Morbus Dei: The Sign of Aries. Matthias Bauer
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might be mistaken there,’ muttered Wolff, thoughtfully.
‘Shall we turn round?’ asked the officer.
Wolff shut his eyes for a moment and listened to his horse’s hooves squelching through the mud and the drumming of the rain.
‘No, we’re going in the right direction,‘ he said at last, looking into the forest to his right. ‘But we’re on the wrong road.’
Suddenly he jerked the reins and his horse turned abruptly off the road and plodded into the undergrowth. His men followed him.
XXII
‘Whither goest thou, fair damsel?’ asked Karl.
The wench replied with a saucy giggle as she demonstratively wiped the raindrops from her voluptuous décolleté. Then she ran her hand through her curly, blonde hair, and, with a wink at Karl, vanished into a lopsided tavern by the wayside. Behind it was a massive defence wall with a gate leading to the valley.
‘We’d better wait here until the bad weather passes,’ suggested Karl, without taking his eye off the tavern.
‘You’d like nothing better, I’m sure!’ retorted Hans. ‘Naturally you’re only thinking of our safety and that of our horses.’
‘What else?’ cried Karl, in an innocent tone of voice.
‘Let’s pay the toll first and then we’ll see what’s to be done,’ said the Prussian, thumping Karl on the shoulder.
Having passed through the gate, they found themselves on the main market square, which was jammed into a cleft between the cliffs.
The streets of the little town were almost empty, except for the occasional pedestrian dashing out on a pressing errand during a break in the rain. Everyone else was tucked away in their workshops or houses, or whiling away the time in the numerous taverns.
The two-storey, half-timbered building of the harnessing station stood on the edge of the square with an array of carts, carriages and waggons in front of it, their horses unharnessed, all waiting to continue their journey along the Pass.
Johann looked up anxiously at the stormy sky. Even with the best will in the world, he couldn’t see it letting up: on the contrary, the blanket of clouds was even darker on the horizon.
‘Well, they’re not here at any rate. We couldn’t miss a convoy of that size,’ remarked the Prussian.
Hans came running out of the harnessing station and stopped between Johann and the Prussian. ‘The toll guards don’t give out information about travellers, not even for a small fortune.’ He paused theatrically. ‘But I found an old scoundrel who was more easily persuaded. He said an expedition of waggons with a black carriage passed through yesterday, escorted by a dozen or so men.’
Johann felt his tension rise. ‘Yesterday? When exactly?’
‘He couldn’t say for sure,’ replied Hans, gesturing for a drink.
‘Looks as if the future mother of your children will have to wait for you a bit longer,’ remarked the Prussian to Karl, alluding to the wench who had gone into the tavern.
‘She’ll be heart-broken,’ replied Karl casually. ‘We’re off again, I suppose?’
Markus shrugged his shoulders and looked at Johann but he was already galloping off.
The rain was lashing down almost diagonally but their goal was too close for them to stop now. They dashed on ahead, failing to notice the hoof prints veering off the road into the brushwood …
XXIII
‘Vanguard, halt!’ cried a voice and the waggon stopped with a gentle jolt.
Elisabeth peeped through a gap in the tarpaulin. They had stopped in a clearing. The mercenaries dismounted, their heavy boots splashing into the mud and their voices growing louder. Elisabeth could hear snatches of conversation and tried to piece together what was going on.
‘The first waggon is stuck … nearly reached Semmering … never should have turned off in the first place …’
A few mercenaries were cursing in French and stomping towards the waggon in front. Elisabeth glanced up at the grey sky. The rain had stopped. Her heart began to beat more quickly and her palms were sweating–now or never!
‘Have you lit the tinder?’ she hissed at Alain.
He felt as if she had just slapped him in the face. ‘Yes. Here is where you want–’ Suddenly he was speechless, thoughts shot through his head, then words that kept repeating themselves.
Court-martialled and shot for desertion.
‘The soldiers are busy trying to the get the waggon in front of us out of the mud,’ said Elisabeth, her eyes flashing.
Alain tried in vain to come up with a counter-argument. He made an effort to calm himself and took a deep breath. The damned woman was right, he thought, we’ve no other choice. He checked quickly to see if the tinder was still alight–it was. He nodded to Elisabeth, who then started whimper and to writhe as if she were in pain.
‘Hey, help!’ shouted Alain. ‘Guard!’ He glanced round the waggon but no one seemed to be taking any notice of them.
‘What’s up?’ asked a mercenary in a north German accent, holding up a corner of the tarpaulin.
‘This one here’s got cramps,’ said Alain, who knew the mercenary.
‘I couldn’t care less. And what’s it to you anyway? You were one of us two minutes ago.’ The mercenary let go of the tarpaulin but Alain blocked it with his hand. Elisabeth let out a loud groan.
‘I can’t say I care much either, Friedrich, that’s why I won’t think twice about naming you if she goes and kicks the bucket. And I think you know as well as I do who she is.’
Reluctantly, the mercenary raised the tarpaulin again and peered at Elisabeth.
‘That’s right,’ added Alain, ‘she’s the one who went into the Maréchal de camp’s carriage.’
The mercenary, who had a badly scarred faced, glared angrily at Alain.
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