I moved silently over to the door and placed my ear up to it. ‘What now?’ I heard the bishop yell.
Then Master Nicodemus, with an even voice, said, ‘Your Lordship, the Crow woman wishes us . . . you . . . to make a donation.’
‘What for?’ the bishop shouted.
‘The Children’s Crusade, my Lord.’
‘No!’
‘The crows, my Lord. The donation is in return for ridding us of the crows.’
There followed a moment’s silence and then came the expostulation. ‘What! This mangy bitch, this tweeting little whore would threaten me? Take her out and flog her! That will change her mind soon enough. A good flogging! Who does she think she is that she would threaten the bishop of Cologne?’
‘She does not fear for her life and says she places it in God’s hands. She is very popular with the common people, my Lord. A flogging will not serve your reputation well.’
‘Peasants, fools! I have no need of their approbation!’
‘I do not think a flogging will cause her to send the crows away, my Lord. Perhaps she will cause more to appear,’ he warned. There was no doubt that Master Nicodemus knew his mark.
There was a silence, then the bishop’s voice, this time somewhat mollified, ‘What does this wretched woman want? This donation to that damnable crusade, what is it?’
‘A wagon and four mules, my Lord. With harness.’
‘What?’ the bishop exploded. ‘Is she mad? Nay! Over my dead body!’
‘The crows, my Lord,’ Master Nicodemus said in a soothing voice.
More silence. Then, ‘When she has done the deed, give her an old cart and a donkey.’ The bishop chuckled. ‘Yes, excellent! An old cart and a donkey. Do we also have an old donkey?’
Silence. Then from Master Nicodemus, spoken carefully, ‘My Lord, this is a stubborn wench. I fear she will simply bring back the crows, perhaps ravens and jackdaws as well,’ he cleverly suggested.
Silence. Then, ‘Must I do all the thinking? When she has rid us of the crows, kill her. Let us see how she calls their return from the grave, eh?’
‘My Lord?’
‘Kill her!’
‘My Lord, I most humbly beg you to reconsider. This is no ordinary peasant maid, but is known among the people as the Petticoat Angel. They believe she has performed several miracles and even the good Abbot of Disibodenberg speaks of one such at the funeral of Brother Dominic.’
‘That old fool!’ the bishop interrupted. ‘What would he know? He speaks through his arse and his thoughts are so puerile he is punished with piles!’
Master Nicodemus ignored the bishop’s humour, though perhaps smiling, then continued, ‘Now she helps to lead the Children’s Crusade with the boy Nicholas. This is a most popular cause and has great support among the commonfolk, more so because she helps to lead it. This incident of crows they may well see as God’s punishment on thee, and see her as His instrument of its deliverance. It will sit badly with the people if you harm her as she is most popular and some think her already a saint. There is also the matter of your excommunication of the four women and her restoration by the archbishop at the inquiry. If you should be known to be her murderer, you will have to answer to him as well.’
It was most bravely spoken and I waited with my heart pounding. ‘Bah! I slept not a wink last night!’ the bishop complained. ‘It is her fault that I am not now archbishop and she must pay! What use is it to be bishop when I cannot do as I wish?’
‘May I make a suggestion, my Lord?’
‘What?’
‘We will give her the wagon, mules and harness and send her away with your blessing and a prayer for the safe keeping of the Children’s Crusade. You will sprinkle holy water upon the wagon and the mules. All the servants will be present to see your piety and benevolence. Then I shall send two gossips, two scouring women from the kitchen, who will spread this tale to your benefit among the people of the markets and then, soon enough, the simple folk of Cologne will speak of it to thy glory.’
‘But . . . but I shall have lost a good wagon and four mules and she shall escape punishment!’ the bishop protested. ‘I like it not, Master Nicodemus. I like it not at all. They will think her gain of a wagon and mules a triumph of her own clever contrivance. Bishops do not give wagons and mules to peasants.’
‘Ah, I have not yet cracked to the kernel of this nut, my Lord. Sad news follows. Brigands come upon this wagon driven by a lone young maid. Alas, she is killed, the wagon purloined.’
