Death and the Devil

Gerhard’s concept. Gerhard had not soared. He had fallen.

Jacob tore his eyes away from the architecture. His hands clasped the next rung, and the next, and the next. He reached the second level and continued to climb. The edge of the roof was getting closer.

All at once he started and nearly let go, but the thing that had suddenly emerged from the stone beside him was only a grotesque gargoyle. Nothing to worry about. Not yet.

Then he had reached the top of the wall and was looking out in wonder over the great segmented curve of roofs on the chapels, gently sloping gable roofs, almost impossible to walk on. For a brief moment Jacob was reminded of a range of rolling hills with a deep, gloomy chasm yawning in the middle. Above it stretched the further landscape of the walkways and platforms of the scaffolding. Almost unreal in the distance, the towers of the old cathedral tried to assert themselves, but from this perspective they were nothing but sacred toys.

Jacob quickly climbed the last rungs to stand on the top of the scaffolding. From here narrow walkways and platforms led to all parts of the chancel. There was nobody to be seen. Some distance away, at the northern end, he could see two tread wheels, each large enough to take two men, one beside the other. He would hide in one until Urquhart came. Poking out from behind the wheels was a low, crudely made chest. Jacob hoped it was used to keep tools in. Without some kind of weapon he might as well go straight back down.

Cautiously he made his way along the airy walkways. When he had almost reached the wheels he went to the edge and looked down inside the chancel.

It was breathtaking.

Each of the piers supporting the structure and separating the chapels seemed to be composed of many smaller columns of varying diameter, crowned by capitals of petrified foliage below the sweep of the vaults and arcades. Jacob was looking down into a ravine, as frightening as it was wonderful, an abyss containing nothing broad or bulky, only endless vertical lines.

Suddenly Jacob realized what kind of man Urquhart had pushed off the scaffolding.

His eye took in the central chapel. He could clearly see the pulpit from which Conrad was to preach. The archbishop could scarcely have chosen a better place—from the point of view of the assassin.

He took a step back and looked out over the roofs of the city to the hills of the County of Berg. The sun would soon be rising. A blur of noise reached his ear. He couldn’t see the procession, the streets were too narrow, but he could hear the singing and the jostle of the crowd. The wind tousled his hair. It was beautiful up here. Had Gerhard flown, too, he wondered, the architect taking flight? Some run away, others try to soar aloft.

He leaned forward again, as far as he could. Perhaps he’d see something even more wonderful.

Come on, a voice whispered in his head, it’s time you were hiding.

In a minute. It’s so beautiful here.

Quick!

In a minute.

Quick!!

Yes, in a minute. I just want to—

“What a pity I can’t push you over just there.”

Jacob felt a thousand tiny birds take off in his stomach, fluttering their wings in panic. Before he could turn around, he was dragged back and dumped on the planks with a jolt.

Urquhart was grinning down at him. He looked terrible. The left side of his face was in a bad way, the eyebrows singed off. Not much of his blond mane was left.

“Incredible sometimes, the way old friends meet, isn’t it?”

Jacob hastily slid backward and tried to get to his feet. Urquhart’s arm came down. The fingers grasped his habit and lifted him up like an empty sack.

“Thought you’d gotten rid of me, did you?” Urquhart laughed. His fist came flying and a bolt of lightning flashed right through Jacob’s head. He slammed painfully into the edge of the nearest tread wheel, fell to his knees, and was pulled up again.

“You thought wrong.”

The next blow was to his solar plexus. Pain stabbed through every part of his body. He slumped to the floor by the wheel in a writhing heap.

“Nobody gets rid of me.”

Jacob gagged. He pushed himself up on his hands and collapsed again. His mouth was filled with the metallic taste of blood. Urquhart bent down and pulled him up with both hands. Jacob’s feet were off the ground. He kicked out helplessly, flailed his arms, and tried to grab Urquhart’s throat.

“Nobody, do you hear?” Urquhart whispered. “I’m inside your head. You can’t drive me away, can’t burn me or drown me. Your hatred isn’t enough to defeat me, it only makes me stronger. I feed on hatred. I am stronger than all of you, faster and cleverer. You will never get rid of me. I’m part of you. I’m inside you. Inside all of you.”

Jacob felt himself being lifted up and up, above Urquhart’s head, then sky and scaffolding scrambled. He flew through the air and landed on his side with a thump that made the whole structure shudder. He rolled to the edge of the platform and found himself looking down, a long way down, into Dranckgasse. His hands grabbed empty air. He was falling.