Apothecary Melchior and the Mystery of St Olaf's Church (41 page)

‘You mean that the master was
eaten
?' Casendorpe cried.

‘I mean that Master Mason Caspar Gallenreutter from the town of Warendorf in Westphalia became aware of the name, and so he had to die. Gallenreutter had a vague idea who he was looking for once he found the name out, someone in Tallinn who guards the old secrets of the town. He made some careful enquiries because it looks like he had decided that he wanted payment in exchange for keeping quiet about this secret. And the transaction was made right before our very eyes. Remember, at the beer-tasting festival?'

‘I remember,' Kilian exclaimed suddenly. ‘I remember the conversation, Sire Melchior. Could you show me the riddle on those pieces of paper? It's as if something tickled my ear … I am not entirely certain, though.'

‘But, Melchior, Hinricus was silent the entire time at the Blackheads.' Dorn spoke gruffly.

‘The man Prior Eckell pointed out to us was not Hinricus,' Melchior declared. ‘It was not Hinricus who made a trade with Gallenreutter. Think, who was it was that seized upon the verse when Gallenreutter recited it? Who bartered with him right there in the Blackheads' guildhall? Magistrate Dorn, I am now ready to make my accusation. Sires, find favour with the Lord. I stand here according to the provisions of Lübeck law, and I ask that the Magistrate's sword be unsheathed for the first time.'

These were words of Lübeck law, words spoken in the presence of a councilman and the Magistrate, which signified that someone demanded justice and was to accuse another. Dorn unsheathed his sword, the court servants stepped behind him and he sheathed it again. A deadly silence filled the room.

‘Sires,' Melchior repeated, ‘find favour with the Lord. I request that the Magistrate's sword be unsheathed a second time.'

Dorn raised his sword. ‘Here will I hold trial in the name of the Grand Master of the Order, the Town Council, justice and the accuser,' he proclaimed. ‘I forbid the violation of order a first and second time. I demand that no one leave this place and that the accuser's speech not be interrupted.' He slid his sword back into its sheath.

‘Sires,' Melchior said once again, ‘I request under Lübeck law that the Magistrate's sword be unsheathed a third time.'

Dorn raised his gleaming sword for a third time. ‘Town citizen
Melchior Wakenstede has demanded that the Magistrate's sword be unsheathed on the basis of Lübeck law. Allow him to speak, and may no one interrupt him under threat of a fine.'

‘I remind you of Sire Freisinger's words during a conversation at the Brotherhood of Blackheads. “Tallinn is a prosperous town, and a peril such as a shortage of coins has never nipped at the Brotherhood of Blackheads' heels. We Blackheads have always had quite sufficient funds for maintaining our dignity and significance, as ours is the oldest guild in Tallinn.” He then went on to say that the Blackheads helped dedicate this town's holy sanctuaries to the Lord Christ and that “when death dances around the town it is the Blackheads who are the first to reach for their arms”. Those were his exact words, “when death dances around the town”. This was a signal to Gallenreutter, who now knew he had found a buyer. He asked whether the Blackheads are then so warlike that they reach for their arms immediately. Freisinger responded that more is accomplished with good counsel and a barrel of silver Riga marks than with a halberd. Yes, this was a trade that took place right before our very eyes. Gallenreutter got a response to his question because someone acknowledged that he knew the ancient secret of St Olaf's Church. Someone recognized the words of the old verse. In the name of Lübeck law, it was you, Sire Blackhead, Clawes Freisinger, who killed the former Victual Brother Wunbaldus, Master Mason Caspar Gallenreutter of Westphalia and the Dominican Prior Balthazar Eckell. And under Lübeck law you must now be held accountable for your acts before the Town Council.'

Magistrate Dorn stepped towards Freisinger with his glinting sword raised, followed by the court servants.

‘What do you have to say in response to the accusation?' he asked.

‘Is this is some kind of a joke?' Freisinger asked in an icy tone. He stood proudly with a defiant sneer on his face and his arms crossed. ‘This
apothecary
cannot truly swear by the names of all the saints that this is really the absolute truth,' he added.