‘Raped and killed!’ the bishop demanded, his voice suddenly excited.
‘Aye, if you wish, my Lord. The rape is clever – she is a comely wench – and when the corpse is found it will add more veracity to this sad tale.’
‘Ah, but how will my wagon and mules be returned to me without it being seen as complicity?’
Silence followed. Then Master Nicodemus said, ‘Two of your soldiers on horseback, well-armed, will come upon the wagon and, recognising it to be yours, will set upon the two brigands, who unfortunately will flee for their lives before they can be apprehended. Alas, they will find the raped and battered body lying at the roadside and bring it hence together with the wagon, all the while appearing innocent of the plot. The soldiers and the brigands, they are, of course, the selfsame two!’ he explained, in case the bishop had missed the point.
‘Ah, neatly done! Who can you trust among my men not to talk? They are a lazy, good-for-nothing lot,’ the bishop grumbled.
‘The pocked and the scarred, the two you sent to frighten her when she came with the priests. Pockmark Hans and Scarface Kurt, both are seasoned soldiers and crusaders and well accustomed to killing. Both have good reason not to love this wench and to undertake both tasks. They are lewd and will rape her, then kill her with alacrity and can be trusted to shut their gobs.’
‘Excellent! You are a worthy man, Master Nicodemus,’ the bishop exclaimed.
‘Then you will give the poor wretch the last rites posthumously and cause her to be buried at St Mary’s with a great outpouring of grief. Her burial must be a most public affair, with your solemn promise that her many “miracles” will be most conscientiously investigated by the Church.’ Master Nicodemus said all this with a voice rising to a conspiratorial giggle. He was plainly delighted with this neat solution to my ultimate demise.
‘These brigands waiting in ambush who turn into soldiers, is there yet time to set up this cunning plot?’
‘I shall send them ahead within the hour on some good pretext. It will be noon before the crows are cleared from the palace and the wagon ready to depart. There is time sufficient, my Lord.’
‘Go to it, Master Nicodemus, I can see your guile is well up to this task. See that I am not disturbed until the wagon departs. Send the boy Matthew to me.’
‘You do not wish to witness the departure of the crows, my Lord?’
‘Nay, I must not be present – there must be no record that I bore witness. When the crows are departed we will make light of it, a few stray crows nesting in the beams she incidentally called away when she visited the palace to ask for a donation of a wagon and mules.’
‘Which, naturally, you gave without thought for the expense and with a full heart and your blessing.’
‘Precisely! You are not the only one around here who has a modicum of guile, Master Nicodemus. I shall bless this purely “temporary departure” of my wagon and mules when it is time. It will be we who do the ultimate crowing, eh, Master Nicodemus?’ he chortled.
‘Very clever, my Lord. I am humbled by your intelligence,’ the servant said, licking the bishop’s fat arse.
I retreated from the door and went to stand beside the large door where I had been previously left. I was concerned for poor little Matthew but knew I must put him from my mind, as I would need all my wits about me to survive this day. Master Nicodemus soon appeared. There was a smile upon his face when he spoke. ‘I am happy to say the bishop has agreed and is pleased at the prospect of a donati
on to the Children’s Crusade. He wishes also to bless your departure.’ He paused and looked at me sternly. ‘That is, of course, if the crows are seen to depart from the palace.’
I looked suitably relieved. ‘Thank you, thank you, Master Nicodemus.’ I then paused and said, ‘Alas, you did not tell me the nature of my task before I came, or I would have told you that I would need help, sire.’
‘Help? You did not need help to summon the birds?’ he said suspiciously.
‘Nay, a ridding is different. If I am to cast the crows from the palace then I must end as I began. The two men who were sent to frighten me in the bedchamber, the one with the scars to his face and the other pockmarked, must be by my side throughout so that the crows will know they may no longer be attacked by them nor by any other person who may enter the palace. This is an essential part of the ridding.’
‘I think they have both been sent on an errand,’ he said quickly.
