Book of the Night by Oliver Pötzsch
The others laughed, but Lukas just sat there thinking it over. Paulus’s teasing had given him an idea. Senno had offered him his help before, and Lukas had declined, but now he could use all the help he could get. If the enigmatic astrologer was still around, Lukas decided he’d take him up on his offer.
XIX
For the rest of the week, Lukas used every free minute he had trying to find Senno’s tent in the sprawling army encampment, but no matter who he asked or where he went, no one had seen the astrologer recently. Was it possible he’d just left? Lukas told his friends nothing about his search. He knew they considered Senno a charlatan, only looking out for his own advantage.
No one thought an attack by the Swedes was likely in the coming cold months, so in mid-November Wallenstein finally decided to send the army to its fortified winter quarters. There the boys were busy all the time building tents and log houses, setting up fortifications, and digging trenches.
The soldiers were relieved for a temporary reprieve from the constant marching. The army deployed to the smaller cities in the area, but the Black Musketeers remained close to Wallenstein’s quarters, located for the time being in the city of Weißenfels. The inquisitor Waldemar von Schönborn and his retinue took quarters in an abandoned monastery that was already notorious as a place of horror. Terrifying stories made the rounds about what now transpired there.
“Every day, his soldiers go to the individual camps, searching for heretics,” Jerome told them when he came back from an errand. They held their meetings now in a mill gutted by fire, some distance away between stunted pine trees. “They come and get everyone who looks suspicious to them,” Jerome continued. “They take away Gypsies, midwives, young prostitutes, and recently even a baker because it was said he got his flour from the devil. It’s dreadful! Très, très terrible!” He shook his head.
“And in the cellar of the monastery, they torture their prisoners until they confess they are witches,” Paulus added. “Fat Gottfried was near there yesterday, and he says the screams of these wretches can be heard everywhere.”
“Why doesn’t Wallenstein do anything?” Lukas asked angrily. “He’s got to know about it.”
“I’m afraid he’s so involved with preparations for war that he hasn’t heard very much. In any case, it’s said he’s already on the way to Leipzig.” Giovanni shrugged. “Perhaps Schönborn has talked him into believing the suspects really are evil magicians. I’ve heard the general is receptive to that kind of nonsense. Remember Senno.” He paused and rubbed the side of his nose, thinking. “But this miserable monastery gives us one advantage—the building is a partially charred ruin, like a Swiss cheese riddled with holes, and there are many ways to sneak inside unnoticed.”
“Isn’t that just great,” Jerome replied dryly. “If we don’t watch out, these strange Spanish soldiers will keep us right there and put us on the rack down in the crypt.”
The friends fell into a gloomy silence.
“We have to go back before Zoltan sends someone out to look for us,” Lukas said finally. “Who knows, maybe we’ll think of something better in the next few days. Meanwhile I’ve promised Wanja I’d go over to the blacksmith in Weißenfels to pick up a few horseshoes.”
The boys separated, each going his own way. Lukas hurried to the nearby town, where he paid a visit to the smith standing by his glowing forge. As the smith was handing him the horseshoes, Lukas felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck, as he always did when someone was watching. Cautiously, he looked around and saw Daniel standing between two houses, looking like a little dog waiting for its master.
He doesn’t give up, Lukas thought, but he was still glad to see the boy.
“Hey, kid!” he called to him. He’d scared Daniel, however, as the boy dashed off.
“Maybe not,” Lukas mumbled, almost a bit disappointed. Then he stiffened. He had better things to do than to run after a little runt like that. If Daniel wanted to ask him something, he’d have to come to him.
On his way back to camp, he heard agitated voices. Lukas hastened his steps and soon came to a large gathering of men standing around the tents and wagons. They were mumbling excitedly, and some had clenched fists and angry faces. A piercing shriek came from somewhere in the midst of the crowd.
“Move aside,” an imperious voice shouted. “In the name of the Church, move out of the way or I’ll have you all arrested along with this heretic woman!”
