Sylvia (56 page)

Master Nicodemus, other than to instruct that they be removed, seemed unconcerned. A cold fish this one, to be sure. ‘You would break your fast, I shall arrange food to be brought,' he said in a newly acquired unctuous voice. ‘I will then see that your wagon and mules are made ready.'

He turned to go and I said, ‘Oh, Master Nicodemus, I have a favour to ask now that we are rid of the crows.'

Despite seeming overwhelmed by the nature of the crow ridding, I knew this might not be how he would come to think when, in a calmer frame, he reported the incident to the querulous and ever-cantankerous bishop. They would, I felt sure, agree that I had brought this curse upon them in the first place, that I was ever dangerous and that to be rid of me, and also now of Reinhardt, was the better solution.

‘What is it, Sylvia?' he said in his new and respectful voice.

‘We ask that there is an escort back to Cologne, perhaps you and six soldiers, to protect us? The road to Cologne is dangerous and we would not otherwise be safe with such a splendid wagon and four mules.'

He looked surprised but, quickly recovering, frowned. ‘Six soldiers? I am not at all sure I could persuade His Lordship. On the morrow he is to undertake a journey to Bonn and I must be at his side and he will need his troop to ride with him.'

‘Perhaps you could point out to His Lordship that such a grand escort would do much to restore his reputation in Cologne and would serve to emphasise the generous nature of his donation to our crusade?'

‘Ah! While the bishop is ever mindful of his duties to his flock, he is a man of God and leaves the final judgement of his nature not to the people of Cologne, but to our heavenly Father.'

The silver tongue was back. I looked down into the palms of my hands and spoke hesitatingly. ‘Master Nicodemus, I ask not for my sake, but for thine own.'

‘What mean you by this?' he asked, again surprised. ‘We will keep our part of the bargain. A wagon and four mules?'

‘With full harness,' I added quickly.

‘Well then?'

I took a deep breath. ‘All is not as it seems with a ridding. If any harm should come to us, then the crows will return threefold by the ringing of the Angelus tomorrow.' I wore a most innocent and wide-eyed expression but held my gaze steady, then gave a small shrug. ‘You have seen yourself how dangerous it is to perform this ritual and how the wrath of God punished two sinners who, I fear, bore malice in their hearts from the previous occasion when I was summoned by His Lordship. If harm should come to us I greatly fear the consequences, the return of the crows being perhaps the smallest part of it. I implore you, for the sake of the safety of the bishop and yourself, to ensure our safety back to Cologne.'

Despite his silver tongue and high-lofty manner, this man, like me, was a peasant and I had seen the look of fear upon his face when he had knelt then later crossed himself. I was almost sure I had my man well fathomed, but he nevertheless had a slyness about him that was hard to read. Moreover, the bishop was likely to prove stubborn, having made up his mind to kill me – the addition of Reinhardt as another victim would not bother him unduly. He had not witnessed the ridding of the crows and lacked imagination and was also undeniably stupid. Like any member of the nobility, he would place the value of a pig, much less a wagon and four mules, well above that of a peasant's life and in particular that of a woman. I knew it would be up to Master Nicodemus to convince him otherwise. It was important that he knew the threat concerned him as well as his master.

‘I must consult His Lordship, it is beyond my authority to grant your wish,' Master Nicodemus said, spreading his hands. If he was frightened by my threat, his fear was now well contained, so I wasn't at all sure whether my attempt to gull him had been successful.

I told myself if he returned from the bishop with a refusal to accompany us to Cologne, it could only mean that they didn't believe the crows would return and had called my bluff. It would also mean the bishop still wanted to go through with the plan to kill us.

An old woman arrived with water and cloth and a jar of unguent to attend to Reinhardt's cuts. I sniffed at the jar – it was mostly sulphur and a herb I didn't know. ‘What herb is this?' I asked her.

‘St John's Wort,' she replied. ‘Have you any cuts I can attend to?'

‘Thank you, no,' I said, then added, ‘Poor Reinhardt has enough for both of us.'

‘Of course you don't, I should not have doubted. An angel does not cut or bleed or bruise except to stain with Christ's precious blood the petals of the Virgin's pure white rose.'

