‘Elisabeth,’ hissed Alain again. ‘You said you would explain.’
She thought for a moment as she picked some straws out of her hair. Would she be doing the right thing if she let Alain in on her plan?
Yes. And it’s too late now to change your mind.
‘I’ve got an escape plan,’ she whispered.
Alain made a face, as if he had just heard the worst joke ever.
‘We’ll wait until we get to a clearing,’ continued Elisabeth, undeterred, ‘then I’ll pretend I’ve got a pain in my belly and you’ll walk beside me, propping me up, keeping in close to the waggons until we get to the last one where the provisions are kept.’
‘And if they don’t let us?’
‘Then tell them they’ll be answerable to General Lieutenant Gamelin if they don’t. Everyone saw me getting out of his carriage, even they’ve no idea what went on in there.’
‘I was also wondering–’
‘That’s not important now,’ cut in Elisabeth firmly. ‘When we get to the end of the provisions waggon, I’ll snatch an oil lamp, you’ll light it with your piece of tinder, which you’ll have lit beforehand, then we’ll throw the lamp onto the tinder boxes.’ Elisabeth stared triumphantly at Alain’s stunned face. ‘And then we’ll simply march off into the distance, right?’
‘Of course not, but there’ll be a terrible commotion; the mercenaries will be busy trying to put out the fire before the whole lot goes up in smoke and in the chaos we’ll bolt into the forest and–’
‘That won’t work,’ retorted Alain. ‘Not in a million years.’
‘Don’t tell me that a French soldier doesn’t know how to run away!’ taunted Elisabeth. She had heard Johann’s jokes about the fighting spirit of the French often enough, usually accompanied by barbs from the Prussian.
‘There are simply too many things that could go wrong,’ insisted Alain.
‘Yes, for instance we could wait and do nothing until we get to our destination and are all killed.’
Alain was silent for a moment. Since his comrades had thrown him into the prison waggon, he too had played out numerous scenarios in his head without coming to a decision. At least, not one that would bring back his old life.
‘Alright, assuming we could create a situation of chaos, ‘he said, ‘what then?’
‘Then we’ll run off and get help. First for ourselves, then for the others. These people haven’t done anything wrong, we can’t simply leave them to their fate.’
‘You’re mad,’ said Alain, meaning it.
‘Better mad than dead,’ she quipped and if Alain had known Elisabeth for longer, he would have recognized the spirited, affable woman she had once been.
‘I don’t know. I’ll have to sleep on it.’
‘Quiet in there!’ boomed a voice from the doorway. ‘Or you’ll find yourselves back in the prison waggon!’
Elisabeth looked soberly at Alain. ‘Then sleep well.’
She closed her eyes.
I love you, Johann.
XVIII
‘We should catch up with them by tomorrow,’ said the Prussian with utter conviction.
‘I hope so,’ replied Johann.
They had been silently riding alongside one another for hours, each lost in his own thoughts. The countryside was becoming hillier and the mountains to the south and east towered up like massive fortification walls. They drove their horses on relentlessly, passing horse and carts, carriages, messengers on horseback and farmers pulling carts, stopping only to allow the animals to drink.
Yet the closer they got, the more misgivings Johann had. The chase was one thing but bagging your prey was quite another. There were five of them, including himself. Their opponents probably numbered a dozen.
Or more.
And the worst thing was he still had no plan because he wasn’t sure of the lay of the land. Were there really two waggons and a carriage? Which one was Elisabeth in? And where was Gamelin?
Gamelin.
He know that all he had done really was replace one evil with another. Von Pranckh, his arch enemy, was dead but he had left behind him a new foe in the shape of Gamelin. So von Pranckh had ultimately triumphed over Johann, had triumphed over death itself, it seemed, and had denied him what he had been so sure of: a future together with Elisabeth.
Johann shook off his dark thoughts. First they had to find the convoy, then they would-
Never be too certain about things. Leave some room for spontaneity.
Just improvise, thought Johann with a smile. Abbot Bernardin had been right about that as he had about everything.
The sun was sinking towards the horizon and the blossoming countryside was one last blaze of colour. A castle of clouds loomed over the mountains, boding ill for travellers over next few days.
‘My arse has got used to riding non-stop for hours but not my horse,’ said Karl, who had come up alongside Johann and the Prussian. He patted his horse, which was breathing heavily. ‘How Markus’s horse is able to stand it, beats me.’
They glanced behind and won a mischievous smile from Markus, whose horse seemed to be trotting along quite comfortably.
‘You’re right,’ said Johann, turning back and scouring the road in front of them for somewhere to stay the night. ‘I wouldn’t say no to a drop of wine and some bread and butter myself.’
Hans caught up with them. ‘And don’t forget: if you lose two more points at sixty-six, you pay for the next round. Isn’t that right, Lieutenant?’ he said, looking at the Prussian.
‘I’ll give you points alright, so many you’ll think you’ve got the bubonic plague, sonny,’ grunted the Prussian.
‘That’s enough talk about the plague, you’re making me itch,’ said Karl, scratching his arm.
‘I’d try washing for a change,’ said Hans, in a deadpan voice. ‘It’s the dirt, my friend, not the plague.’
The men burst into laughter and for a moment they forgot the danger facing them.
It wasn’t long before they caught sight of a low house with a thatched roof and a battered sign with a wine jug painted on it.
‘Grub’s up!’ cried Karl delighted, and he spurred his horse.
A short while later a troop of about a dozen soldiers with yellow coat lapels rode past the inn.
XIX
Chronicle of Melk
Anno Domini 1704
In Nomine SS. Trinitatis
With the winter behind us, building work on the abbey is progressing rapidly thanks to Jakob Prandtauer, as reported by reverend Abbot Berthold Dietmayr. I like to picture to myself how one day the abbey will be seen from far and wide, impressing and greeting pilgrims, townsfolk and wayfarers alike.
We recently had the honour of receiving a high-level visitation from Envoy to the Holy Father in Rome, Antonio Maria Sovino, and his Black Guard, and were permitted to offer them food and lodgings. They stayed for several days and refused no one an audience so that even the needs of our citizens did not go unheard. Thanks to the broadminded times we live in, envy and malice found no hearing with the representative from Rome. Obviously other methods are used today than during the Inquisition.
Unfortunately, Father Sovino had to witness a terrible tragedy during his stay when the farm of a Protestant, Werner Schramb, went up in flames, wiping out his whole family and