The syncopated rattle of the carriage at last grew still in the sandy courtyard of a castle. To the neighing of the horses and the metallic sounds of military trappings, the soldiers dismounted and the castle staff bustled around the vehicle, from which an ample-sized body lumbered out awkwardly, its right hand holding on to its tall, young companion for support.
The visitor had barely stepped out when the count’s wide-open arms seized him in a tight embrace. ‘To what do I owe the honour of Your Grace’s unexpected visit? Had we known sooner, we would have made preparations worthy of your status. As it is, after receiving news late last night of your most esteemed imminent arrival, I at once ordered the necks of a few old hens wrung for soup, and early this morning my huntsman came back with quail and pheasants, and the kitchen staff have been cooking and baking all night …’
‘You’ve gone to far too much trouble for my brief stay. But first, gracious Count Friedrich, allow me to introduce my devoted secretary, Julian, who these last three years has accompanied me on all my travels. Anything intended for my ears is for his as well. My obligations make my visit shorter than I would have wished. But my heart would not allow me not to stop and visit with my very dear friend on my way to Spitzenberg’s castle.’
‘Ah, Spitzenberg! What an immense tragedy! And no indication that anyone was even plotting such a hideous crime. I am told that the funeral arrangements are still being made,’ Count Friedrich says, looking concerned.
‘But the little orphans, his children, need their guardian now, to ensure that their inheritance and fragile lives will be safely managed and protected, as justice and law demand,’ the prince-bishop replies.
‘So you’ve been appointed the children’s guardian?’
‘Spitzenberg’s noble widow sent for me right after the tragic events and begged me to be their official guardian. How could I refuse? Their father and I have known each other since childhood, and besides, I am godfather to the two sons.’
‘But how could this ever have happened?’ the count asks.
‘Dear friend, I, too, am deeply saddened. But first, let me sit down and get comfortable. Travelling is an ever greater chore for me. My legs swell, my gout acts up, my joints ache – not to mention other problems. And when I see steps in front of me, like these beautiful marble steps in your splendid castle, I always think of the Via Dolorosa, along which our beloved Saviour so painfully bore his cross through the midst of Jerusalem. Why haven’t you done what those Katzensteiners did and devised some mechanism that allows the weak and weary to sit comfortably in a chair attached to a railing, which a servant then hoists up and down on a pulley?’
‘I’m familiar with the Cats’ curious innovation and I’ve even tried it myself at their place, but here we’re still quite able to get around on our own,’ Count Friedrich replies as he goes up the steps, with the corpulent prince-bishop, assisted by Julian, wheezing behind him.
‘But Her Ladyship might soon be glad to have a pulley. It’s said the gracious countess will again be making the pilgrimage – that she’s expecting – which sounds like a surprise of sorts, a miracle almost,’ the prince-bishop says mischievously.
‘A surprise, yes, but hardly a miracle. This time there was no precursory appearance by virgin or saint. Apart from a crazy Leaper, nobody made any predictions,’ Count Friedrich responds with a little smile.
‘But I suppose that at least an approximate guess might be made as to who did appear to Her Ladyship?’ Prince-Bishop Wolfgang enquires meaningfully.
‘As it was more than one, I expect that even the gracious countess may be surprised when the child appears – in about six months, the physician predicts. As for that Leaper prophet I mentioned, along with forecasts of plague, floods, locusts and more Turkish raids, he also ranted about her having a son in a year, although he said nothing about me siring the brat.’ The count gives the prince-bishop a wink.
‘Hahahaha!’ the prince-bishop breaks into laughter. ‘A good one! But didn’t the Virgin Mary say something similar to a maidservant of yours before the birth of your, sadly, much too soon departed daughter, Hypatia? The Virgin, it seems, is determined to slander you, if not to serving girls, then to madmen.’
‘That may be true, but you’d think the Virgin would be the last person to know about such things,’ Friedrich counters, and the prince-bishop lewdly seconds him; Julian and the count’s steward, meanwhile, remain cautiously reserved in the background.
‘Do you still have that prophet locked up in your dungeon?’ the prince-bishop asks.
‘How should I know? It’s been a long time since we got him out of the courtyard where he just kept ranting and refused to clear off. So we put him in the dungeon and, oopsie!’ – Friedrich puts a hand to his lips – ‘I’m afraid that after a while we just forgot about him.’
‘Why don’t you have him brought up here – after, of course, a good brushing and defleaing – and we’ll interrogate him a little, to have some fun while the servants bring us something to eat and drink? It’s been a long journey and my stomach, like some ravenous beast, is demanding its own,’ Prince-Bishop Wolfgang suggests.
‘What’s going on with that madman? Is he even still alive?’ Friedrich asks the castle steward, who has been following behind the count and his guests, almost unnoticed, since their arrival, and then, in the dining hall, when the prince-bishop and the count were taking their seats, he and Julian sat down at the less distinguished end of the table.
‘Gracious Count, I find it difficult to reply,’ the steward says guardedly, ‘for we must first agree on the notion of life …’
‘Stop philosophizing. Is he alive or not?’ The count glares at him.
‘Considering that even rats must feed their young, and as we know, they multiply quickly and in large numbers, and considering that down there, apart from the occasional stray mouse, they have no other food and are therefore very likely forced to devour each other, I would conclude that he is more not alive than is,’ the steward replies.
‘Well, forget it. If such was God’s plan, there’s nothing we can do,’ Count Friedrich shrugs.
‘God’s plan?’ The prince-bishop gives Friedrich a cynical look. ‘Why, gracious Count, what about man’s free will?’
‘Will there is, but as it often turns out, it is rarely as free as one might wish,’ Friedrich replies.
‘My apologies,’ a servant says, knocking and entering. ‘Her Ladyship wishes to express her regret that she will not be present at supper, for such things give her headaches.’
‘Does the countess often suffer from headache?’ the prince-bishop turns to his host.
‘Fairly often …’ Friedrich replies.
‘But for you, gracious Count, I expect that is no great inconvenience?
‘I don’t complain, but even so it worries me.’
‘And how can it not? A baby at her age … Her Ladyship is now in her forties …’ The prince-bishop thinks for a moment as if worried.
‘My noble wife still feels an inconsolable void after the death of her angel,’ Friedrich says.
‘That is understandable. Hypatia was an exceptional creature, a blend of virtues and talents and filled to overflowing with certain exotic elements …’
‘My noble prince-bishop, I am weary of insinuations that Hypatia resembled me only in appearance. Even a patient man can tire of disagreeable remarks. As close as the countess was to her late daughter, she is as distant from her son. She long ago despaired over his upbringing. And with good reason. The boy is stupid, and lazy to boot. He is the very opposite of Hypatia, whose decision to have me marry her into the family of the noble Cats I had no trouble accepting. Even if the Katzensteiners had me twisting around their claws, her they would have treated well, and her offspring