Ring of Fire III

Part 2

Stralsund, 30 April 1635

“Why do you spend so much time at the harbor?” The voice of Nicolaus Montanus sounded tired and old, and judging from the black circles under his eyes he had spent the night on his knees in prayer again. Lasse closed the door to the small study and went to the young man he had been living with for the past four months.

“I’m not fishing for customers if that’s what you think.” For once Lasse didn’t smile or try to be graceful as he sat on the second chair at the writing desk.

Nicolaus shook his head and sighed. “I didn’t think so. I was just wondering.” He paused. “Lasse, I love you. It might be a tainted love according to the laws of man and God, but it is love, not just lust. I’ve been in lust before-and dealt with it. This is something else. I alternate between wanting to lean on the strength you hide behind that pretty surface, and protect you from the darkness I sometimes see in your eyes when you’re not aware that I’m watching. I want you beside me for the rest of my life, and yet, when I reach out to you, I feel like I’m reaching for a shadow in a mirror. As if you’re not really here or not quite real. What are you, Lasse? A mirage, like the sailors tell of? Or some kind of darkness from my own soul?” Nicolaus’ usually soft voice had grown in intensity until it was almost grating.

Lasse sighed and put his legs up on the heavy crossbeam beneath the table. Nicolaus wasn’t just a customer, but he also wanted more from Lasse than just a body and an agreeable surface. And Lasse didn’t feel anywhere near ready to trust anyone with his heart and mind again. Not after Otto. On the other hand, he also didn’t want to leave Nicolaus. Lasse liked the ardent young priest, and wished their life together wouldn’t hurt Nicolaus so much. For Lasse, it didn’t matter. He didn’t desire anyone, not even Tat’yana or Nicolaus. As long as it paid, did him no damage, and didn’t hurt too much, it was all the same to him. The money he earned from his jobs for Viktor actually meant that he hadn’t needed to accept any customers lately, but of course those jobs might be even more difficult for Nicolaus to accept than what had happened to Lasse in the past. After all, Lasse had then been a suffering victim, something he wasn’t any more, and was determined never to become again.

“Did you know that evil is real?” Lasse kept his eyes fixed on the candle in the heavy pewter candlestick on the table rather than looking at Nicolaus. He couldn’t take the young priest completely into his confidence, not even as much as he had told Tat’yana, but he supposed he did owe Nicolaus some kind of trust. “I’ve been touched by such evil. No! ” Lasse raised a hand when Nicolaus sat up, suddenly alert. “I’m not talking about evil from the devil, but about evil in a man. Something delighting in destruction and betrayal, but entirely of this world.”

“But my dear Lasse, such are the signs of the devil.” Nicolaus was now smiling and looking a lot happier.

“No. I don’t agree. There is evil that is entirely in man, and that we cannot blame on the devil.” This was the first time Lasse had ever argued with Nicolaus, or showed any kind of disagreement, and the young priest’s smile was growing broad enough to split his face. “But let us take that discussion another day, Nicolaus.” Lasse hesitated, wanting to be honest, but not really sure how far it would be safe to go. “Back when I was a cook…I’ve never told you that, but I was and I was good at it. Back then I used to be quite fond of one of the young maids, who’d smile at me and call me Cookie. Right now I don’t suppose I’m really interested in anything but survival and revenge against the man who turned me into what I am today. But the point is that I’m not certain I could ever love a man. Not like you love me. Do you think-” Lasse suddenly had to stop and swallow. “-Do you think you could possibly settle for some kind of friendship instead?”

Nicolaus, with his smile still in place and his eyes filled with tears, said, “My dearest Lasse, I’d be absolutely delighted.”

“I suppose the sea means freedom to me. Getting away and leaving the past behind. Including the past me.” Lasse smiled wryly, and looked at the sunlight glittering on the water across the harbor.

