Death and the Devil

“Not if we’d run away afterward.”

“What’d be the use of that? He’d just seize Richmodis and Goddert. What’s this? An attempt on Conrad’s life? And what does my fair lady know about it, or that old tub of lard with the twisted hands? To the Tower with them. For questioning. No, Fox-cub, as long as they are just the victims of some mysterious attack, Theoderich will have no excuse for taking them in. And we shouldn’t complain. We’re not in the Tower yet.”

Jacob sighed. “No, we’re in an ice-cold shed without the slightest idea where Urquhart will be in a few hours’ time.”

“Then we’ll just have to find out.”

“Sure. Any idea how?”

“No. You?”

Jacob lay back on the sacks with his hands behind his head. “I think Urquhart will lie in wait outside the church.”

“Not necessarily. Conrad’s going to say mass in the central chapel of the new cathedral. He’ll deliver his sermon there, too. There are thousands more convenient places he could have chosen, but that’s the chapel he wants to be buried in, so…And it’ll be the first time mass will be said in the new cathedral. A huge event, therefore. Beforehand there’ll be a procession from Priest Gate, along Spormacherstraße, Wappenstickerstraße, et cetera to St. Stephen’s, then left down Platea Gallica and past St. Mary’s-in-the-Capitol, across Haymarket, left again through Mars Gate and back to the cathedral. It’ll take about an hour.”

“You think Urquhart’ll be waiting somewhere along the route?”

“I think it’s possible.”

“If Conrad’s as cautious as you say, Urquhart won’t be able to get very close.”

Silence once more.

“What if he doesn’t have to?” said Jaspar slowly.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, I would assume Urquhart is an excellent shot, even from a distance. The crossbow is a very accurate weapon, deadly accurate. At least that’s what Hieronymus said, and he ought to know. Perhaps distance is Urquhart’s big advantage. Something no one’s thought of. Just imagine: the archbishop falls to the ground during the procession. Result, chaos. It’ll be some time before anyone realizes what has happened, never mind where the bolt came from, even less that the assassin is a good way off—or, rather, was. Urquhart will be on his way before the archbishop hits the ground.”

Jacob tried to visualize where Urquhart could get sufficient distance. The narrow streets lined with people, the houses immediately behind them—if anywhere, it had to be Haymarket. But there’d still be too many people between the assassin and the archbishop. And a man with a crossbow would be noticed. Even if he managed—

“A house!” he exclaimed in surprise.

“A house?” Jaspar sounded bewildered. His thoughts had clearly been going in a different direction.

“Urquhart can only get Conrad from higher up. He has to shoot over the heads of the people. He’ll be in some building.”

“You’re probably right,” Jaspar agreed reflectively. “But in that case we’ve a problem. We can hardly search all the houses.”

“There is another way,” Jacob said hesitantly. He’d have preferred to have kept it to himself. It frightened him.

“Which is?”

It frightened him because he wouldn’t be able to run away. As he’d always done. As he did when—

“Come on, Fox-cub.”

He breathed out slowly and pulled himself together. “I got us into this mess, so I’ll go to the palace and warn Conrad.”

For a moment Jaspar was speechless. “Are you out of your mind?”

“No.”

“Slowly now. Of course you can try to warn Conrad, only I doubt whether he’ll even give you a hearing.”

“It’s worth a try.”

“For God’s sake, Fox-cub! Who says that by now the Overstolzes haven’t put the word around that you’re a thief? We’re both of us on the run. If they can pin a murder on me to keep me out of the way, what do you think they’ll accuse you of? You stole a guilder, Matthias said. How do you know it’s not a hundred, or a thousand by now? You’re going to hand yourself over to the archbishop’s guards voluntarily, in the hope that they’ll believe you? They might just arrest you and throw you in the Tower without further ado. Who’s going to trust someone like you?”

Jacob chewed his lower lip. “They’d believe you,” he said.

“Yes, they’d believe me. And I’d go if that idiot Theoderich hadn’t ruined everything.”

Suddenly Jacob was sure Jaspar was on the wrong track. “Jaspar,” he said slowly, “what would you be doing at this moment, if you were Theoderich?”

“Looking for us, probably.”

“You would? Well, I’d give myself a kick up the backside and do the exact opposite.”

“Why did we run aw—” Jaspar suddenly stopped and let out a soft whistle. “I see. Well, bugger me!”