Elisabeth had lain awake for hours thinking about the scene on the shore of the Danube, her longing for Johann growing all the while. But she knew she had to be strong and so she tried to pluck up her courage. Johann had escaped the grim reaper many times. He has was bound to be searching for her with the Prussian and his other friends. She trusted this man unconditionally, and this time he would again–
‘Do you really trust him? After all, he lied to you so that he could get to Vienna. And if you hadn’t both gone to Vienna, you wouldn’t be where you are now.
Elisabeth tried to ignore the voice. Johann had had his reasons. He had had to kill von Pranckh.
Really?
It’s over now. What had happened, had happened. This was no time to think about blame. Of course Johann shouldn’t have gone to Vienna; just as she shouldn’t have ignored Josefa’s advice when Johann and the Prussian were imprisoned. And she knew only too well what had happened then, when she’d been attacked by the two villains and had–
–infected them both.
Her going off on her own like that had almost led to a whole city being wiped out.
Her thoughts darkened. She bowed her head and prayed, something that had always offered her solace since she was a child. She prayed for Johann and their child, for the sick and for Josefa, who had been torn from life only a few days before. She prayed too for Konstantin von Freising, the Jesuit, whom she hadn’t seen since that night in the dungeon of the Inquisition.
At last, just before dawn, she fell into a restless sleep.
At daybreak they got back into the prison waggons again. Elisabeth glanced one more time at the burnt-out farmstead, then the tarpaulin was pull tight again.
With a jolt, the waggon trundled off and all it began again, just like the day before: a journey into the unknown, in complete darkness.
The Prussian woke up to find himself in a little, dark room in the physician’s cottage. His chest was itching so much that he scratched it until it was so sore that it hurt almost as much as the itching.
Pull yourself together, you’re a man, Josefa would have said.
Josefa …
The Prussian swallowed and felt his throat tighten with the pain of longing. Since he had come round, he couldn’t stop thinking about his beloved wife, her laughter, all her good qualities, her love.
And her death.
He swore to himself that when all this was over and Johann had got Elisabeth back again and there was nothing more for him to do in the world, he would follow Josefa to the grave.
But not yet.
He passed his hand over his face and rubbed his forehead until his gloomy thoughts were dispelled. Then he slipped on his linen shirt and staggered into the parlour.
The barber surgeon was sitting with his cheeks aglow staring into the crackling fire, his hands affectionately entwined round an earthenware tankard of wine.
‘This blasted itching,’ said the Prussian. ‘When’s it going to stop?’
Leonardus stared at him glassy-eyed, as if he weren’t sure who it was standing in front of him. Then he blinked several times. ‘Oh, that usually disappears after a few days. Nearly everyone gets that, it’s probably got something to do with the lambs.’
Johann had already told the Prussian the evening before about the curious transfusion. ‘The lambs? How many did it take then?’ asked the Prussian, with a wry expression.
The physician grinned. ‘You know what they say: it needs three sheep to carry out a transfusion of sheep’s blood: one to give the blood, one to receive it, and one to do the transfusion.’
He burst into loud laughter. The Prussian wanted to box the old drunkard’s ears but he got a hold of himself, nodded and went outside.
The wind had come up and it was chilly as the day drew to a close. The inhabitants of Deutsch-Altenburg were making use of what remained of the daylight to finish off their business for the day.
The Prussian ran his fingers through his hair. He still didn’t know what to make of the fact that he now had animal blood coursing through his veins. But still, he was alive.
Whether that was a curse or a blessing was another matter.
He saw Johann perched on an overturned tree trunk on the riverbank and went over to him.
The men sat and watched the ebb and flow of the river and the crests of the waves dancing in the wind, each lost in his own thoughts.
‘I’m going to start looking for Elisabeth the day after tomorrow,’ said Johann at last.
‘I can’t say yet whether I’ll be–’
Johann made a deprecatory gesture. ‘It’s my problem, not yours. I only waited until I was sure you were going to make it. It would be better for you to rest a bit longer.’
‘We’ll see,’ grunted the Prussian, scratching a large scar on his face that extended as far as his left ear. ‘That quack doctor smeared some sort of herbal mixture on the wound. It itches like hell but it seems to be healing alright.’
‘I don’t even know where to start looking,’ exclaimed Johann, who was preoccupied with his own thoughts. ‘I can’t go back to Vienna–they’ll string me up before I get within a mile of the city walls. And if the carriage has already left the city, then she could be anywhere.’
‘I’d speak to the Count, he seems to have a few contacts. And he’s a man of honour, he’s proven that,’ said the Prussian.
‘Yes, who would have thought it of a blue blood!’
‘And a Protestant to boot’ added the Prussian drily.
They grinned, remembering Elisabeth’s consternation when she had first met von Binden.
‘There’s one thing clergymen are really good at,’ said the Prussian, ‘and that’s killing off anyone who’s different, it doesn’t matter whether he’s a Protestant, Jew or outcast.’
‘I’ve known a few good ones though,’ retorted Johann. ‘Men like Father von Freising or Burkhart von Metz. Just and strong, always ready to fight for the weak with word and sword.’
‘But they have no say,’ answered the Prussian. ‘It’s the same as it was with us in the army–what’s the point of a soldier having a conscience when someone like von Pranckh is giving the orders?’
‘But we did something about, didn’t we?’
‘And where did it get us? Von Pranckh made it to the top and almost nabbed us in Vienna. Wars against anything or anyone different will continue until doomsday,’ said the Prussian, lowering his voice. ‘And it’s the weak who end up being out of pocket for they have to pay with their lives.’
‘Heinz–’
The Prussian waved him away. The two men were silent. It was dusk soon afterwards and they went inside.
VI
Count von Binden pressed a coin into the ragged man’s hand. The man bit it quickly and then dashed off as fast as his legs would carry him.
Von Binden went towards the physician’s hut, where Hans, Karl, Markus and Johann were gutting the fish they had caught that morning in the river. Johann looked at him expectantly. ‘Well?’
‘The black carriage left Vienna the same day,’ said the Count. ‘Together with two waggons, covered with tarpaulin. They were heading south apparently.’
Johann