Frank Schätzing - Death and the Devil

“You’ll apologize for that!”

“Just hold your tongue.”

“I’ve not reached my age to have you shut me up all the time!”

“I’m three years older, remember?” Matthias mocked. “The older, the wiser. And since I don’t think I’ve achieved wisdom myself yet, you can tell roughly where you stand. Now keep quiet.”

Before Heinrich could reply Matthias had dismounted and sat down in the grass. Nervously Heinrich surveyed the silhouettes of the pines and looked for the moon. It was hidden behind a thin bank of cloud; here and there a few stars peeped through. The night was not to his liking, though to be honest no night was to his liking if he wasn’t tucked up in bed or in the arms of a courtesan.

He looked back, screwing up his eyes to make sure no one had followed them.

A shadow flitted through the trees.

Heinrich gave such a start he almost spurred his horse. Suddenly his throat was unpleasantly dry.

“Matthias—”

“What?”

“There’s something. There.”

In a flash Matthias was on his feet and looking in the same direction.

“I can’t see anything.”

“But there was something.”

“Hmm. Perhaps your fervent desire to perform heroic deeds has conjured up an enemy. They say witches—”

“This is not the time for jokes. Look, there!”

Two faintly gleaming points of light appeared out of the darkness and slowly came nearer. A scarcely perceptible something could just be discerned against the darkness of the bushes, blacker than black, its massive head toward them. It was observing them.

“The Devil!” Heinrich exclaimed in horror. His hand groped wildly for his sword.

“Nonsense.” Matthias held up his torch and took a step toward the edge of the wood.

“Are you mad?! Come back, for God’s sake!”

Matthias squatted down to get a better view. The two points of light disappeared as quickly as they had come. “A wolf,” he declared.

“A wolf?” Heinrich gulped. “What are wolves doing this close to the city?”

“Hunting,” a voice said.

Both swung around. Where Matthias had been sitting stood a man. He was tall, and thick blond hair fell over his shoulders in locks that almost coiled down to his waist. His cloak was as black as the night. Neither had heard him approach.

Matthias peered into the darkness. “Urquhart?”

The man nodded.

Heinrich was frozen in the saddle like a pillar of salt, gaping openmouthed at the stranger. Matthias threw him a contemptuous glance. “You can get down now, O noble knight full of years and valor.”

Heinrich’s features twitched. He closed his mouth with an audible clack of teeth and slithered out of the saddle.

“Let’s sit down,” Matthias suggested.

By the time they had seated themselves a little way from the horses, Heinrich had recovered his voice and his dignified manner. “We didn’t hear you come,” he complained.

“Of course not.” Urquhart’s smile revealed two gleaming rows of perfect white teeth. “You were busy with your wolf. Wolves are quickly there when you call them. Didn’t you know that?”

“What on earth are you talking about?” asked Matthias with a frown. “No one in his right mind would call wolves.”

Urquhart smiled. “You could be right. Anyway, it was probably only a dog that was more afraid of you than you of it. If that’s any comfort,” he added politely, turning toward Heinrich.

Heinrich stared at the ground and started tugging at bits of grass.

“Where’s your horse?” Matthias asked.

“Near enough,” Urquhart replied. “I won’t be needing it in the city.”

“Are you sure? Cologne’s bigger than most cities.”

“And I’m faster than most horses.”

Matthias gave him an appraising look. “If you say so. The count of Jülich told you how much we are prepared to pay?”

Urquhart nodded. “William mentioned a thousand silver marks. I’m happy with that.”

“We’re raising our offer. The requirements have increased. Say twice as much work.”

“Agreed. And my wages—say three times as much.”

“I’m not happy with that.”

“And I’m not happy with this chopping and changing. We’re not haggling over a piece of merchandise. Three thousand.”

Heinrich cut in sharply. “Are you worth that much?”

Urquhart surveyed him for a while, the corners of his mouth twitching in mild amusement. Then he raised his bushy eyebrows. “Yes.”

Matthias nodded. “Agreed then. Three thousand.”

“What?” Heinrich objected. “But you yourself just—”

“Agreed!” Matthias turned to Urquhart. “Let’s get down to details.”

“As your lordship wishes.”

A strange fellow, thought Matthias, well mannered and polite. He started to talk, softly, insistently. Urquhart listened, motionless apart from the occasional nod. “Any questions?”

“No.”

“Good.” Matthias got up, brushing the grass and soil from his clothes. He produced a scroll from the folds of his cloak and handed it to Urquhart. “A letter of recommendation from the abbot of the Greyfriars. There’s no need to go and pay your respects; no one’s expecting you. I don’t think you’ll be stopped at the gate, but with a reference like this no town guard will refuse you entry.”

Urquhart gave a low whistle. “I don’t need papers to get in, but it would interest me to know how you got the abbot to put his seal to your service.”

Matthias gave a smug laugh. “Our mutual friend, William of Jülich, is the proud owner of a farm only a stone’s throw from the abbey and the abbot owes him various favors. William has made a number of valuable contributions to the sacristy, if you get my meaning.”

“I thought the Franciscans were poor and without worldly goods.”

“Yes. That means everything on their land belongs to the Lord alone. Of course, until He comes to fetch it, it has to be looked after.”

“Or eaten?”

“And drunk.”

“Have you two quite finished?” Heinrich kept his voice down but the irritation was audible. “Cock Gate closes at ten on the dot and a night under the stars is the last thing I want.”

“Yes, yes.” Matthias scrutinized Urquhart. “Work out your plan. We’ll meet at the convent of the Ursulines at five tomorrow to discuss any remaining details. I presume I can rely on you to keep low until then?”

“You’ve no need to worry about me,” said Urquhart with a smile. He stretched and looked up at the moon peeping shyly out between the clouds. “You two go now. Time’s getting short.”

“I see you carry no weapons.”

“As I said, you’ve no need to worry about me. I use my weapons, not wear them for public show. They’ll be there when I need them.” He gave Matthias a wink. “I even carry a quill and parchment with me.”

“Those aren’t weapons,” Matthias objected.

“Oh, yes, they are. The written word can be a very powerful weapon. Anything can be a weapon for those who know how to use it.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. Now go.”

Heinrich turned away and stumped sulkily over to the horses. Matthias followed. He looked back once, but Urquhart had vanished.

“Did you notice his eyes?” Heinrich whispered.

“What?”

“Urquhart’s eyes!”

Matthias was trying to collect his thoughts. “What about his eyes?”

“A dead man’s eyes.”

Matthias stared at the spot where Urquhart had been standing. “You’re dreaming, Heinrich.”

“Eyes like a dead man’s. He frightens me.”

“Not me. Off we go.”

They rode as fast as the darkness and the tangle of roots in the wood allowed. Once out in the open countryside they spurred their horses on and reached the city ten minutes later. As they slipped into the safety of the great wall, the gate closed slowly behind them, shutting out the triumphant night.