I laughed and shook my head – this woman knew and believed all the market gossip. ‘Frau, I am no angel and I bleed like any other.' I wondered what she might think if I told her that I'd earlier wet myself.

‘They say that you always deny your wondrous works. Is it true you have the sign of the fish upon your back?'

‘A birthmark,' I replied dismissively.

‘Aye,' she said, not believing me, smiling and nodding her head in silent wonder. I had long since given up arguing with folk, for the more I protested the more convinced they became.

After the woman had left, a kitchen maid brought over a meal of bread and wine. We sat under a linden tree where a bench and table had been placed not far from where an outdoor kitchen had been created, convenient to the stables, bread oven, granary and the nearby stream. I now told Reinhardt in more detail of the overheard conversation between the bishop and his servant. ‘Ratcatcher, you are not in this, you could leave now and be safely in Cologne before noon and I would think no less of you,' I said.

Reinhardt jumped to his feet. ‘Then I must be off at once,' he said. ‘You have been nothing but a burden since I returned! I was free as a bird and now I am nearly killed by ten thousand such. I can barely feed myself and now must help to feed thousands of children every day. I have, I swear in God's name, not a single enemy, but now I am about to be murdered by a bishop!' He smiled and threw up his hands, then did a little jig. ‘Oh, how very much I have missed you, Sylvia Honeyeater. My dear, it will be a pleasure to die in your arms with my head against your delightful breast.'

‘Reinhardt! We are in terrible danger and you may yet escape!' I cried.

‘Sylvia, every breath we take is one more towards the last one. We will think of something, I know it. If God had meant you to die he would not have placed this terrible burden of a crusade for guttersnipes upon your shoulders! Our luck is forged together, but, alas, must we have this damned wagon? Without it we would walk freely from this place.'

‘Ratcatcher, be serious! Yes, the wagon is essential! Thank you,' I cried, trying to rebuke him, answer his question and show him I was pleased he would stay with me, all at the same time. I had, of course, thought of forgoing the wagon and mules, but Master Israel's advice, that I could win by knowing the plot, persisted. Besides, I knew myself to be stubborn and not easily persuaded if I should have a cause I believed was God's divine will. It was, I knew, a dangerous trait in a woman and I knew it might yet bring me undone.

‘You have a plan, I know it!' Reinhardt exclaimed. ‘Or why else would you have warmed him up as you did with a most thinly concealed threat?' he asked, picking up his wine and once again coming to sit beside me.

‘I didn't think it was that apparent,' I replied, slightly miffed, then shook my head and sighed. ‘Nay, alas, ratcatcher,
that
was the plan. If he sees through the bluff we are done for.'

He shrugged. ‘God did not bring us together so that we might die in each other's arms,' he said, attempting to comfort me. ‘In any event, we shall soon know how goes this plot – here comes the bishop's little arse-licker.'

Master Nicodemus approached carrying a garment over his arm that I took to be a tunic for Reinhardt. This proved to be correct, and with it hose. ‘You have eaten well, I hope, though I regret only bread and wine?'

‘Aye, we thank you, sire,' Reinhardt said, putting down his wine and jumping to his feet. ‘Both were excellent, the wine young yet the grape plucked sweet enough, the summer sun its sugar brought to bear, bread still warm-baked from the oven, we may ask no more!' Reinhardt replied in his cultured Frenchified voice, speaking of the wine as if he possessed knowledge gained in a more refined society. His posing sat awkwardly with his disarray, torn tunic and hose and the sticky yellow ointment smeared across his back and hands.

Master Nicodemus laughed. ‘A good summer, yes, for both wine and grain. Both the cellar and the granary are full and we thank our Saviour for His bountiful blessings. It was also most fortunate that the bread oven, granary and the wine cellar are outside the palace building and so we have not gone hungry while held hostage by the crows.' His manner was relaxed and friendly and there was no hint of the decision the bishop had made concerning our lives. He handed the tunic and hose to Reinhardt. ‘I regret they are not new, but clean and in good repair, the cloth still has some wear in it and the hose no holes. You may keep them,' he said generously. I could not help but wonder if they were meant to be his death shroud.