‘Oh, but it is the truth, and by the names of all the saints I accuse you, Sire Clawes Freisinger, of these murders. And, in my mind, I had accused you of killing Gallenreutter from the very moment that I found the Tallinn artig in his mouth, because you, Sire Freisinger, were the only person in the town other than the Commander, Magistrate Dorn and me who knew that a coin had been placed in Clingenstain's mouth and that
his head had been driven on to a stake. Yet you did not know what kind of coin it had been. And you swore to a lie when you claimed to have spoken of this to Hinricus. You spoke of it to no one – Brother Hinricus had nothing to do with these killings. And it was you, Freisinger, who asked about a bounty immediately, as if you knew the identity of Clingenstain's killer. You
knew
that it was Wunbaldus because you had been near the Blackheads' altar in the Dominican Monastery the previous evening when you overheard Brother Wunbaldus confessing his crime to the Prior.'

‘Yes, I was there – yes, I was – but I didn't hear a thing,' Freisinger snapped.

‘You most certainly did – at least enough to know that Wunbaldus had killed the Knight. But you didn't approach the Council with this knowledge because you were waiting for a bounty to be offered. Then, however, during
Smeckeldach
you heard what Gallenreutter had dug up from under St Olaf's, and a man within you awoke – the man you were when you arrived here, the man you were sent here to be: a murderer. What I heard was you two making a trade. Gallenreutter reckoned that one of the guests at the Brotherhood of Blackheads, one of the guilds' aldermen, might be the man he was looking for. He made a false claim that Tallinn was a poor town where hardly anyone would want to pay him to keep quiet. And it was you, Freisinger, who said in reply that Tallinn – and the Blackheads – had an abundance of wealth. You threatened Gallenreutter, saying the Blackheads would reach for their weapons – sadly he took no notice. With this statement you told Gallenreutter that
you
were the very man for whom he was searching and that you had enough money to pay for his silence. And the deal was done. A barrel of Riga silver, and Gallenreutter would remain silent. Oh yes, yes, he fell silent all right, although he did so for all eternity because you could not allow the fact that he had read the verse and would now know the master mason's name. The Blackheads have always been secretive, and not much is known of your own past. You Blackheads came to this town at some time yet have always kept to yourselves. I must now believe that some ancient pact ties you to brotherhoods of church builders, whose symbol is a trowel and a compass and which are similarly organized into their own brotherhoods, veiled in mystery, that are scattered throughout German towns. This pact requires you to keep watch to ensure the name of the builder of St Olaf's Church remains a secret. So Gallenreutter had
to die. First, however, was Wigbold, whom you knew as Wunbaldus. You were a daily guest at the monastery, Freisinger, because the Blackheads' altar is there. No one paid the least attention to you when you called on Wunbaldus and doubtless set a fantastic brew before him for the tasting, having slipped the arsenic stolen from Eckell into the beer. It was for this reason that you tested the arsenic on that unfortunate horse. The arsenic
was
deadly. Eckell spoke often of his fear of plague and at some point had told you what was in his amulet. When Wunbaldus was dead you stole a Dominican habit. You dressed in his clothes and rushed off to take confession because the secrecy of the confessional is not sacred for a man who commits suicide, and so all would soon find out that Wunbaldus killed both the Knight of the Order and the Master Mason. Then Gallenreutter's time was up. You had stolen an axe from the workshop at St Nicholas's earlier and hidden it not far from the meeting place. Before you used the axe, however, you killed Gallenreutter with a dagger. St Nicholas's churchyard is well hidden from prying eyes – an appropriate place for two conspirators to meet, and Gallenreutter would not have suspected any foul play. You had by this time made sure word had spread throughout the town about the Knight's head being staked to the wall. What next? Only Eckell remained. You were both at the monastery the next day, and you dissolved arsenic into his food or drink while you were there. Why? Because Eckell would have found out the truth sooner or later. You knew that he and Wunbaldus were friends and Eckell would not believe the story about the Lay Brother's confession. You poisoned him in the hope that he would perish immediately at the monastery and that no one would have the slightest suspicion of poisoning because the Prior was known to be old and sick. Yet you were unaware that the Prior's body was already accustomed to the arsenic after having inhaled the poison for many years. He did die, but he died less quickly than you would have wished. He died, but he still managed to tell us who his murderer was before his final breath. “You poisoned.” Those were his last words.'

Freisinger listened to Melchior contemptuously and shook his head. Only Dorn noticed that a cold sweat had broken out on his forehead and that his cheek twitched slightly.