I took on an expression of the utmost concern. ‘Alas! Then we are forced to await their return. Their presence is essential!’ I cried. It was as if I heard Master Israel’s voice: ‘If you know the plot then it is soon undone, the trick is to undo it so that it appears as if it failed due to unforeseen circumstances and not at your own hand. In this way you may escape, then when you strike back, it is in your own good time and your enemy is taken completely by surprise.’
‘I will see, perchance they have not yet left,’ Master Nicodemus now said.
‘There is one more thing, Master Nicodemus. If I may say so, a most fortunate coincidence and greatly in favour of this ridding. Beneath the elm tree by the palace gate waits my friend, who you would not allow to accompany me last night. He is a piper and has special gifts. I shall need his flute to calm these angry birds before I send them away. The crow, as you are aware, is a bird of prey and so naturally bold, and in such great numbers may well attack the two men and pluck out their eyes. I must have the Pied Piper of Hamelin with his calming flute beside me.’
‘Very well,’ he said stiffly. He then stepped forward and made to open the door.
I placed my hand upon his arm. ‘Nay, tarry! Where does it lead?’
I asked.
‘To the main hall. You must go in.’
‘And you also? Will you come?’
He drew back, startled. ‘Nay!’
I grinned. ‘Then neither shall I. It is much too dangerous. We must first be well prepared and I must go through the front door, the same way as I formerly left the palace. But I must assure you,’ I emphasised once again, ‘I may only do so with your two men and the piper at my side.’
He cleared his throat. ‘Hurrumph! As you wish, Fräulein Sylvia.’ It was said with a tincture of respect. Perhaps, with his plot so soon beginning to unravel, he was less pleased with himself, though I knew myself still to be in mortal danger and must not be seen to overplay my hand. This was a very clever man with a quick mind and not to be trusted. Every step I took with him must help to assure my safety.
We walked back to the stables where Master Nicodemus instructed a stable hand to, as he put it, ‘See if Hans and Kurt have not yet left and fetch them to me at the front of the palace.’
‘Nay, they have not left. I have not been asked to harness their horses, Master,’ the lad replied.
‘Good. Find them and send them to me immediately.’
A stable boy was also sent to bring Reinhardt to the front of the palace. My earnest hope, for much rested upon it, was that he’d made good his word and followed me. A night spent in the open under the elm tree would not be much to his liking and with his new French manners he might have sought shelter on the way, planning to arrive later in the morning. Reinhardt wasn’t one for roughing it and I had previously wondered how he would endure when once we were on the crusade. But, true to his word, he soon stood at my side, though looking somewhat bedraggled and not his usually spruced-up self. I had also told Master Nicodemus to summon all the servants and peasants from the bishop’s estate. He had departed to give instructions, so that the ratcatcher and I stood alone. I quickly explained what had happened with the crows.
‘Aye, the gatekeeper has told me,’ he replied. ‘They speak of it as a curse upon the bishop by “the angel”. They think of you as near a saint, Sylvia, and your miracles are well-known among the bishop’s women servants.’
‘You must have been most uncomfortable sleeping in the open, I know it is not to your liking,’ I said in an attempt to change the subject away from myself.
Reinhardt gave a short laugh. ‘Nay, I shared the gatekeeper’s fire and his broth last night and slept in the gatekeeper’s hut. He gave me a sheepskin so that I might keep warm.’
‘Lucky you,’ I said. As usual he had landed on his feet.
He sniffed. ‘You smell terrible, Sylvia! Did it not go well with you?’
‘I pissed myself and, nay, I was locked in a prison cell,’ I replied, perhaps a little over-dramatically. ‘I will explain later.’
‘Hmm . . . Nice people, so much for the adoring servants,’ he said, one eyebrow raised.
‘Reinhardt, you must do exactly as I ask – we are in mortal danger and we risk our very lives.’
‘What? Is it the crows? The ridding?’
‘Nay, the bishop wishes me, us, killed when the ridding is done.’ Servants were beginning to gather and, as quickly as I might, I explained the situation, the donation of the wagon and the later ambush planned to kill me.
He gave a low whistle. ‘I should have stayed in France, you’re nothing but trouble, Sylvia,’ he grinned.
