Simon took the quickest way he knew through the city to the place he figured he could pick up the trail of the mysterious powder. The streets were still completely dark and deserted at this hour. Now, as he stood at the gateway to the Stone Bridge, waiting what seemed an eternity for it to open, his patience was put to the test.
While Simon drummed his fingers against the stone wall, he studied irritably the guards who calmly slid open one bolt after another. Why couldn’t these bastards hurry up? The fate of the city probably stood in the balance, and these half-drunk provincial constables couldn’t get their asses moving! Now Simon noticed he’d been chewing his fingernails for some time.
Ultimately the medicus had to admit he was happy Magdalena had gone to stay with Silvio. The situation was just too dangerous, and no one could predict who or what really awaited him where he was headed. Simon could only hope it wasn’t too late. Still, he couldn’t be the only one who’d come to this conclusion, could he? The ramifications of this powder’s existence were so great, so monstrous, so obviously horrible, that he couldn’t possibly be the only one to whom it had occurred by now. Simon breathed a sigh of relief. Evidently the conspirators hadn’t yet set their plan into motion. Of course, he first had to make sure his assumption was correct. If he was right, he’d go straight to the powers that be and…
Simon was painfully aware that city treasurer Paulus Mamminger was one of the most powerful men in Regensburg. Whom could Simon trust, then? It still wasn’t clear what Mamminger’s role was in this game, to say nothing of Nathan or the baldheaded murderer! For that reason Simon hadn’t taken the secret tunnel under the Danube. Nathan and his henchmen could very well be lying in wait for him there, their pockets lined by powerful men to whom Simon was no more than a pesky bug to be squashed.
The medicus bit his lip. He had to figure out whether his hunch was right before he could determine just whom to trust.
At last the guards managed to open the gate, and along with a dozen shopkeepers, farmers, and day laborers, Simon headed across the Stone Bridge. With fifteen arches, it spanned the river to the other side, where the Electorate of Bavaria began. In the slowly lifting morning fog, the medicus could see that the customs barrier on the other side was now raised. Walking briskly, his head bent, he hurried past the guards. The day before, Simon had found in the brewmaster’s room a brown felt hat, which he now drew down over his face. He could only hope the guards were too tired to look closely.
It seemed to work. He didn’t hear anyone call out after him, so, breathing deeply, he continued over the bridge, glancing over the railing at eddies that formed between the artificial islands. Rafts and fishing boats glided under the arches and then passed by the Lower Wohrd Island.
His goal was almost within reach.
About halfway across the bridge Simon caught sight of a wooden ramp that led to the larger island, the Upper Wohrd. A little house with a clock tower stood at the entry to the ramp. Here a city official leaned back on a bench, eyes sleepy and small, taking pleasure in the first rays of morning sun.
Simon slowed his pace to avoid arousing suspicion.
“What business do you have on the Wohrd?” the bearded guard asked gruffly. “You don’t exactly look like a miller or carpenter.” He squinted beneath his helmet as he eyed Simon. “You look more like a pen pusher to me.”
Simon nodded. “That I am.” He casually produced the tattered page he’d torn from the brewmaster’s herbarium. In the shadow of the gate’s parapet, it was just about impossible to make out anything on the page. Simon held his breath and prayed the guard would fall for the cheap trick. “The Wohrd miller is behind on his taxes, and I’m here on behalf of the city.”
“Let me see that.” The bailiff tore the paper from Simon’s hand and studied it carefully.
My God, he’s going to call the guards! Simon thought. They’re going to lock me up, and all will be lost! All of Regensburg will-
“Fine. You may pass.” The bailiff pompously handed the paper back. “Looks all right to me.”
Simon nodded respectfully, suppressing a grin. This man was illiterate! Not even the drawings on the back had aroused his suspicion. Bowing a few times, the medicus took leave of the grim watchman and proceeded down the ramp. He waited a few yards before he dared to stand up straight.
At that moment he heard banging and pounding across the water. Not far from where he stood, mill wheels turned in the swift current, powering huge hammers and millstones inside the island’s several buildings and sheds. Clattering sawmills stood side by side with rattling grain, fulling, and paper mills. The island was a single rumbling beast, and Simon could almost feel its vibration underfoot.
The mill…
His goal was in sight. Now he only hoped his hunch was right.
The island was overgrown with low bushes, and it took Simon some time to orient himself in the daylight, but he finally recognized the big wooden gabled building to which Nathan had brought him that night. He slackened his pace, still uncertain what he might find inside. Was the mill being guarded?
On the spur of the moment he decided to avoid the main door and first take a quick look inside through one of the windows. He clambered up onto a stack of wood against the side of the building until he reached the sealed window shutters. Bending a slat to one side, he stared into the half darkness.
There wasn’t much to see. Just as last time, sacks of grain and flour were scattered throughout, and at the rear an enormous millstone creaked and groaned, driven by a water wheel on the building’s shore side. Simon was about to turn away when he spotted an especially large sack that had fallen from a larger pile and now lay by itself in the middle of the large room.
The sack was moving.
Simon blinked and took another look. Indeed, the big sack quivered and shook. Only now did the medicus realize it wasn’t a sack of grain at all but a person tied into a tight bundle. When this person rolled to the side and Simon saw her face, he had to suppress a scream.
It was Magdalena!
Her hair wet and tousled, her face pale, she trembled from head to toe. Nevertheless, her eyes flashed with anger, reminding Simon of a captured lynx.
Seconds later several figures emerged from the shadows inside the mill. Two were hefty thugs with broad shoulders and the fixed gazes of men accustomed to carrying out orders. Simon thought he recognized at least one of them from the raft landing. The third was different-small, he wore a red shirt with white ribbons and, on his head, one of those chic musketeer hats Simon so wished he could afford.
The man was Silvio Contarini.
Crossing his legs, the Venetian took a seat on a sack of grain and scrutinized the quivering bundle in front of him. During the whole trip on the river Magdalena had struggled in vain to free herself from her bonds. In the meantime she seemed to have tired, and her movements had grown weaker. Silvio shook his head regretfully.
“It’s really such a shame that our relationship had to come to this.” He sighed. “But the ways of the Lord are inscrutable. Believe me, I adore you all the same-your courage, your intelligence, and, of course, your beauty.”
“You miserable dwarf!” Magdalena barked as she tried to get up. “I’ll cut off your tiny little prick if you so much as touch me again!”
“Scusate, but that’s unavoidable,” Silvio purred. “After all, I need you for our experiment. But if you prefer, I’ll see that from now on, only these charming cavaliere-” He gestured to the two grinning behemoths at his side. “-that only their hands touch you. Would you prefer that?”
“What kind of damned experiment?” Magdalena snapped, a hint of uncertainty resonating in her voice. “Give it to me straight for once.”