‘What a load of mindless nonsense,' he snorted. ‘The Apothecary is always going on about poison. He swore by the names of all the saints, and so now I, too, swear by the same oath that it is untrue. Yes, take me
before a Council trial and allow them to judge according to Lübeck law whether an apothecary's yarn trumps an honest merchant's account when he swears by the names of all the saints.'

‘Do not insult the saints or swear to a lie in their name,' Melchior shouted, livid. ‘You certainly swore to a lie earlier when you vowed to Master Casendorpe's daughter that you would take her as your wife. You came to this town as a bachelor and thus became an alderman of the Brotherhood of Blackheads, just as your pact with the church builders apparently prescribed. And you were supposed to remain a bachelor. However, you fell in love with Hedwig, and the secret of St Olaf's Church seemed to be buried for all eternity, so you began to forget the true reason for your presence here. You wanted to marry Hedwig and become a citizen of Tallinn, and you would happily have given up your association with the Blackheads. No doubt someone new would have been sent, and you would have been freed from your obligation, but Gallenreutter's discovery struck like a bolt of lightening from clear sky. One day you had vowed to wed Hedwig, and the next you told her that you were now not ready for marriage and did not want to make her unhappy. You thrust away the love of a young woman – for whose hand half the young goldsmiths in the Hanseatic towns would have run their legs to the bone – because you were already bound by a blood oath. Gallenreutter, Wunbaldus and Eckell had to die, and you would remain the Sire Blackhead and guardian of the secret of St Olaf's.'

‘That is only your claim? Your fairy-tales and contrived fantasies?' Freisinger retorted. ‘Yes, let Lübeck law weigh up this apothecary's tale. No one can be accused of murder because of legends and because he did not marry a girl. The Blackheads number many in Tallinn and in other towns as well. They will rise in my defence, because the claims of one apothecary –'

‘It is not only the claim of one apothecary,' Melchior said, cutting off Freisinger's words, ‘because we all witnessed Prior Eckell's last testimony. He knew the identity of his killer just as we all do now. Why did you do it? Maybe because it was so simple. To mix odourless, tasteless arsenic into his drink – it was so simple. You were already used to killing. A murderer is like a weed in a garden. He will sprout time and time again because he believes he has the right to do so, that he
must
do so. Let us revisit the Prior's last moments. He was no longer able to speak, but he was still capable of commanding his body. He ripped the treacherous
amulet from around his neck and cast it towards us; he showed us where the poison came from. He accused someone, he pointed towards someone – towards whom exactly? He demonstrated it to us. He managed to pull the Commander's black scapular down on to his head – black head. He told us it was a Blackhead and accused him. “You poisoned.”'

‘That is absurd,' Freisinger shouted. ‘Absurd. A mad old monk's convulsions before death – ha! Black head … This apothecary is out of his mind.'

‘What was absurd was your foolish attempt to make us believe that no poison had been in Eckell's food and drink,' Melchior continued. ‘It was childish and idiotic, because no person in their right mind would dare taste food consumed by a man who had just died of poisoning. You wished to demonstrate to us the Blackheads' integrity and innocence, but you merely demonstrated your own foolishness. You showed us that you knew Eckell's drink had not been poisoned, and you knew this because you had administered poison to him several hours earlier.'

Freisinger's words became lodged in his throat. He continued to stand defiantly but was unable to reply when faced with Melchior's confidence. Every man in the room stared at him blankly, except Dorn and the Councilman, who exchanged a glance. Dorn did not know what to do now. Should a Council trial be convened immediately? He did not notice Melchior wink at Kilian – as if giving him a signal or looking for assistance – and the boy, who up until that time had been poring over Melchior's sheets of paper, waved his arm.

‘Wait just a moment, wait now,' Kilian appealed and continued speaking without waiting for Dorn's permission. ‘I wish to say that this riddle, this song written here … something had already tickled my ear before, although you wouldn't notice it before
reading
these lines … That is, I know who is he, who is
afore all
. It's written here that
solemn Death drapes in his cloak he who is afore all,
and then later that
in eternal secrecy be affirmed the first's oath of flesh
. He who is afore all is before these
lines
, these
lines of text
. If you read down the first letters of the sentences one by one from top to bottom, then … then a person's name lies here.'