‘Please, be serious, ratcatcher! You must do as I say,’ I said in an urgent whisper, as Master Nicodemus was seen to approach with the two soldiers, Hans and Kurt, at his side. I must say, for fierce soldiers who had embarked upon a crusade, their ugly faces wore an expression of utmost apprehension. I looked directly at them as they approached and both lowered their eyes.
‘I have told them they must enter with you,’ Master Nicodemus said as he drew up. He nodded at Reinhardt.
‘Good morrow, sire, we meet again,’ Reinhardt said cheerily, so that I was forced to chasten him with an angry look. The bishop’s man simply grunted, thinking, no doubt, that this piper fellow was yet another unexpected knot he must untie in the plot to kill me.
‘Hans and Kurt, is it?’ I asked in a friendly voice. ‘Who is Kurt?’
‘I am Kurt, fräulein.’ It was Scarface who answered, though without looking at me. Both stood with their shoulders hunched, looking down at their feet, their hands clasped behind their backs. And then I saw the peck marks to their necks received when they had attempted to escape – angry red marks where the beaks had struck at them, as if they were infected with the pox.
‘The first thing I wish you both to know is that I bear you no malice – what happened is in the past. I truly regret that you must now accompany me into the bishop’s palace.’ I shrugged. ‘But alas, there isn’t any other way. What began in one way must end in the same manner. Birds are easily confused,’ I explained. ‘And crows very dangerous when they become so. If they attack you, cover your eyes, and even if they peck your fingers to the very bone do not take them away. Better a crippled claw that may eventually heal than blindness, eh?’ I said, hoping I was not spreading the gory details too thickly for credence.
I glanced up at Master Nicodemus and saw from the look in his eyes that he took this instruction to the two men and the possibility that they would be severely injured for a known fact. He too must have seen where the crows had previously pecked them. I touched my neck to indicate their peck marks. ‘You have been punished sufficiently as it is,’ I said sympathetically. ‘Now, you must each stand to the side of me while the piper with his calming tune will be two steps ahead. We are now in God’s hands. Let us pray silently to our Saviour that we are spared and come out of this ordeal no worse than when we went into it.’
I could see as they came to stand beside me that they were truly afraid – big, bur
ly men with great barrel chests shaking like a leaf. Reinhardt then took up his place in front of me and started to play a dirge that would well suit a funeral procession. We arrived at the great door to the front of the palace and Reinhardt halted and continued to play as I moved forward. Then with my stave I tapped, as might the prophet Elijah have done upon the rock that brought forth water in the desert, three times for the effect it would have on the servants and serfs who watched. Then I lifted the latch and pushed at one of the doors, but it didn’t budge. I turned to Kurt and indicated he should open it, but he shook his head furiously, refusing. Then to Hans, who did the same, both men fearful and drawing back, afraid to open the door lest the crows within attack them. Placing my stave to lean against the door to the left, I pushed the other, using both hands to swing it open. A murmur rose from the servants watching.
Though I had seen the crows flying in and out of palace windows all the while we’d stood outside, and heard their cawing through the stout door and thick stone walls, I was not prepared for the noise that met us. A mighty roar issued from the interior, from the entrance chamber and from the great hall beyond it, so that I knew my voice would not be heard. Even if I should scream it would be drowned in this furious cacophony of beating wings and bird cries. A thousand, nay five thousand, even more, the concatenation of cawing crows seemed to boil the thickened air above me, and they were so numerous they appeared as one great whirling creature. I knew as I stepped into the entrance hall that we were done for, that there could be no ridding of these birds. The sharp stink of bird shit assaulted my nostrils and I thought I must choke.
I retreated back to Reinhardt and shrugged. ‘We are done for!’ I shouted. But so great had the noise become that I could no longer hear his flute, even though he stood before me. Whether he read my lips or possibly heard me I cannot say, but he nodded and his eyes closed, his cheeks puffed out and he began to turn scarlet as he blew upon his pipe. I had seen him do this once before, when he’d summoned the rats in the village on the first night we had been together. Then, as I now supposed, the notes he played were well beyond a pitch that might be heard by the human ear.
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