Morbus Dei: The Sign of Aries - Matthias Bauer Morbus Dei (English)

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the church killing an infidel, irrespective of age or sex, was not murder.

      Naturally, this would not have been so simple to do in their own countries.

      The Black Guard functioned in a similar way to the Inquisition, but without spreading the same terror amongst the population. It tended to act instead in secrecy as it made its way through the Catholic lands, ensuring things were ‘not off plumb’, as it was called. Where the ‘plumb’ actually was, and how much deviation should be tolerated, were of course matters determined solely by the Guard.

      Tepser gazed out of the window. The barricades had been taken down on the opposite side of the street and local residents were returning, laden with possessions, some with handcarts. As soon as all trace of the fire had been removed, and he could push through a temporary tax relief at the next city council meeting for all those affected, things would return to normal, mused the Mayor.

      He glanced down at the street below and listened to the rhythmic goose-stepping of the passing soldiers.

      Clearing his throat, he turned then towards the large double doors that led to his chambers.

      Let’s see.

      ‘Von Pranckh did what?’ cried Mayor Tepser. What Antonio Sovino had told him was so outrageous he could scarcely believe his ears. Sovino raised his right eye brow and let his words sink in.

      Tepser clenched his fists. How in the world could he have known that General von Pranckh had made a pact with a Frenchman, and that this same Frenchman had even smuggled some of the sick, presumably quarantine survivors, unnoticed out of the city?

      ‘What the hell does a Frenchy want with a handful of sick people?’

      Sovino sighed. He felt as if he were having to explain to a stupid boy for the umpteenth time why one plus one equals two. ‘The fact that a French army is at this moment marching on Turin has presumably been brought to your attention, has it?’

      Tepser nodded.

      ‘Anyone with a modicum of knowledge about strategy knows that the best way to break a defence is from the inside,’ continued Sovino.

      Tepser’s face was expressionless though Sovino’s deliberate humiliation of him made him feel like a powder keg with a lighted fuse.

      ‘You smuggle the sick into the besieged city then you wait for an outbreak of the disease to devour the defence line. You yourself know how quickly it gained ground in your own city.’

      Tepser’s mouth fell open. How did this church servant know about the events in Vienna that had ended so bitterly only a few days before?

      An oily smile appeared on Sovino’s lips. ‘You can try all you like to blot out what happened but that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t reported or that I didn’t get to hear of it. Including the fate of my nephew.’

      ‘Basilius Sovino,’ said Tepser under his breath, thinking of the young novice, who was always scurrying silently behind the Dominican, Bernardus Wehrden. ‘I’m deeply sorry. Perhaps it would help to soothe your pain to know that he did not suffer for long–’

      Sovino gestured to him to be quiet. ‘Spare me the pathetic empty phrases about a quick death and his deliverance. As a man of the church, I know that’s not the case, no one dies in an instant. And when life’s spark goes out that’s when true suffering really begins.’

      ‘But your nephew was–’

      ‘I don’t want to hear another word about my nephew,’ cut in Sovino Tepser. ‘He was the immoral child of my immoral sister and her even more immoral husband. Whenever I met him, I couldn’t help feeling I was looking at a rat. And that’s the way he died, apparently: an immoral coward.’

      Sovino gave a smirk. Then he looked penetratingly at Tepser. ‘You were going to tell me something about the quarantine district that never existed.’

      As a passionate chess player Tepser knew when a moment of advantage had come, but this wasn’t one, not by a long chalk. First he had to play a gambit. ‘Tell me how I can help you.’

      ‘I couldn’t care less about the Frenchman,’ declared Sovino. ‘My goal is to stamp out the disease, a plague of the devil no doubt. Give orders for your most able man to head an assault detachment straight away to find the Frenchman and deliver the sick souls from their suffering. You know what I mean, I take it.’

      Tepser nodded.

      ‘Good,’ said Sovino coldly. ‘I wouldn’t want to have to make inquiries about how you and your city leaders managed to work so closely with von Pranckh without any inkling of what he was up to.’

      Tepser blanched. With a sardonic smile, Sovino turned and went towards the door. ‘Let me know when I can brief your man.’

      X

      Lieutenant Wolff was snuggled up to his sweetheart, smoking his pipe and blowing little smoke rings into the air. There’s only one thing on God’s earth that’s better than feeling the warmth of a woman in bed and that’s feeling the warmth of two women, he mused, clasping his arms around his second sweetheart, who was nestled on his chest. The air was thick with smoke, red wine and fresh perspiration. Two candles lit up the red brocade pattern on the wallpaper.

      There are worse ways to die, thought Wolff, when suddenly the door burst open and a Central Patrol soldier marched smartly into the room.

      ‘Lieutenant, sir, the Mayor is asking for you personally. Right away!’

      With a sigh of resignation, Wolff kissed the woman on his right, then the one on his left, slipped into his breeches and left a gulden on the bed.

      ‘Maria, Anna–till next time, my sweet nymphs!’

      The two ladies blew him a kiss.

      ‘Lieutenant Wolff is in my modest opinion the ideal man for this delicate mission, reverend Visitator,’ said Mayor Tepser, in a show of magnanimity. ‘He proved himself at a young age when, during the last Turkish siege, he escaped from Vienna several times with a small troop of men and carried out commando raids on the infidels.’

      Sovino critically examined the man who was standing to attention in front of him. Lieutenant Georg Maria Wolff looked hard-nosed, had a wiry stature with short cropped hair and was probably in his mid-forties. His erect bearing gave the impression he was reliable and had a strong sense of duty, though the laughter lines round his eyes seem to imply that in his private life he was rather less of a Spartan.

      Sovino stroked his stubbly beard. For a moment he had a twinge of doubt, then he made up his mind. ‘Lieutenant Wolff, are you ready and willing to carry out on behalf of the Lord an assignment of spiritual importance and major significance to the wellbeing of your beloved imperial city?’

      Wolff glanced at Tepser but the latter’s face was expressionless. Wolff nodded.

      ‘And are you willing to swear that on the Bible?’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      Sovino looked satisfied.

      ‘Only I would like to know beforehand,’ added Wolff firmly, ‘what it is exactly that I am swearing to.’

      Tepser banged his palm down on the table. ‘How dare you have the audacity to ask such a question! You’re here to carry out orders, not–’

      ‘Please, Mr Mayor,’ said Sovino, trying to smooth things over. ‘I would much rather have a loyal man who can think for himself than a witless underling who is thrown by the slightest difficulty.’

      Wolff looked sharply at Sovino. He knew his type. Under the cloak of benevolence, he would stop at nothing.

      ‘A French secret envoy by the name of François Antoine Gamelin has smuggled sick people out of the quarantine district to use them to his own advantage and that of the French realm,’ said Sovino, lowering his voice. ‘Let me be frank: it’s no secret that the Holy Father supports King Ludwig XIV for having helped his grandson, Philipp V. von Bourbon, accede to the Spanish throne. But the damage that might done to the Roman Empire if Gamelin’s plan

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