“To me it’s just frightening. I have no intentions of ever sailing if I can avoid it.” Nicolaus was looking at him rather than at the sea. Things had actually gotten a lot better between the two of them since they had stopped sharing a bed. Nicolaus still took delight in teaching Lasse all kinds of things from his beloved books, but he no longer spent most of his nights kneeling in prayer, and joining Lasse for his daily walk around the harbor had given him brighter eyes and a better appetite. “What frightens you, Lasse?”

“Frightens?” Lasse started walking again. “Well, the mere thought of falling back into the power of Otto von Quadt is enough to scare me out of my mind, but aside from that? Being helpless, perhaps. People with the power to hurt me.”

“The worst hurt can come only from the people you care for.”

“If that was true, I’d fear you and Tat’yana more than Otto. And believe me, that is not the case.”

“Who is Tat’yana? A Russian?”

“A friend here in Stralsund. She’s from France. She used to wear another name, but if you meet her you better call her Tat’yana, that’s what she calls herself these days. You might hear her call me Cookie.”

“Is she the maid you told me about?”

Lasse stopped and looked at Nicolaus. “No, the maid is back in Sweden. Tat’yana is a clerk. When I disappear on those occasions that I refuse to explain, I’m usually with her. We work for the same man.”

“And what do you do for him?” The tension in Nicolaus’s voice showed that he knew he was intruding more on Lasse’s privacy than ever before.

Lasse stood for a while, looking at the water again before answering. If he wanted Nicolaus’s friendship, he’d have to take a chance and tell his something of his life. “I kill.”

“What! Is that a joke?” Nicolaus looked ready to faint.

“No.” Lasse dropped every bit of the polished surface he usually wore as a mask, and knew Nicolaus was facing empty eyes in a stonelike face. “Nicolaus, there are three things that I can do well enough to make a living. One, I can cook, but taking a place as a servant would mean placing myself in somebody’s power, and I cannot do that. Two, I can be elegant and desirable enough for wealthy people to pay me for sex. And I’ll do so if I need the money. Three, I can kill. I’m good at it, and I feel nothing in doing so.” He hesitated. “Except, once or twice, a slight regret.”

“Once or twice?” Nicolaus almost whispered. “But how many have you killed?”

“I don’t know. Twenty? Thirty? Less than a hundred. I’ve never tried to count.”

“But…but how? Why?” Nicolaus seemed even more shocked than Lasse had expected.

“Preferably with a knife.” Lasse shrugged and looked into the young priest’s eyes. “Would it help if I told you that most of them deserved it and would in fact have been hanged if their crimes had been exposed in a court?”

“I don’t know.” Nicolaus shook his head and sat down on a wooden post, ignoring the horse tied to the post even as it knocked off his hat and started nibbling at his hair.

“You must have guessed that I had to kill to escape Otto, and Viktor is an arms dealer. Part of my work for him is as a bodyguard, and many of the people he does business with are not nice people.”

“But you are so pretty. And so young.”

“And therefore anyone targeting Viktor is going to concentrate on the more obvious threats.” Lasse smiled slightly. “Eh, Nicolaus. You really don’t have so much hair on your head that you should feed it to the horses.”

Nicolaus put a hand to his head and looked around to stare at the horse. “I think I better go home.” He got up from the post and stood a bit, wobbling.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Lasse kept himself from reaching out to steady Nicolaus. If Nicolaus couldn’t accept what Lasse was and how he made a living, they’d better stop it now.

“No. Thanks. I’m fine. I just need to think.” Nicolaus gave a rather wavering smile and set off more or less in the direction of the small house he’d rented near the St. James Church.

“Hello, Cookie. Did you tell him you were pregnant? He looked that shocked.”

