Sylvia (54 page)

‘If I fail you have warned me of the consequences. But if I succeed, is there no reward?' I asked, my heart thumping like a sultan's drum.

MasterNicodemus grinned. ‘Only a small, inconsequential one – your life.'

‘My life is in God's hands. It will end when it is time,' I heard myself saying in a surprisingly even voice. ‘But the bishop's palace is in mine.'

‘What mean you by that?'

I shrugged. ‘The crows will
never
go away.'

His head jerked backwards. ‘You would threaten us, fräulein?'

‘Nay, it is you, not I, who do the threatening, Master Nicodemus. I simply point out that the bishop will lose his palace and be the laughing stock of Cologne, chased from his palace by a flock of cawing crows. If the Church would condemn me as a witch, then the people would, with the naming, expect the curse of the crows to be lifted.' I paused. ‘But think now . . . it won't be.

It will remain forever and my guilt will soon enough be questioned and His Lordship blamed for falsely condemning me of witchcraft.'

I attempted to smile. ‘What is to be gained if you kill me?'

Master Nicodemus seemed to think for a moment. Then to my surprise he smiled and slowly shook his head. ‘I have heard of your silver tongue, Sylvia.' He spread his hands. ‘What is it you want?'

‘A donation.'

‘A donation? To you?'

‘Nay, to the Children's Crusade.'

‘And what shall it be?'

‘A wagon and four mules with harness.'

He gave a low whistle. ‘I see . . . for the Children's Crusade?'

‘Aye, a donation from the bishop.' I added quickly, ‘It will enhance his reputation for generosity and folk will regard it well. He has been previously seen to support this holy cause, permitting us to use the church carts, but has now withdrawn his permission. This will restore his generosity and show he bears no malice towards the Children's Crusade the common people of Cologne so eagerly support.'

He grunted, as if to suggest that the bishop did not have a reputation for generosity that might be enhanced or restored. ‘I will need to ask him.' He retraced the few steps to the small door and knocked, then opened it without waiting for permission to enter.

I moved silently over to the door and placed my ear up to it. ‘What now?' I heard the bishop yell.

Then Master Nicodemus, with an even voice, said, ‘Your Lordship, the Crow woman wishes us . . . you . . . to make a donation.'

‘What for?' the bishop shouted.

‘The Children's Crusade, my Lord.'

‘No!'

‘The crows, my Lord. The donation is in return for ridding us of the crows.'

There followed a moment's silence and then came the expostulation. ‘What! This mangy bitch, this tweeting little whore would threaten me? Take her out and flog her! That will change her mind soon enough. A good flogging! Who does she think she is that she would threaten the bishop of Cologne?'

‘She does not fear for her life and says she places it in God's hands. She is very popular with the common people, my Lord. A flogging will not serve your reputation well.'

‘Peasants, fools! I have no need of their approbation!'

‘I do not think a flogging will cause her to send the crows away, my Lord. Perhaps she will cause more to appear,' he warned. There was no doubt that Master Nicodemus knew his mark.

There was a silence, then the bishop's voice, this time somewhat mollified, ‘What does this wretched woman want? This donation to that damnable crusade, what is it?'

‘A wagon and four mules, my Lord. With harness.'

‘What?' the bishop exploded. ‘Is she mad? Nay! Over my dead body!'

‘The crows, my Lord,' Master Nicodemus said in a soothing voice.

More silence. Then, ‘When she has done the deed, give her an old cart and a donkey.' The bishop chuckled. ‘Yes, excellent! An old cart and a donkey. Do we also have an old donkey?'

Silence. Then from Master Nicodemus, spoken carefully, ‘My Lord, this is a stubborn wench. I fear she will simply bring back the crows, perhaps ravens and jackdaws as well,' he cleverly suggested.

Silence. Then, ‘Must I do all the thinking? When she has rid us of the crows, kill her. Let us see how she calls their return from the grave, eh?'

‘My Lord?'