‘Thank you, I shall go down to the stream to wash so they are not stained.' Reinhardt left us to walk down to the nearby stream and I watched as he walked behind the large granary that was as big as any such as were to be found in Cologne. In this alone the bishop was a very rich man.

Master Nicodemus waited until the ratcatcher was out of sight before he spoke. ‘Alas, Fräulein Sylvia, the bishop's business in Bonn is of great importance to the Church and must proceed. He greatly regrets that he cannot give you protection as he needs his escort and myself to be fresh for the journey.' He gave me a deeply sincere look. ‘We will pray for your safe return to Cologne.'

I shook my head sadly, still playing the bluff even after it had been called. ‘Thank you, Master Nicodemus, I understand. His Lordship's prayers for our safety are greatly appreciated.' I looked up to see that a small smile played at the corners of his mouth and hoped that, from the look of my eyes, he did not sense the despair contained within my heart.

‘I have seen to the wagon and mules, they are nearly harnessed and will be brought to the front of the palace.'

I fought to keep the note of desperation from my voice knowing this conniving Nicodemus, servant and chief bishop's bum-licker, missed very little. ‘May we at least have a muleteer, since neither Reinhardt nor I know nought of mules or wagons?' I pleaded.

He shook his head slowly. ‘Regrettably the mule driver is employed with ploughing, we cannot spare him,' he replied, the smug little smile still hiding at the corners of his mouth. He must have momentarily forgotten that I was a peasant and would know that ploughing takes place in October and not in May. I would have liked to play this perfidious bastard at chess. He had just the mind for it to be a good contest, that is, if he was not tempted to cheat as I thought he would be.

‘Shall we wait at the front of the palace? I must see to it that the cleaning is underway. The wagon will soon be here and the bishop himself will bless you and it and send you on your way wishing you Godspeed,' Master Nicodemus said in a benign voice.

We walked to the front of the palace where numerous servants with buckets and mops and ladders and long brushes hurried through the doors. I walked inside with Master Nicodemus and was astonished at what I saw. The interior of the great hall was thick with bird droppings and the great beams caked and whitened. The sharp smell was, as before, quite overpowering, so that I held my hand to my nose and mouth. The servants busy at cleaning wore rags tied across their mouths and a great coughing was heard from one and all. None could tarry long and rushed past us with half a bucketful of bird shit, not able to endure long enough to fill it. We both quickly retreated, coughing and gulping as we hurried back through the doors and into the fresh air beyond.

It was then that I noticed Reinhardt coming from the direction of the granary and that he was piping with no sound. As he drew closer I saw the rats following him and then the rats within the palace started to rush past our feet to join the mighty rush of rodents. Soon we saw that they came from every direction until the ground swarmed with the vile brown creatures. Reinhardt drew ever nearer to us. I looked at Master Nicodemus who stood pop-eyed beside me, unable to believe what he was seeing.

‘Ah, here they are, come to replace the crows,' I said in a most natural voice, as if we had both been expecting this pestilence to arrive all along.

‘Nay! No, please no!' he cried out, bringing his hands to his face. ‘Please, I beseech you! Oh my God!'

‘A troop of soldiers and thyself and a muleteer, the one that is ploughing in May?' I said, then shouted to Reinhardt, ‘Bring the rats into the palace where they might have a long and happy home!' By this time the rodents must have numbered several thousand and there were still others coming, running and jumping over small rocks and other obstacles to join the swirling throng. ‘What say you?' I now asked the distressed Master Nicodemus.

Servants were fleeing for their lives, the women screaming out as rats dodged and ran through and around their legs. Discarded buckets and mops, ladders and brushes lay in their wake. And then I saw that the bishop, who must have come unobserved around the corner of the palace, stood close to us, terrified and dressed in full regalia. His back and palms were hard-pressed against the palace wall, with Reinhardt, who must have seen him, turning slightly and silently piping, commencing to walk directly towards him. ‘Your Master is here to do the blessing of the wagon,' I said, pointing to the bishop who had now sunk to his knees in the gravel, blubbing and pleading in terror. ‘Do you need to ask his permission?' I asked politely.