Wasps?
Only now did Kuisl realize these weren’t wasps at all but mean-looking hornets, each grown to nearly the length of a man’s finger. They buzzed about Friedrich’s scabby nose, and again and again the mercenary had to interrupt his cranking to swat them away. Where were they all coming from?
Kuisl’s gaze wandered along the wall, over the ivy- and moss-covered stones, until he spotted the nest. It hung from the ceiling, hidden among charred beams and blackberry bushes.
Directly above Friedrich.
“Goddamn it, how long is that going to take?” Philipp Lettner said angrily. “Can’t you see we’ve got him holed up behind the altar like a wounded boar? We’ve got to drive him out of there together.”
“Just one second,” Friedrich replied. “The bowstring is so taut the bolt could pass straight through three men like a knife through butter. I just have to-”
He didn’t finish his sentence. Like an avenging angel, Kuisl rose up behind the altar and hurled a fist-size rock at the hornets’ nest. The stone made a direct hit, and the nest swayed and finally fell to the ground at Friedrich’s feet, where it burst open like a full wine pouch.
Hundreds of furious hornets swarmed out and enveloped Friedrich Lettner in a dark, tremulous lethal cloud. With a shout he dropped the crossbow and raised his hands to cover his face, but the hornets were already busily exploring his scars.
The seething black-and-yellow mass stung the man’s face over and over.
Simon heard the fuse crackle as it burned inexorably toward the entrance to the mill. Through a crack in the door he thought he could see the gleam of gunpowder about to ignite. Having reached the door, the spark traveled now along the fuse toward the pile of flour, wood shavings, and small boards Silvio had positioned at the end of the cord.
In desperation the medicus thrashed about, but his bonds wouldn’t give a fraction of an inch. He tried to slither to the door, only to find the Venetian had also tethered him to a beam. The rope jerked him back, and he collapsed, exhausted. Flour drifted like a white fog among the remaining barrels, sacks, and crates, one of which-Simon was painfully aware-contained several pounds of gunpowder just waiting to explode.
“Help! Doesn’t anyone hear me?” he croaked hoarsely, though he knew it was pointless. The rumbling and pounding of the Wohrd mill wheels would drown out even the loudest shout. Though the huge grain mill still ground away, in just a few moments it would burst with a single thunderous clap-likely the last sound the medicus would ever hear.
But maybe it won’t explode at all, Simon thought. Maybe it will just catch fire and I’ll burn to death, slowly. If I don’t suffocate first, that is… Good Lord, at least let the mill blow up and spare me the longer agony.
By now sparks had eaten their way along the fuse into the mill proper. The dust was so thick Simon could hear the crackling flame better than he could see it.
Now… The time is at hand.
With a loud crash the door swung open. The air was too thick to see exactly who was there, but Simon could make out an oddly familiar figure through the haze.
“Dzoo have any idea what cheeth like that cosht?” the voice lisped. “I should really let you roasht right here, but then who’d fix my cheeth?”
“Nathan!” Simon shouted. “Good God, Nathan, here I am! The fuse! Everything’s about to blow up!”
“Then we chuddn’t waysht any chime!”
With a little knife, the beggar king severed the rope that bound Simon to the beam. Then he grabbed the medicus, threw him over his shoulder, and made for the exit. Stooped and groaning, he cleared the door and staggered another dozen steps before tossing his heavy bundle roughly behind a pile of boards.
“Ouch,” Simon shouted. “Watch what you’re doing! You want to break all my-?”
At that very moment a loud explosion shook the entire island with such force the medicus was temporarily deafened. Entranced, he watched an enormous fireball rise into the sky. Splinters of wood and stone-even entire sections of walls-flew through the air above him. The blast was so strong that even behind the pile of boards where he crouched, Nathan was blown back like a frail sapling. Hot air smothered them like a dragon’s deadly breath as beams and boards rained down on them.
“Quick, letch’s get out of here,” Nathan cried into the deadly storm. His voice was muffled, as if he were shouting through a heavy woolen blanket.
“How?” Simon shouted back. “I’m still tied up!”
Cursing loudly, the beggar king lifted him onto his shoulder again and carried him away from the fire. Hidden behind a hazelnut bush at a safe distance, they watched the conflagration. The mill was no more than a pile of rubble now, and flames rose high in the air like a bonfire on Saint John’s Eve. Even here, more than a hundred paces away, the heat was palpable.
“How-how did you find me?” Simon finally gasped after what seemed an eternity.
“I knew… damn!” Nathan poked around in his mouth for a while until he seemed half satisfied. “My people were watching you as you left for the Wohrd and alerted me right away,” he said, more clearly now. “Actually I put a price on your head. No one who punches Nathan the Wise in the face goes unpunished!” He mockingly wagged his finger at Simon, but his eyes were cool, almost threatening. “And then I was rather curious about what you might be doing down here in secret all by yourself, so I sent the boys home and followed you myself. Even a blind man could read your tracks in the sawdust. And what do I find here? This Venetian ambassador fleeing with a loaded wagon and my trusted medicus nearly blown to pieces in Regensburg’s largest mill. An explanation is in order, at the very least.”
“And if I don’t feel like explaining?” Simon replied.
Nathan shrugged. “Then I’ll toss you back into the fire, trussed up as you are. You’re not in a very good position to negotiate, are you?”
“Very well, then.” Simon sighed. “I know now what’s so special about this powder and why everyone’s been trying to get their hands on it. You probably already know the secret, too.”
He then told the beggar king all he’d learned. Nathan listened attentively, but his face betrayed nothing. When Simon finished, the leader of the Regensburg beggars just stood there for a long time, picking his nose. “As God is my witness, that’s the most insane plan I ever heard,” he muttered finally, counting off on his fingers the puzzling series of events. “So, this madman wants to poison the entire Reichstag-”
“Oh, don’t pretend you’re so surprised to hear all this!” Simon interrupted angrily. “I’m sure you knew even before I did what this powder was! I know you’re in league with the various factions at large in the city. Tell me, who ordered you to spy on us?”
Nathan raised his eyebrows, amused. “Ah, so that’s why you left so hastily! I should have guessed.” He raised his hand in a solemn oath. “I swear by Saint Martin, patron saint of beggars, I had no idea about any of this. Anyway, this is hardly the time for sermons.” He pointed at the burning remains of the mill. Guards who had begun to arrive from the Stone Bridge were immobilized at the sight of the catastrophe. It was far too late to save the mill; all that could be done now was to prevent the fire from spreading to the surrounding buildings.
“It’s only a matter of time before that pack of morons over there discovers us,” the beggar king said. “As far as they’re concerned, you’ve already set fire to half the city, and if they find you here now, you’ll most certainly be eviscerated, drawn, quartered, and burned as the infamous Regensburg arsonist. At least this way you’d go down in the city’s history, and in a few hundred years people will probably still be reading about you. That’s something to consider.”