The horseshoes slipped from Lukas’s fingers. He’d heard this voice before, and the very sound of it caused his blood to freeze. Back then, the inquisitor had spoken almost the same words when his mother was arrested.
The inquisitor’s threat had its effect. The crowd of people parted, and Lukas saw a group of Spanish soldiers taking away a whimpering young woman in chains. Alongside them, atop his dappled gray horse, rode Waldemar von Schönborn.
“This woman is guilty of witchcraft,” he thundered. “There are witnesses who have seen how she cast a spell on a newborn calf that then grew two heads. Anyone who helps her is likewise guilty of witchcraft.”
“By God, the calf came into the world like that, I swear!” the girl cried, trying to tear herself away.
Only now did Lukas recognize her. She was the daughter of the butcher traveling with the army, and he’d had some pleasant chats with her from time to time. With her black hair and impudent look, she reminded him a bit of Tabea. At that moment, the father arrived, wringing his hands.
“Oh, my lord!” he pleaded with Schönborn. “She speaks the truth. I myself saw the calf when it was born. It had two heads! Please release her—she is my only daughter.”
The inquisitor brought his horse to a halt and scrutinized the man with tears running down his face.
“You say you witnessed the birth of the calf as well?” he asked in a sharp voice.
The butcher nodded emphatically. “Yes, my lord, I swear—”
“Then you are also suspected of heresy,” Schönborn interrupted. He turned to the soldiers. “Seize him. We’ll soon bring the truth to light.”
The soldiers grabbed hold of the man, who was shouting loudly and desperately attempting to reach for the girl. He lashed out in all directions, but they tied him securely with heavy ropes.
“You devils, you devils!” he kept screaming. “God knows I speak the truth!”
“Well, then you have nothing to fear from me,” Schönborn said with a smile. “By the time you are tied to the stake, God will recognize his own.”
The people grumbled, but no one dared to resist the soldiers. Lukas was still hiding behind the crowd so that Schönborn couldn’t see him, but a fury was building inside him so enormous he could scarcely restrain himself. Could these men simply do as they wished? Someone had to act, or this girl and her father would be put to the stake and burned just like his own mother.
Lukas bent down and picked up one of the horseshoes on the ground. It was heavy, and if he aimed well it could be a deadly weapon . . .
“If I were you, I wouldn’t do that.”
Lukas flinched. The voice came from right behind him. He turned around and saw the warning gaze of Senno, who had leaned over to whisper in his ear.
“I can understand your anger, lad,” the astrologer said, “but it will get you nowhere. If you want to do something about this outrageous injustice you must proceed differently—cleverly and deliberately.”
Lukas couldn’t understand how the elegantly dressed man with the waxed goatee had been able to approach him so silently. He lowered the horseshoe. “Where were you? I looked for you everywhere.”
Senno smiled. “Well, now you’ve found me. Have you changed your mind and will you now tell me more about yourself?”
“Indeed, I really need your help,” Lukas blurted out. “But I have no idea whether there is anything you can do to help me. It’s about—”
Senno placed his fingers to his lips. “This is not a good place for our discussion. It would be very inauspicious if
“Then you are not friends?” Lukas asked.
Senno’s laughter sounded like the ringing of a far-off bell. “No, we’re not friends, certainly not. I suggest we continue this conversation this evening. My tent is east of Weißenfels near the mass graves of the plague victims.”
“But I was looking for you there just yesterday.”
“It seems not carefully enough. That’s where you’ll find me.”
Without another word, Senno turned away and soon disappeared in the crowd.
The soldiers had led away the butcher and his daughter, whose pitiful screams could still be heard. The figure of Waldemar von Schönborn, sitting proudly upright on his dapple-gray horse, was visible for a long time from a distance.
After some deliberation, Lukas decided not to tell his friends anything about his meeting that night with Senno. If they knew, he was sure they would try to talk him out of it. He could always tell them about it later.
