Death and the Devil

On her right sat a man in his late forties drinking wine from a pewter goblet. A younger man was standing beside him, motionless. Matthias, leaning against the door frame, thoughtfully observed a man in his early twenties who was restlessly pacing up and down by the windows before finally stopping in front of the old woman and the man seated next to her.

“Gerhard won’t talk,” he said.

“I have no doubt he won’t talk,” said the man with the goblet after a pause during which only the rasp of the old woman’s breathing was to be heard. “The only question is: for how long?”

Matthias pushed himself away from the door frame and slowly walked into the middle of the room. “Kuno, we all know the architect is your friend. I’m as convinced as you are that Gerhard will not betray us. He has more honor in his little finger than is in the fat bodies of all the priests of Cologne put together.” He stopped in front of the younger man and looked him straight in the eye. “But what I believe won’t necessarily correspond to the facts. We have everything to gain, but also everything to lose.”

“It’ll all be over in a few days anyway,” said Kuno imploringly. “Until then Gerhard won’t do anything to harm us.”

“And afterward?” The other young man stepped forward, his fist clenched in fury. “What’s the use of all our precautions if we end up celebrating the success of our scheme broken on the wheel with the crows gorging themselves on our eyes? On yours, too, Kuno! They’ll peck out those dreamy eyes of yours that look at the world with all the sharpness of a newborn baby.”

The older man raised his hand. “That’s enough, Daniel.”

“Enough?!” Daniel’s fist crashed down on the table. “While this sentimental fool is exposing us to ruin?”

“I said that’s enough!”

Matthias stepped in. “Your father’s right, Daniel. Arguing among ourselves is not going to help our cause. It’s bad enough having an ass like Heinrich in our ranks.”

“That was unavoidable,” muttered Daniel.

“Sometimes even idiots have their uses,” Matthias admitted, “and his money’s a handy ally. As you see, I accept inevitable risks. However”—he placed his index finger to his lips as was his habit when he wasn’t a hundred percent certain of something—“we must be sure we can trust Gerhard.”

“We are,” said Kuno softly.

“Like piss, we are!” Daniel screamed.

“Stop this!” The older man leaped up and slammed his goblet down on the table. “Use your brains instead of blurting out the first thing that comes into your head. Where’s the problem? We discussed a matter of common interest and Gerhard, a highly respected citizen and dear friend whose opinion we all value, decided not to join us. As was his right, I say. We should have taken that into account before indulging in such careless talk. If there’s a problem, it’s of our own making.”

“But we’re not talking of who’s to blame,” said Daniel.

“No? Well, anyway, it’s happened and Kuno here is ready to vouch for his friend’s discretion.”

“That’s just what he can’t do,” Daniel exclaimed. “Gerhard made it quite clear what he thought of our plan.”

“He rejected our offer to join the group. So what? That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s going to betray us.”

Daniel glowered but said nothing.

“True, Johann,” said Matthias. “But it doesn’t mean we have a guarantee, either. What do you suggest?”

“We must talk to Gerhard again. Assure ourselves of his loyalty. From what I know of him, I’m sure we’ll all be able to sleep soundly after that.” Johann looked at Kuno, who couldn’t hide his relief. “I think it’s in the interest of our young friend here, too.”

“Thank you,” whispered Kuno. “I’m sure you won’t regret it.”

Johann inclined his head. “And you can tell your brothers they needn’t worry.”

Kuno hesitated, then gave a curt nod and left the room.

For some time Johann, Matthias, Daniel, and the woman in the shadows remained in silence. From outside came the scrunch of the wheels of a passing cart, the faint sound of voices, scraps of conversation. A crowd of children ran past, arguing noisily.

Finally Johann said, in an expressionless tone, “What shall we do, Mother?”

Her voice was no more than a rustle of dry leaves.

“Kill him.”

THE GREAT WALL

On the way back to the place he called his home, Jacob suddenly decided to visit Tilman, a friend who lived in a somewhat less salubrious neighborhood.

To call where either of them lived a “neighborhood” was a joke. During the last few years, however, a bizarre hierarchy had developed among the poorest of the poor, who didn’t even have a place in one of the hospices or convents, and the status muri, the “privilege of the Wall,” was part of it.