation took a long time as his burn wounds were severe. Out of gratitude for his rescue and recovery, Caspar stayed on in the monastery as a lay brother. Totally convinced that his wife and daughter were dead, he saw his future in a life that was pleasing to God, offering the labour of his hands to the monastery and praying for what had been dearest to him and what he had lost, his family.
So time passed until the day when another brother told him about a medica with different-coloured eyes who was admired in Oppenheim for her healing arts. From that moment an irrational hope took root in Caspar: perhaps God had worked a miracle and saved Anna from drowning after she had been forced by the archbishop’s henchmen to jump into the river as the village people had told him.
Caspar thought of a message, which he encrypted in such a way that only Anna could interpret it. Later he entrusted it to a man who occasionally travelled to Oppenheim and who would make sure that Anna received it.
When Brother Thomas arrived at the Heisterbach Monastery graveyard at the exact time on the appointed night, he told Caspar that Anna was to be accused of witchcraft. Caspar insisted that they ride to Oppenheim without delay to testify before the court. He wanted to save Anna’s life by revealing the truth of his daughter’s origins.
Caspar and his wife were not Anna’s natural parents, but her foster parents. In truth, Anna was the legitimate heir of Harald von Hochstaden, the brother of Konrad von Hochstaden. Anna’s natural father took the cross shortly after her birth almost seventeen years earlier and left for the Holy Land. When Adelheid, her mother, fell ill with sweating sickness she did not consign her little daughter to the care of the Hochstadens, her brothers-in-law Konrad and Lothar von Hochstaden, but instead placed her with her steward whom she trusted and who had small children himself. Adelheid died shortly after. When some time later the steward and his family perished in a terrible plague, the little girl was taken in by Caspar and Gret in Ahrweiler out of pity, as they had been friendly with the steward. Because they knew who Anna really was and feared for her life if her story became known, they took her to Heisterbach Monastery when she was seven years old. From then on she grew up as Brother Marian in the care of Father Urban, the infirmarius and a friend of Caspar’s, because Harald von Hochstaden never returned from the Holy Land.
This, her story, Anna had only learned from her foster father the night before when she met him in the secret passages beneath the city. Suddenly her luck had turned as she was now in possession of facts which the archbishop could not simply brush aside but had to listen to in front of witnesses. Caspar from Ahrweiler knew that the deceased infirmarius Father Urban had all the evidence and documents which attested to Anna’s origins, and he knew where they were kept. They were hidden in the cover of the book ‘Dialogus Miraculorum’, the work of Caesarius von Heisterbach, former abbot of the monastery.
After a feverish search, Caspar and Brother Thomas had located the documents and then headed for Oppenheim, finally reaching the medica’s house after a monumental ride. There they met Chassim’s faithful grooms in the barn who were waiting for their master and Anna to come with the horse and wagon to assist their flight. The grooms informed Caspar and Brother Thomas about the medica’s life-and-death situation, whereupon both men decided to try to reach Anna via the secret passage. Brother Thomas had only used the tunnels once before when he had fled the medica’s house on his mission to Heisterbach. Anna had gu
ided him then, and in his hurry he hadn’t committed to memory the exact way through the labyrinth. Chassim had given him a rough sketch of the path to the Landskron keep, but nevertheless it was an undertaking fraught with danger.
In the secret passage however, they had chanced upon Anna, Chassim and Berbelin. As soon as the first joy at seeing each other again had passed, they had hurried back through the passageways and the dungeons to the palas as fast as possible for the injured Chassim, and managed to reach the count’s bed chamber unseen. At first Count Georg thought the people in his room were the archbishop’s henchmen come to arrest him. Once the entire story had been revealed to him, he came to share the opinion of the others: it was time to go on the attack and to confront the archbishop in the presence of witnesses with the truth about Anna Ahrweiler.
When Konrad von Hochstaden had studied the documents and letters carefully, he handed them back to the count. There were too many credible witnesses present for him to have dared destroy them all. As an experienced commander who had fought many a battle, the archbishop knew when it was time to capitulate and beat an ordered retreat so as not to make matters worse. He stepped in front of the medica and, looking directly into her face, asked: ‘What do you want from me, Anna von Hochstaden? Your title, or even your estate which has long passed to my brother and through him to Gero von Hochstaden, your cousin?’ he said, pointing to his nephew who seemed completely shocked by the new situation.
The medica coolly replied: ‘You can’t bestow the title on me, your grace, as I already own it unalienably and rightfully from my birth. You do not doubt the authenticity of the documents, do you?’
‘No, not at all.’
‘Well, then it follows that I am due my title as well as my estate, isn’t that correct?’
Trying desperately to take matters into his own hands again, the archbishop replied, ‘You are wrong there. Are you not aware that according to the existing law of the Holy Roman Empire, properties can only be inherited through the male line and that female hereditary claims are thereby categorically excluded?’
The medica hesitated; obviously she was not familiar with such regulations.
The archbishop sensed that he was getting the upper hand, but before he could deliver a devastating response, the massive monk joined the conversation.
‘Objection, with respect, your grace,’ he said mellifluously. ‘As far as I am aware there exists an exception, a lex Hochstaden.’
The archbishop pretended not to have the slightest idea what the monk was referring to.
But the latter continued calmly: ‘I have informed myself of this in your own monastery of Heisterbach. Fortunately you have there in your armarium an excellent little law library and it was precisely there that I made my discovery – in a decree of the late archbishop Rainald von Dassel, who brought one of the greatest relics of humanity from Milan to Cologne, one that remains of course in the possession of your diocese. Your grace knows that I’m referring to the relics of the Three Wise Men.’