As night descended over the camp, he donned a hood and a warm black cloak he’d bought with the pay he’d received just a few days earlier. There was a new moon, and the sky was cloudy, making Lukas almost invisible in the darkness. He slipped easily past the guards, who were careless anyway in performing their duties here in the winter encampment.
As soon as he was outside the camp, Lukas headed toward the little city of Weißenfels, whose charred ruins stood out in the night sky like dragon’s teeth. The plague cemetery, where many who’d died in recent years were buried, was a ways outside town. Just recently Lukas had looked around there for Senno’s tent and was thus all the more surprised to find it there, along the wall of the cemetery. It was still a shimmering bluish black, but a warm light shone out through the entrance flap, as if to suggest this tent was the only living creature in an otherwise dead world. Directly behind it lay the cemetery with its many fresh grave mounds as testimony to the fact that the Great Plague continued unabated here in Weißenfels as well.
Cautiously, Lukas approached the entrance to the tent. The other tents and wagons were located at quite a distance, perhaps out of respect for the dead, so that Lukas didn’t have to fear being observed. As he was about to reach for the tent flap, he heard Senno’s melodious voice from inside.
“Come in. I have been waiting for you.”
Lukas frowned. Evidently, he had not been as quiet as he thought. On entering, he saw Senno sitting at the table strewn with ink-stained documents and rolls, just as on his last visit. A single lantern cast a warm glow over the room, and the silk flags along the walls with their strange symbols and signs rustled softly in the breeze.
Senno smiled and motioned for Lukas to sit down.
“It’s much better for us to have our conversation here, don’t you think?” The astrologer leaned forward, and once again Lukas felt as if he were being examined by invisible fingers. “You said perhaps I could help you. Tell me about it, lad.”
Lukas hesitated briefly. For a long time, he’d been pondering how much to tell Senno about himself. At the moment, the astrologer seemed the only person who could help him with his questions, so he decided not to hold back anything.
“I believe my mother was a white witch, a good witch, if there really is such a thing,” he began. “The inquisitor Waldemar von Schönborn killed her and my father and abducted my little sister, Elsa. Since then I have been searching for my sister. Can you help me find her?”
Senno’s right eyebrow quivered slightly, but otherwise, Lukas couldn’t detect any reaction.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to tell me a bit more if I am to help you,” the astrologer replied finally.
Lukas began to tell everything, starting with his thirteenth birthday, then the abduction of his mother and death of his father, and his own flight. When he got to the burning of his mother at the stake in Heidelberg, it was hard for him to hold back his tears.
“And you are quite certain you saw a blue cloud above the execution site?” Senno asked.
Lukas swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and nodded. “She spoke to me, very clearly, and she did it a second time. She . . . said Elsa would need me and I was to look for her. That’s why I came to this camp.”
He continued telling about his nightmares in which he was followed by a huge black wolf, and about the good-luck amulet Red Sara had given him, which recently had turned hot a number of times. Now he had Senno’s full attention.
“He seems to take a great interest in you,” he murmured.
“Who?” Lukas asked.
Instead of answering, Senno started rifling through the documents on his table, looking for something. Finally he took out an old, tattered parchment roll. “Ah, here it is,” he exclaimed with relief. “I was afraid I’d lost it.” When he spread it out in front of them, Lukas saw some characters unfamiliar to him and the image of a wolf.
A large black wolf with eyes like glowing coals.
“The wolf in my dream!” cried Lukas. “That’s how it looked.”
“That’s what I suspected.” Senno looked at Lukas for a long time, and at last resumed speaking. “This says that black witches have the gift of sending their spirit on journeys to search for someone. To do that, they often choose the figure of a wolf in a nightmare. Sometimes this wolf can also appear in physical form, but for everyone else, it remains invisible.”
“A Spanish mercenary mumbled something during our exhibition fight in Augsburg,” Lukas recalled. “Then the wolf suddenly appeared and attacked me. Later, mercenaries attacked our camp.”
