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Authors: Tobsha Learner
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defend her practice.’
‘Are you one of them? I have heard rumour that the ranks of the German clergy are rotten with secret Satan-worshippers.’
The warning does not go unheeded. Furious, Detlef struggles to maintain a veneer of diplomacy.
‘I bow to your greater knowledge of devilry and marvel at the paths of God that have led you to such extraordinary insights. I prefer to find faith in the goodness of man, this inspires me infinitely more than pursuing evil. In the meantime, I suggest you visit the sumptuous chambers of both Voss and Müller. They are two of the most successful merchants in this fair city.’
‘Indeed, I suspect that the papal guards and myself will be paying our respects to both men shortly.’
‘But what of the others? You are aware that Cologne has no jurisdiction over the lands across the Rhine? The domain belongs to the Hohenzollerns, it is Protestant. And the midwife is Jewish.’
‘I have evidence that she was baptised.’
Detlef looks up sharply. The notion that the daughter of the chief rabbi of Deutz could have been baptised seems outrageous, but the forced baptism of Jewish children was not a completely uncommon phenomenon.
The friar smiles sardonically at the canon’s surprise. ‘Her mother was Spanish and originally a converso. It appears that when the Jewess was a babe her mother had a sudden change of heart. The baptism was executed in secrecy; I suspect the rabbi has no idea it ever occurred.’
‘This evidence is indisputable?’
‘I have a sworn affidavit from the priest himself. And as she is baptised, it is within the Inquisition’s rights to arrest her. Asfor the Dutchman, the Hohenzollerns have been informed and are prepared to turn a blind eye; after all, the man is just an itinerant squatter.’
Detlef looks thoughtfully at the diminutive man before him. Abandoning all pretence at diplomacy, he switches from the florid Spanish to the plain German that he knows will make his point clearer.
‘The archbishop will not fight for the Jewess or the Dutchman, but the two merchants are both on the Gaffeln, the town council, and liked by the bürgers. Believe me, there is one thing the archbishop seeks more than anything: popularity.’
‘Surely with Vienna as well as Cologne?’
‘I will convey your orders to his highness.’
‘And Canon von Tennen, let us agree that it would be etiquette for the archbishop to act swiftly. Etiquette is a French word, is it not?’
Detlef recognises the veiled threat but retains his mask-like countenance. Again, Solitario finds himself wondering whether pain, applied correctly, would break the German’s impenetrable beauty. Falling into a short reverie he imagines how dark the canon’s blood would look against that impossibly fair skin. Then shaking himself out of his lapse of concentration, he gestures to Juan who reaches into a leather sack and pulls out a dark green wine bottle.
‘In demonstration of our good faith and knowing that the archbishop has a palate for such things, I have brought this wine from the Benedictine monastery in Najera, centre of the Rioja country. It is a sweet red and a vintage I can personally recommend. I hope the archbishop will appreciate the gift.’
‘The archbishop is a connoisseur of both wine and human nature and as such you can be confident of his appraisal.’
The inquisitor, bowing slightly, dismisses the canon and his cleric.
Detlef responds with the smallest of nods and sweeps angrily out of the room. Once outside he swings around to Groot. ‘Have the wine tasted, I trust that man as I would Lucifer.’
Carlos listens to the receding footsteps then sends his secretary away. Once alone his demeanour implodes: the shoulders crumple, the pretence drops from the stoically impassive face to reveal a lacework of anxiety that weighs upon the heavy eyebrows, the sagging cheeks, the globular nose. The distinctive scar that runs down his face from the corner of one eye reddens with
‘Are you one of them? I have heard rumour that the ranks of the German clergy are rotten with secret Satan-worshippers.’
The warning does not go unheeded. Furious, Detlef struggles to maintain a veneer of diplomacy.
‘I bow to your greater knowledge of devilry and marvel at the paths of God that have led you to such extraordinary insights. I prefer to find faith in the goodness of man, this inspires me infinitely more than pursuing evil. In the meantime, I suggest you visit the sumptuous chambers of both Voss and Müller. They are two of the most successful merchants in this fair city.’
‘Indeed, I suspect that the papal guards and myself will be paying our respects to both men shortly.’
‘But what of the others? You are aware that Cologne has no jurisdiction over the lands across the Rhine? The domain belongs to the Hohenzollerns, it is Protestant. And the midwife is Jewish.’
‘I have evidence that she was baptised.’
Detlef looks up sharply. The notion that the daughter of the chief rabbi of Deutz could have been baptised seems outrageous, but the forced baptism of Jewish children was not a completely uncommon phenomenon.
The friar smiles sardonically at the canon’s surprise. ‘Her mother was Spanish and originally a converso. It appears that when the Jewess was a babe her mother had a sudden change of heart. The baptism was executed in secrecy; I suspect the rabbi has no idea it ever occurred.’
‘This evidence is indisputable?’
‘I have a sworn affidavit from the priest himself. And as she is baptised, it is within the Inquisition’s rights to arrest her. Asfor the Dutchman, the Hohenzollerns have been informed and are prepared to turn a blind eye; after all, the man is just an itinerant squatter.’
Detlef looks thoughtfully at the diminutive man before him. Abandoning all pretence at diplomacy, he switches from the florid Spanish to the plain German that he knows will make his point clearer.
‘The archbishop will not fight for the Jewess or the Dutchman, but the two merchants are both on the Gaffeln, the town council, and liked by the bürgers. Believe me, there is one thing the archbishop seeks more than anything: popularity.’
‘Surely with Vienna as well as Cologne?’
‘I will convey your orders to his highness.’
‘And Canon von Tennen, let us agree that it would be etiquette for the archbishop to act swiftly. Etiquette is a French word, is it not?’
Detlef recognises the veiled threat but retains his mask-like countenance. Again, Solitario finds himself wondering whether pain, applied correctly, would break the German’s impenetrable beauty. Falling into a short reverie he imagines how dark the canon’s blood would look against that impossibly fair skin. Then shaking himself out of his lapse of concentration, he gestures to Juan who reaches into a leather sack and pulls out a dark green wine bottle.
‘In demonstration of our good faith and knowing that the archbishop has a palate for such things, I have brought this wine from the Benedictine monastery in Najera, centre of the Rioja country. It is a sweet red and a vintage I can personally recommend. I hope the archbishop will appreciate the gift.’
‘The archbishop is a connoisseur of both wine and human nature and as such you can be confident of his appraisal.’
The inquisitor, bowing slightly, dismisses the canon and his cleric.
Detlef responds with the smallest of nods and sweeps angrily out of the room. Once outside he swings around to Groot. ‘Have the wine tasted, I trust that man as I would Lucifer.’
Carlos listens to the receding footsteps then sends his secretary away. Once alone his demeanour implodes: the shoulders crumple, the pretence drops from the stoically impassive face to reveal a lacework of anxiety that weighs upon the heavy eyebrows, the sagging cheeks, the globular nose. The distinctive scar that runs down his face from the corner of one eye reddens with
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