‘Kill her!'

‘My Lord, I most humbly beg you to reconsider. This is no ordinary peasant maid, but is known among the people as the Petticoat Angel. They believe she has performed several miracles and even the good Abbot of Disibodenberg speaks of one such at the funeral of Brother Dominic.'

‘That old fool!' the bishop interrupted. ‘What would he know? He speaks through his arse and his thoughts are so puerile he is punished with piles!'

Master Nicodemus ignored the bishop's humour, though perhaps smiling, then continued, ‘Now she helps to lead the Children's Crusade with the boy Nicholas. This is a most popular cause and has great support among the commonfolk, more so because she helps to lead it. This incident of crows they may well see as God's punishment on thee, and see her as His instrument of its deliverance. It will sit badly with the people if you harm her as she is most popular and some think her already a saint. There is also the matter of your excommunication of the four women and her restoration by the archbishop at the inquiry. If you should be known to be her murderer, you will have to answer to him as well.'

It was most bravely spoken and I waited with my heart pounding. ‘Bah! I slept not a wink last night!' the bishop complained. ‘It is her fault that I am not now archbishop and she must pay! What use is it to be bishop when I cannot do as I wish?'

‘May I make a suggestion, my Lord?'

‘What?'

‘We will give her the wagon, mules and harness and send her away with your blessing and a prayer for the safe keeping of the Children's Crusade. You will sprinkle holy water upon the wagon and the mules. All the servants will be present to see your piety and benevolence. Then I shall send two gossips, two scouring women from the kitchen, who will spread this tale to your benefit among the people of the markets and then, soon enough, the simple folk of Cologne will speak of it to thy glory.'

‘But . . . but I shall have lost a good wagon and four mules and she shall escape punishment!' the bishop protested. ‘I like it not, Master Nicodemus. I like it not at all. They will think her gain of a wagon and mules a triumph of her own clever contrivance. Bishops do not give wagons and mules to peasants.'

‘Ah, I have not yet cracked to the kernel of this nut, my Lord. Sad news follows. Brigands come upon this wagon driven by a lone young maid. Alas, she is killed, the wagon purloined.'

‘Raped and killed!' the bishop demanded, his voice suddenly excited.

‘Aye, if you wish, my Lord. The rape is clever – she is a comely wench – and when the corpse is found it will add more veracity to this sad tale.'

‘Ah, but how will my wagon and mules be returned to me without it being seen as complicity?'

Silence followed. Then Master Nicodemus said, ‘Two of your soldiers on horseback, well-armed, will come upon the wagon and, recognising it to be yours, will set upon the two brigands, who unfortunately will flee for their lives before they can be apprehended. Alas, they will find the raped and battered body lying at the roadside and bring it hence together with the wagon, all the while appearing innocent of the plot. The soldiers and the brigands, they are, of course, the selfsame two!' he explained, in case the bishop had missed the point.

‘Ah, neatly done! Who can you trust among my men not to talk? They are a lazy, good-for-nothing lot,' the bishop grumbled.

‘The pocked and the scarred, the two you sent to frighten her when she came with the priests. Pockmark Hans and Scarface Kurt, both are seasoned soldiers and crusaders and well accustomed to killing. Both have good reason not to love this wench and to undertake both tasks. They are lewd and will rape her, then kill her with alacrity and can be trusted to shut their gobs.'

‘Excellent! You are a worthy man, Master Nicodemus,' the bishop exclaimed.

‘Then you will give the poor wretch the last rites posthumously and cause her to be buried at St Mary's with a great outpouring of grief. Her burial must be a most public affair, with your solemn promise that her many “miracles” will be most conscientiously investigated by the Church.' Master Nicodemus said all this with a voice rising to a conspiratorial giggle. He was plainly delighted with this neat solution to my ultimate demise.

‘These brigands waiting in ambush who turn into soldiers, is there yet time to set up this cunning plot?'