“They wanted to be certain it was really you. He wanted to be certain.” Senno nodded, lost in thought and rubbing his face with his well-groomed fingers. “He tried to find you, he sent his men out to bring you back, but the amulet protected you. No matter how hard he tries, you’re invisible to him. And the reason the pentagram has been so hot lately is that he’s so close to you now.” Senno leaned back in his chair, pleased with himself. “All the pieces fall together. I was right when I suspected there was something special about you.”
Only now did Lukas begin to understand. Despite the warm glow of the lantern, a shiver ran down his spine. Could that be possible?
“You . . . think Schönborn has been looking for me,” he asked, “with the help of this black magic? But I always thought . . .”
“He is a man of the Church?” Senno smiled wearily and waved him off. “Once, perhaps, he was, but he hasn’t been one for a long time. I assume Waldemar von Schönborn, as an inquisitor, really did find a witch. Since then, he has a compulsion to learn as much as possible about white and black magic in order to someday become a powerful warlock himself. It appears he has already learned some things.” Senno gave a deep sigh. “For a long time, I’ve been collecting evidence against him to put an end to his evil machinations, but Schönborn is sly, he enjoys the trust of Wallenstein, and until now, I have not succeeded in exposing him.”
“There’s something else I wanted to ask,” Lukas said. “Do you remember the frozen ones we spoke about the last time? I think I’ve actually seen one, and if I’m not mistaken, Schönborn sent him.”
Then he told Senno about the strange Spanish mercenary that he and the other servant boys had met in the battle near Nürnberg.
After Lukas had finished, Senno twirled his waxed beard for a moment, thinking. “If that’s right, then Schönborn has gone further than I could imagine in my wildest dreams.”
Lukas frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
“Well, I’ve learned that Schönborn wants to overthrow Wallenstein. You must know that the general has powerful enemies—the Bavarian elector and now perhaps even the Kaiser himself. For many noblemen, Wallenstein simply has too much influence, and they want to do away with him. As Wallenstein’s father confessor, Schönborn sees his own hopes being dashed, and secretly, he would like to switch sides. It would appear that Schönborn sent this mercenary to kill Wallenstein.” Senno laughed softly. “And a ragtag bunch of pimply
Suddenly, he leaned forward so close that Lukas could smell his perfumed breath. “Can you read?”
Lukas cringed. “Me? Yes, but why—”
“Schönborn must have documents somewhere that would expose him,” Senno continued, lost in thought, almost as if he were talking to himself. “Surely, there are revealing letters to the Kaiser, the electors, or others . . . If I had these letters in hand, I could convict him. I could demand from him whatever I wanted. First, he’d have to release all those poor souls awaiting their execution in the infamous monastery. And then he’d have to tell us where your sister is.”
“But who is to say that Schönborn really knows where Elsa is?” Lukas asked. “Maybe I’m just pursuing a will-o’-the-wisp.”
“Nonsense!” Senno slapped the table so hard that the documents flew in all directions. “Listen, Lukas! This man has a strong compulsion to find you, even if I don’t know why. I’m sure he is this wolf that has been terrorizing you, and there is certainly some reason why he took Elsa back then. He will know where she is.”
“Back at Lohenfels Castle, Schönborn wanted to have me killed,” Lukas interjected. “Why should he be looking for me now?”
“He must have learned something that makes it necessary for him to find you.” Senno’s gaze was almost pleading. “Lukas, the very first time I saw you I knew there was something very special about you. Perhaps it has something to do with your mother—I don’t know. But now fate has brought us together. If you help me, I will help you.”
“And how can I do that?” Lukas asked impatiently.
Senno grinned. “By breaking into the monastery and looking around for compromising documents.”
“You want me to break into the monastery?” Lukas shook his head, bewildered. “But I’m just a boy, and a simple servant. Why don’t you look for a capable soldier to do this dirty work?”