Lasse turned with a smile to answer Tat’yana. He had spotted her during his talk with Nicolaus, but she was in her tavern doxy persona today, and the few people going in and out of the small shops would have wondered at Nicolaus talking to her. The area around the Church of St. James was still partly a ruin after being destroyed by Wallenstein seven years earlier, and Nicolaus’ scattered colleagues had simply accepted Lasse as an old friend of Nicolaus from the university in Rostock with an occasional taste for low company. With the exception of a widow well known for her pretty young male servants, Lasse had been very careful to select his customers entirely from the travelers staying in the harbor area, and of course there was no overlap between the clerics of St. James and Viktor’s people at the Vulgar Unicorn.

“No. I told him that you were, and that you were going to claim him as father,” said Lasse.

Lasse and Tat’yana both stepped aside as a man came out from the fishmonger with a brace of dried cods over his shoulder and untied the horse. He hesitated, looking at the well-dressed young man and the whore in the stained red dress, but when Lasse raised a questioning eyebrow the man just shook his head, mounted, and rode on.

“There’s been questions asked.” Tat’yana sat down on the post Nicolaus had just left. She kept a bright smile on her face as she looked up on Lasse, but her voice was dead-serious.

“Who and what?”

“One is addressed as von Werle. I don’t know about the other two. They are staying in the house of Herr Buchman, who has ordered his servants to give his guests absolutely everything they want, and who practically genuflects every time he meets them.”

“I don’t believe I know Herr Buchman.”

“He’s a major merchant living in the big new brick house by the market square. Viktor has occasionally rented space in one of his warehouses. The three men are searching for a runaway Swedish servant who is also a thief and a murderer. They have a drawing that two of them show around in taverns. One of the children I sometimes hire saw it and came to tell me it looked like you. It’s only a question of time before someone either tells them where you live, or that you often walk around the harbor.”

“I’ll go grab some belongings. Will you ask Boris to buy me a horse and meet me at St. James Tower? I’ll send Viktor my address if I’ll settle down in a place where I might be useful.”

“I’ll have Viktor lend you his big roan horse. It’s faster than any for sale right now. Anything else?”

“No. And thank you, Tat’yana.”

Lasse quickly made his way among the potholes and rubble surrounding the partially rebuilt St. James, but stopped immediately as a rat ran past him down the hill. Rats ran away from-not toward-people. Nicolaus didn’t like the shells of the abandoned houses that once had housed his neighbors, so he always went straight to and from his home. It might of course be nothing more than a hunting cat that had scared the rat, but with Otto in town Lasse preferred not to take any chances.

By leaving the cleared path and moving carefully through the ruins, Lasse made his way to the small yard behind the house, but stopped at the sound of a whining voice coming from the study next to the kitchen.

“I want to take him along. Surely a priest as sacrifice at a Black Mass would produce a spectacular result.” Black Mass? Lasse paused to listen. Had Otto taken up Satanism or was this something entirely different?

“No, Wilhelm.” The sound of Otto’s voice not only answered Lasse’s question, it also made him break out in a cold sweat. “We came for Lasse, not just to grab anything that came our way. You really need to show more discrimination. Lasse is a work of art. Perhaps my very finest. And I want him back to see what new possibilities this small taste of freedom has opened up. This rather pathetic little priest isn’t even pretty enough to keep around for amusement.”

So they had Nicolaus in there and he was still alive. Lasse turned to head for Viktor and Boris, only to see a man standing among the ruins with a gun in his hand.

“So, we meet again, Lasse. Why don’t you go inside? All this sunlight really isn’t good for your complexion.” The man came closer and Lasse recognized Johan, one of Otto’s oldest cronies. Johan had never shown any interest in Lasse and had always withdrawn early from the excesses of Otto’s parties. Johan had probably been concentrating on the political aspects of Otto’s schemes. Not that this was likely to be of much help right now. Whatever Johan’s deal with Otto was, it was highly unlikely that Lasse could offer the man anything better.

“Open the door, and go say hello to Otto. He has been talking a lot about you since you left, and I think you’ll find that you have escaped from the frying pan, only to find yourself in the fire.”

Lasse took a deep breath and went inside, then turned to slam the door behind him, and close it with the thick bar he had installed himself. Three quick steps brought him across the tiny kitchen and into the study.