‘I shall send them ahead within the hour on some good pretext. It will be noon before the crows are cleared from the palace and the wagon ready to depart. There is time sufficient, my Lord.'

‘Go to it, Master Nicodemus, I can see your guile is well up to this task. See that I am not disturbed until the wagon departs. Send the boy Matthew to me.'

‘You do not wish to witness the departure of the crows, my Lord?'

‘Nay, I must not be present – there must be no record that I bore witness. When the crows are departed we will make light of it, a few stray crows nesting in the beams she incidentally called away when she visited the palace to ask for a donation of a wagon and mules.'

‘Which, naturally, you gave without thought for the expense and with a full heart and your blessing.'

‘Precisely! You are not the only one around here who has a modicum of guile, Master Nicodemus. I shall bless this purely “temporary departure” of my wagon and mules when it is time. It will be we who do the ultimate crowing, eh, Master Nicodemus?' he chortled.

‘Very clever, my Lord. I am humbled by your intelligence,' the servant said, licking the bishop's fat arse.

I retreated from the door and went to stand beside the large door where I had been previously left. I was concerned for poor little Matthew but knew I must put him from my mind, as I would need all my wits about me to survive this day. Master Nicodemus soon appeared. There was a smile upon his face when he spoke. ‘I am happy to say the bishop has agreed and is pleased at the prospect of a donation to the Children's Crusade. He wishes also to bless your departure.' He paused and looked at me sternly. ‘That is, of course, if the crows are seen to depart from the palace.'

I looked suitably relieved. ‘Thank you, thank you, Master Nicodemus.' I then paused and said, ‘Alas, you did not tell me the nature of my task before I came, or I would have told you that I would need help, sire.'

‘Help? You did not need help to summon the birds?' he said suspiciously.

‘Nay, a ridding is different. If I am to cast the crows from the palace then I must end as I began. The two men who were sent to frighten me in the bedchamber, the one with the scars to his face and the other pockmarked, must be by my side throughout so that the crows will know they may no longer be attacked by them nor by any other person who may enter the palace. This is an essential part of the ridding.'

‘I think they have both been sent on an errand,' he said quickly.

I took on an expression of the utmost concern. ‘Alas! Then we are forced to await their return. Their presence is essential!' I cried. It was as if I heard Master Israel's voice: ‘
If you know the plot
then it is soon undone, the trick is to undo it so that it appears as if it
failed due to unforeseen circumstances and not at your own hand. In
this way you may escape, then when you strike back, it is in your own
good time and your enemy is taken completely by surprise.
'

‘I will see, perchance they have not yet left,' Master Nicodemus now said.

‘There is one more thing, Master Nicodemus. If I may say so, a most fortunate coincidence and greatly in favour of this ridding. Beneath the elm tree by the palace gate waits my friend, who you would not allow to accompany me last night. He is a piper and has special gifts. I shall need his flute to calm these angry birds before I send them away. The crow, as you are aware, is a bird of prey and so naturally bold, and in such great numbers may well attack the two men and pluck out their eyes. I must have the Pied Piper of Hamelin with his calming flute beside me.'

‘Very well,' he said stiffly. He then stepped forward and made to open the door.

I placed my hand upon his arm. ‘Nay, tarry! Where does it lead?'

I asked.

‘To the main hall. You must go in.'

‘And you also? Will you come?'

He drew back, startled. ‘Nay!'

I grinned. ‘Then neither shall I. It is
much
too dangerous. We must first be well prepared and I must go through the front door, the same way as I formerly left the palace. But I must assure you,' I emphasised once again, ‘I may only do so with your two men and the piper at my side.'

He cleared his throat. ‘Hurrumph! As you wish, Fräulein Sylvia.' It was said with a tincture of respect. Perhaps, with his plot so soon beginning to unravel, he was less pleased with himself, though I knew myself still to be in mortal danger and must not be seen to overplay my hand. This was a very clever man with a quick mind and not to be trusted. Every step I took with him must help to assure my safety.