The monk continued, obviously enjoying annoying the archbishop with his long-winded explanation. ‘Your esteemed predecessor who was also chancellor of our late emperor, Frederick I Barbarossa, has expressly granted to the princely house of von Hochstaden the principle of female succession. Now isn’t that a providential coincidence, your grace?’
Archbishop Konrad von Hochstaden shot his opponent an irate glance.
‘You may be right there,’ he replied. ‘It must have escaped me . . .’
And to save himself from further embarrassment, he turned to the medica asking curtly: ‘Anyway, what are you demanding, Anna von Hochstaden?’
Anna took a deep breath before replying: ‘I am not interested in your ill-gotten possessions, if that is what you fear. I demand here and now an acquittal of the charge of heresy and of being a witch. Moreover, I ask that no further or future persecution or charge be brought because of it, and that includes all of my companions without exception. I will continue to work as a medica with your express approval wherever I choose for as long as I want without having to fear deceit or false accusations. I will retain my rightful title, but I will not use it. That is all.’
The archbishop looked gloomy and remained silent. Everybody was waiting for his reply and at last he asked: ‘And what if I agree?’
‘You will get our assurance that nothing of what was discussed in here will ever leave this chapel,’ the medica replied. ‘For what was done to the late Abbot Melchior and the infirmarius Father Urban as well as to my mother, my father and to myself you will have to render an account to God. No earthly court can do it; you have seen to that. I am not interested in revenge. I am Anna the medica and I see my task in healing and saving life, not in destroying it.’
She was looking steadfastly at the archbishop during this profession. Konrad von Hochstaden did not lower his eyes but returned her look coldly. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked to the door.
Gero’s sword hand briefly twitched before he followed his uncle hesitantly. The count’s guards opened the door and marched out behind him. It started to rain heavily.
When the door closed behind the archbishop and his nephew, the almost unbearable tension among those who remained eased. But there were no cheers; nobody said anything.
It was over.
Brother Thomas made the sign of the cross and murmured a prayer of thanks to Heaven before he shook Caspar Ahrweiler’s hand; the count gently kissed his wife on both hands; Berbelin knelt in front of the altar, closed her eyes and prayed; and Anna leaned against Chassim’s shoulder and he held her close. No longer did they have to hide their love from anybody.
Chapter XI
The archbishop’s closed travelling car rumbled through the heavy rain along the bumpy road leading out of Oppenheim. The bodyguards riding ahead and behind as an escort were wet to the skin, and with their drenched capes and dripping hoods hanging from their shoulders they looked like defeated soldiers returning from the war.
The archbishop was leaning back on the damp upholstery, his eyes closed. Gero, who had been waiting a full hour for his uncle to address him, was literally in shock. He was still asking himself how this witch had managed to get away unscathed after all. Moreover, she was his cousin. It couldn’t have been worse. He would have loved somehow to shout out in his rage or to vent his frustration somehow. But here in this uncomfortable vehicle in the presence of his uncle in his current mood it was advisable to suffer this cross for the love of God.
The departure from Landskron Castle had been anything but glamorous. To the infinite bafflement of the crowd assembled in the reception hall, the archbishop and Inquisitor Konrad von Hochstaden had declared the medica innocent and therefore free. The castle chaplain, the city mayor and the abbot were appalled; the witch, her lover Chassim, her foster father, the count and his wife, the monk and others triumphant. In the ensuing tumult and occasional applause, Gero at first had no idea what to do, as the public defeat of his uncle had completely devastated him. Now he was brooding silently; he thought of revenge, terrible, bloody revenge, and in his head a sort of a plan began to take shape. A sinister, murderous plan of how he might still manage to destroy his cousin . . .
Just then his uncle’s voice interrupted Gero’s imaginings.
‘I think the time has come, Gero, to let you into a family secret; a terrible secret that weighs heavily on my soul. And one which your father – God rest his soul – has burdened us with.’
Since Gero was still somewhere else altogether in his thoughts, he asked: ‘Since when did you know that Brother Marian is Anna, my cousin and your niece?’
‘I didn’t know it . . . but I suspected it – ever since I looked into Brother Marian’s eyes in the reception hall of Heisterbach monastery. I should have remembered then, but in my pride I did not pay it any heed. This was a major and irreparable mistake and God has punished me for it. He gave me a sign by showing me her eyes and I overlooked it.
How could that ever have happened to me?’ The archbishop shook his head sombrely. Then he continued: ‘Anna inherited her mother’s eyes. My sister-in-law Adelheid also had one brown and one green eye; I knew her well.’
‘And what about my Uncle Harald?’
‘Well, Adelheid died of sweating sickness, and he returned from the Holy Land after three years. Harald had been captured by the Moors and was a broken man ever after, destroyed both in body and soul. But he claimed back from your father what was his by rights. In the meantime, your father had annexed Harald’s lands into his own county, which was perfectly consistent with the law as Harald had been declared missing and presumed dead and there were no other surviving heirs. That’s what we thought because at the time we assumed that Anna, too, had died of the fever. That was the moment when your father committed the mortal sin which he confessed to me later.’
‘My father . . . my uncle?’ Gero did not dare put his suspicion into words.
‘Yes, Gero. Your father killed him during an argument and later disposed of his body. Circumstances were favourable. Nobody knew that Harald had returned in the middle of the night looking like a ragged beggar. So to this day he is thought lost, lost in the Holy Land.’
‘If that becomes known . . .’
‘Why should it? Nobody knows about it except you and me. Not even your mother. Your father may have wanted to tell you at the hour of his death, but he took his secret to the grave with him.’
‘And Anna? What if Anna learns of this?’
‘How should she?’
‘Because she is a witch!’
‘Yes, yes, that she is indeed. But we cannot do anything against her. Our hands are tied.’
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