Nicolaus was sitting in his usual chair behind the table, but across from him, where Lasse usually sat, was Otto. Right beside Lasse stood an unknown man, gaping in surprise.

“Ah, Lasse my dear, do come join us.” Otto turned his head with its gleaming curls to smile at Lasse, but kept his gun pointing straight at Nicolaus. The man to Lasse’s right closed his mouth and started turning his gun toward Lasse. Lasse grabbed the gun with his left hand while sliding his knife into the man’s stomach and jerking it upwards. If Otto shot Nicolaus there would be nothing Lasse could do. Once they lost the advantage of surprise they would have no chance against the armed men, and Nicolaus would certainly die anyway.

Lasse pulled his knife from the man sliding screaming to the floor, and swung the gun around to shoot Otto, only to see Nicolaus turning over the heavy table. Nicolaus leaped over the table with the heavy pewter candlestick in his hand. He swung it toward Otto’s head. The candlestick connected with a sound like a dropped egg, just as the bullet from Otto’s gun buried itself in the heavy oak table.

“Keep down. There’s one more man outside.” Lasse tried to listen for any sound of movement, although the screaming of the wounded man interfered. There was nothing to be seen through the thick bubbled glass of the window, and there was no air movement suggesting that Johan had opened a door. There would have been time enough for the man to get around to the front door or even break open one of the windows.

Nicolaus was kneeling in front of Otto, staring at the man he had killed. No help there. Lasse glided toward the front door as silently as he could. It was neither locked nor barred. Slowly he pressed down on the handle and stood aside to let the door swing open. Nothing. Outside was silence. Inside, the screams had faded to a whimper.

Lasse waited. This was the kind of situation where impatience would get you killed. Then a slow shuffle outside. A horse? Lasse chanced a quick glance out the door. Viktor’s big roan horse was walking slowly past the door snatching at the weeds growing along the path.

“Boris! Are you there?” Lasse shouted.

“Yes, with friends! All clear?”

“All clear in here, but one man outside.”

“He’s no longer a problem,” the gravelly voice of Viktor sounded from beside the door. “Brigitte is quite protective of you. She insisted we all come. Who’s the hurt one?” Viktor came through the door with Tat’yana close behind.

“I’ve no idea, but I spilled his guts. I’ll go clean it up.” Lasse would have liked to give the woman a hug, but judging from her flat watchful eyes her Brigitte persona was still in control, so he’d better just leave her alone until it faded. Tat’yana was in many ways even more damaged than Lasse, but she had dealt with her problems in her own way, and usually managed to balance her various personas quite well. Still, when Brigitte was in control, you’d better be careful.

Nicolaus was still kneeling by Otto’s corpse, tentatively reaching out to touch the bloody curls.

“He’s quite dead. They don’t look like that if there’s any chance they’ll wake up.” Tat’yana had gone forward to squat beside Nicolaus, who looked up at her with unseeing eyes. “How do you do?” Tat’yana held her hand out almost into his face, and he took it by reflex. “You must be Nicolaus. Lasse has told me about you. I’m Tat’yana.”

“Yes. Yes, I’m Nicolaus. Lasse, what are you doing!”

Lasse stood upright. “Nicolaus, no one recovers from that kind of wound. It really would have been no kindness to let him live.” He paused. “Or did you want to shrive him? Give him a chance to confess his sins? I really don’t think that would have helped his soul. Providing he still had one. I heard him wanting to sacrifice you at a Black Mass.”

Nicolaus shook his head and looked away. “This is a nightmare,” he whispered.

“No, my dear friend. This is encountering and fighting evil. You’ve done nothing wrong.” Lasse pulled Nicolaus up from the floor. “Come say hello to my friends. Tat’yana you have already met, but this is Viktor and Boris is outside, probably preparing for getting rid of the corpses. These are very good people to have along if you jump into fire.”