Morbus Dei: The Sign of Aries. Matthias Bauer

delicious, perhaps the man was consumptive.

      The tension Johann had felt the evening before in Deutsch-Altenburg, which had made him drive himself on so relentlessly earlier that day, had lessened and now he felt unexpectedly calm. He knew he was on the right path and that it could only be a matter of a few days before he would be holding Elisabeth in his arms again.

      The greater his longing for her, the less he could understand how the Prussian had been able to get over the death of Josefa.

      ‘Isn’t that right, Johann?’ repeated the Prussian

      Johann came out of his musings. ‘Yes, it is,’ he bluffed.

      ‘We’ll soon see if you’re as good as you say,’ said Hans, pulling a much-thumbed pack of cards out of his jacket and banging it down on the table. ‘Sixty-six it is, gentlemen! Every time you lose a point, you have to pay a kreuzer. And once we’ve got enough money together we’ll buy another round.’

      ‘I think I’ll get some kip,’ said Johann, getting to his feet, but the Prussian grabbed him by the sleeve. ‘Come on, he who can ride like a hussar can afford to lose a few card games, can’t he?’

      Johann sank back onto his chair with a sigh.

      XII

      There was a clap of thunder and Elisabeth woke from her dreamless sleep with a start. She looked about her at the other prisoners, who were lying huddled together on the rotting straw, gently snoring. In the dim light cast by the swaying oil lamps, the guards were making their rounds.

      The first raindrops began to pitter-patter onto the roof of the ramshackle barn, slowly gathering pace, until they pelted down like clay beads spilling onto a stone floor.

      Elisabeth sat up and peered through a chink between the planks of the wall. She could just make out the black silhouette of one of the mercenaries standing sentry. He cursed under his breath at the rain, straightened the collar of his coat and pulled his hat further down over his face.

      Johann still hadn’t come.

      Have confidence.

      What if something has happened to him?

      It can’t have.

      What if he doesn’t come at all?

      Elisabeth pressed her hand against the chink in the wood, harder and harder, trying to drive out her despairing thoughts and her spiralling doubts and fears until a sharp pain in her palm made her quickly withdraw her hand. She had a splinter in her thumb.

      Gingerly, she pulled it out, put her thumb into her mouth and sucked it. The iron taste made her think about her own flesh and blood; about the responsibility she was carrying inside her; about the child that for her was all that remained of Johann.

      Perhaps it was time she stopped wishing and hoping and started acting.

      She peered again through the chink in the wall. The rain was streaming down in sheets.

      ‘Actually I love the rain,’ said a man’s voice, and she jumped.

      ‘I didn’t mean to startle you,’ said Alain, sitting up.

      ‘You didn’t,’ she retorted gruffly.

      ‘In the rain you discover the world afresh, nothing is the same as it was before. Everything’s more vivid: the colours, the smells, life itself,’ continued Alain.

      ‘As long as you have the freedom to enjoy it,’ retorted Elisabeth.

      ‘Yes, as long as you have that,’ agreed Alain, thoughtfully.

      ‘Where to?’ asked Elisabeth softly, moving closer to Alain, whose face was dimly lit by one of the oil lamps.

      ‘Where to what?’

      ‘Where are they taking us?’

      ‘I don’t know. All we’ve been told is to that we’re to escort you towards the south,’ replied Alain.

      Elisabeth believed him. ‘But there isn’t a ‘you’ anymore’ she whispered. ‘You’re one of us now–whatever happens to us happens to you too.’

      ‘I’m still a French–’ Alain broke off, realising how ridiculous his assertion would sound under the circumstances.

      ‘Even if you were the King of France, you’ve got the disease and that means you’re one of us,’ declared Elisabeth.

      Alain lowered his gaze.

      ‘And as one of us,’ continued Elisabeth, ‘you’ll also share our fate.’

      ‘If they’d wanted to kill you–us, they’d have done it by now,’ said Alain.

      ‘You might be right. But there are worse things than death.’

      Alain was silent.

      Elisabeth waited, but the mercenary didn’t seem to want to take the bait.

      Lay out some more.

      ‘Perhaps you’d rather I didn’t tell you about the disease, you think you’ll find out soon enough–’

      ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

      ‘Your skin will turn pale and burn easily in the sun. Branching black veins will spread across your body and perhaps even your face. You might be able to stand the daylight or you might only be able to go out at night. Other people will avoid you, if you’re lucky, but most probably they’ll cast you out or even hunt you down because they don’t understand what’s wrong with you. At some point, you’ll–‘

      ‘Cut it out,’ interrupted Alain. ‘I can imagine it for myself. And anyway, how is it you don’t seem to be so affected?’

      ‘The disease takes different forms in different people, I don’t know why. All I know is, I won’t let myself go under.’

      ‘What are you thinking of doing then? Disobedience will–’

      ‘It only counts as disobedience if you’re duty bound towards someone. We’re prisoners. And prisoners aren’t duty bound to anyone–except themselves,’ whispered Elisabeth, triumphantly. He had taken the bait.

      ‘You want to escape?’ he asked.

      ‘No, I don’t want to,’ she said. ‘I have to.’

      XIII

      ‘I swear by almighty God,’ said Lieutenant Wolff, taking his hand from the beautiful, leather-bound bible.

      Sovinos Adlatus snatched it from him as if he were afraid it might get dirty and wrapped it up again in the red velvet.

      ‘God’s blessing upon you!’ said Antonio Sovino, making the sign of the cross over the Lieutenant.

      They were standing on the ravelin in front of Kärntner Tor, between the glacis and the city wall. Behind Sovino and his assistant, the Black Guard were standing to attention in a semi-circle, and behind Wolff there were thirteen men , all battle-tried and hand-picked by him, mounted on white Andalusian horses. They were dressed in light green tunics and had only basic field packs with them. Each of them was armed with a sabre and a musket with a stone flintlock.

      ‘May the Lord God protect you from the wickedness of the world on your journey,’ said Sovino to Wolff.

      ‘Well, with one of his most trusty disciples blessing me …’ commented Wolff drily.

      Sovino stopped short. Then he gave a smile and walked up closer to Wolff. He examined the Lieutenant coldly. ’Just do your job and leave the smart talk to others, understood?’ he said in a low voice.

      Wolff nodded without a word, but he didn’t step back.

      The visitator turned round and strode towards Kärntner Tor, followed by his Guard. Wolff watched them, then he turned his eyes towards the massive defence fortifications of Vienna. He was oppressed by the feeling that he would never see his native Vienna again; nor his sweethearts.

      He cleared his throat loudly, wrenched himself away