“Not a penny,” says Tyll.
“But you’re famous. Can someone be famous and have no money?”
“If he’s stupid, he can.”
“And you’re stupid?”
“Brother, if I were smart, would I be here?”
Korff can’t help laughing. And because Tyll knows that no one can see it, he pats down his jerkin. The gold pieces in the collar, the silver in the button border, the two pearls, securely sewn into the bottom of the lapel—all still there. “Honestly. If I had anything, I would give it to you.”
“You’re just a poor wretch too,” says Korff.
“Forever and ever, amen.”
All three of them can’t help laughing.
Tyll and Korff stop laughing. Matthias keeps laughing.
They wait, but he is still laughing.
“He’s not stopping,” says Korff.
“He’s going mad,” says Tyll.
They wait. Matthias keeps laughing.
“I was there outside Magdeburg,” says Korff. “I was with the besiegers, it was before I was with the Swedes, at the time I was still with the imperial troops. When the city fell, we took everything, burned everything, killed everyone. Do what you want, the general said. It’s hard to get the hang of it, you know, you have to get used to it first, that you really are allowed. That it’s possible. To do what you want to people.”
Suddenly it seems to Tyll as if they were outside again, as if the three of them were sitting in a meadow, the sky blue above them, the sun so bright that you had to squint. But while he is narrowing his eyes, he also still knows that it isn’t so, and then he no longer knows what it was that he just knew wasn’t so, and then he has to cough, because of the bad air, and the meadow is gone.
“I think Kurt said something,” says Matthias.
“He didn’t say anything,” says Korff.
He’s right, thinks Tyll, who didn’t hear anything either. Matthias is imagining it, Kurt didn’t say anything.
“I heard it too,” says Tyll. “Kurt said something.”
Immediately they hear Matthias shaking the dead Iron Kurt. “Still alive,” he cries, “still there?”
Tyll remembers yesterday, or was it the day before yesterday? The attack when the lieutenant was killed. Suddenly the hole in the wall of the shaft, suddenly knives and screaming and banging and crashing, he pressed himself very deep into the dirt, someone stepped on his back, and when he lifted his head again, it was already over: A Swede stabbed the lieutenant in the eye, Korff slit the Swede’s throat, Matthias shot the second Swede in the belly with his pistol, making him scream like a stuck pig, for nothing hurts like a shot in the belly, and the third Swede beheaded one of theirs, whose name Tyll never learned, for he was new, and now it doesn’t matter, now he no longer needs to know the name, with his saber, making him spray like a fountain of red water, but the Swede couldn’t rejoice for long, for Korff, whose pistol was still loaded, now shot him in the head, clip-clop, zip-zop, it took no longer than that.
Things like that never take long. Even that time in the forest it went quickly. Tyll can’t help it, he has to think about it, because of the darkness. In the darkness everything gets muddled, and what you have forgotten is suddenly back. That time in the forest he was closest to Godfather Death, he felt his hand—that’s why he knows so well how it feels, that’s why he recognizes it now. He has never spoken of it, has never thought about it again either. For it’s possible to do that: simply not think about something. Then it’s as if it never happened.
But now, in the dark, everything wells up. Closing your eyes helps as little as opening your eyes wide, and to fend it off he says: “Shall we sing? Perhaps someone will hear us!”
“I don’t sing,” says Korff.
Then Korff begins to sing: There is a reaper, they call him Death. Matthias sings along, then Tyll joins in too, whereupon the other two go silent and listen to him. Tyll’s voice is high, clear, and forceful. His power’s from God on high. He’ll come and steal away our breath, no matter how we cry.
“Sing along!” says Tyll.
And they do so, but Matthias immediately stops again and laughs to himself. Fair flower, beware. So fresh and green, so bonny and bright today, tomorrow with his scythe so keen, he’ll cut your life away. Now Kurt can be heard singing along too. He doesn’t manage it very loudly and is hoarse and doesn’t hit the right notes, but he shouldn’t be judged too severely; when someone is dead, singing can certainly be hard for him too. You roses red and you lilies white that gladden the meadows and hills, you lilacs that fill the air with delight, you hyacinths and you daffodils. Fair flower, beware.
“My goodness,” says Korff.
“I told you he’s famous,” says Matthias. “It’s an honor. A respected man is dying with us.”
“I am indeed famous,” says Tyll, “but I have never been respected in all my life. Do you think anyone heard it, the singing, do you think anyone’s coming?”
They listen. The explosions have resumed. A rumbling, a trembling in the ground, silence. A rumbling, a trembling, silence.
“Torstensson is blasting away half our city wall,” says Matthias.
“He won’t succeed,” says Korff. “Our miners are better than his. They’ll find the Swedish shafts, they’ll smoke them out. You’ve never seen Tall Karl angry.”
“Tall Karl is always angry, but also always drunk,” says Matthias. “I could strangle him with one hand behind my back.”
“Your brain has gone to the dogs!”
“Shall I show you? You think you’re a great man because of Magdeburg and wherever you’ve been!”
Korff is quiet for a moment. Then he says softly: “I’ll beat you to death.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll do it.”
Then they are silent for a while, and they hear the bangs of the explosions from above. They also hear stones trickling. Matthias says nothing, because he has understood that Korff means it seriously; and Korff says nothing, because all at once he is overwhelmed by longing, as Tyll is well aware, for due to the darkness your thoughts don’t stay with you alone, you overhear those of the others, whether you want to or not. Korff feels the longing for air and light and the freedom to move wherever he pleases. And then, because this reminds him of something else, he says: “Fat Hanna!”
“Oh, yes,” says Matthias.
“Those thick thighs,” says Korff. “That behind.”
“My God,” says Matthias. “Her behind. Her arse. Her arse behind.”
“You had her too?”
“No,” says Matthias. “I don’t know her.”
“And the tits on her,” says Korff. “At Tübingen I knew another one with such tits. You should have seen her. She did anything you wanted, as if there were no God.”
“Have you had many women, Ulenspiegel?” asks Matthias. “You had money once, you must have indulged yourself, tell us.”
Tyll is about to reply, but all at once it is no longer Matthias next to him but the Jesuit on his stool, whom he sees as clearly as back then: You must tell the truth, you must tell us how the miller summoned the devil, you must say that you were afraid. Why must you say it? Because it’s true. Because we know it. And when you lie, look, there’s Master Tilman, look what he has in his hand, he will use it, so speak. Your mother spoke too. She didn’t want to at first, she had to feel it, but then she felt it and spoke, that’s how it always is, everyone speaks when they feel it. We already know what you will say, because we know what’s true, but we must hear it from you. And then he says, whispering, leaning forward, almost kindly: Your father is lost. You will not save him. But you can save yourself. He would want that.
Yet the Jesuit is not here, Tyll knows that, only the two miners are here, and Pirmin over on the forest path, they have just left him behind. Stay here, Pirmin cries, I’ll find you, I’ll hurt you! And that is a mistake, for now they know that they must not help him, and the boy runs back again and fetches the pouch with the balls. Pirmin screams his head off and swears like a coachman, not only because the balls are the most valuable thing he has, but also because he realizes what it means that the boy is taking them with him: I curse you, I’ll find you, I won’t cross over, I’ll stay to search for you! It’s frightening to see him lying like that, so contorted. Thus the boy runs and still hears him from a distance and runs and runs, Nele alongside him, and they still hear him. It’s his own fault, she gasps, but the boy senses Pirmin’s curses working and something bad coming toward them, in the middle of the bright morning, help, King, get me out of here, undo it, back then in the forest.