Death and the Devil

“Do you remember all the proud knights?”

“Wasn’t a knight,” said Hieronymus in a tone of regret. “Had to go on foot. I like going on foot, even now. Not like the knights. Always up on some nag, loaded down with iron. But there’s nothing inside the iron.”

“What does he mean, he likes going on foot?” Jacob asked in surprise.

“Well”—Henricus shrugged—“he likes it.”

“But he hasn’t got—”

“Quiet back there,” Jaspar hissed. “My friend Hieronymus and I have matters to discuss.”

“There’s nothing inside the armor.” Hieronymus giggled. “I looked inside some. It was lying in the sand.”

“But you remember the knights, the noble lords?”

“Of course. I like going on foot.”

“Yes, I know. They all liked going on foot in those days, didn’t they. You got as far as Acre.”

Hieronymus twitched. “Acre,” he whispered. “As far as Acre. Cursed city.”

“Hieronymus can remember everything if he wants,” said Henricus proudly.

“That’s not the impression he gives me,” said Jacob doubtfully.

“That’s enough!” Jaspar stretched out his arm and pointed to the other side of the room. “Off you go and lie down, or dance or whatever, but get away from here. Off you go.”

Jacob didn’t dare object. Henricus even looked delighted, thanked Jaspar, and went to lie down. Soon he began snoring quietly. Jacob watched him enviously, leaned against the doorpost, and pondered.

After a while he saw Hieronymus start to gesticulate wildly. His fingers made the most bizarre shapes in the air. Some gave Jacob the uncomfortable feeling he was describing methods of torture.

Then he gave a whimpering cry and buried his head in his hands. Jaspar put his arm around his shoulders and talked comfortingly to him.

Hieronymus brayed with laughter and started gesticulating again.

Jacob listened to the wind moaning around the monastery walls.

After what seemed an eternity Jaspar came back and woke Henricus to let them out. In silence he led them around the cloisters to the main gate.

“Don’t forget compline,” said Jaspar with a smile.

“Huh!” Henricus snorted. “When did I ever forget it? What did the old loony tell you, by the way?”

“He told us the monks in this monastery are too inquisitive.”

“He did?” said Henricus in amazement. “Ah, well.”

They left him and hurried through the mud back to the Brook.

“And?” asked Jacob. With the wind whistling around his ears, he had to speak loudly. “Did you get anything out of him?”

“Yes and no.”

“What is that supposed to mean? Yes or no?”

“Hieronymus’s memory has its gaps, but he does remember the crossbows. And he remembered that they got hold of one or two. He mentioned the names of a surprising number of knights and counts, he even met King Louis—well, not met exactly, heard him speak. All in all he can remember quite a lot. Then he talked about the war and what they did with the infidels after the capture of Damietta.”

“What did they do?”

Jaspar shook his head. “Just be glad you don’t know. They gathered all the children together, and the young girls. It would be a huge exaggeration to say they simply killed them. They did other things it’s better not to talk about. A knight with hair down to his waist he couldn’t remember, however.”

“So we’ve been wasting our time?”

Jaspar gave him a disapproving look. “Nothing’s a waste of time, remember that.”

KUNO

Beneath the city walls, between Three Kings Gate in the south and Neckelskaulen Gate was an area of old stone buildings that had been originally used to store fish. The stone kept the heat out. Several of the buildings belonged to the Overstolz family, but were no longer in use. They backed onto the Wall and several had narrow passages through to the riverside.

Kuno scurried along the inside of the Wall. The wind came funneling down Bayenstraße while the water seemed to be coming from all sides, from above, below, behind, in front. Perhaps it was the start of a new flood. So far it had been fine, despite the advanced season, but this night was bringing a turn in the weather. It was no longer warm rain, a summer storm that cleared the sultry air for a few hours. There was the icy cold of northern seas on the wind, a harbinger of frosts to come. The Rhine would freeze over in the winter and they would be able to walk over to Deutz on the eastern bank again.

Odd, thought Kuno, why should that come into my mind just now? It would be nice to go across to Deutz once more. And I’d like to see the snow on the battlements and turrets again, on the walls and steep roofs of the churches, chapels, and abbeys, on the trees in the orchards and on Haymarket, with the people stepping gingerly between the stalls, so as not to slip and get laughed at.

He shook himself in the rain like a dog. On his left was the first of the dreary line of old warehouses. He had more important things to do than wallow in memories.