Arcanum (47 page)

“We can argue about that later. The Order needed someone to run Carinthia for them: the princes were a safe choice. Father would tell son about the great battles the hexmasters had fought, and, in turn, the son would tell his son. They had us just where they wanted us, and, let’s be honest about it, we were all happy with the arrangement.”

Felix worried the scabs on his hand against the wood of the chair. His eyes had narrowed to thin, angry slits.

“Oh, you can press me for this later,” said Büber, “if you can catch me, that is. But one of your ancestors had a really smart idea. Perhaps he realised, just as I did, but a lot sooner. There really are two powers in Carinthia, and we’re standing … well, you’re not, you’re sitting … anyway, this is one of them. The library. So many words, carefully collected over the years, by men like these.” Büber swung his arm out and encompassed the whole meagre staff. “I can’t read a single one of these books, but I’ll tell you this: they’ve saved my life on more than one occasion, and if they can save me, rough and illiterate as I am, what else can they do?

“Their way – the magic way – it’s over. Whatever Eckhardt comes up with, he can’t keep it going. Not even if he kills every man, woman and child in Carinthia and beyond. One day, he’ll run out of time or sacrifices, and that’ll be that. But there’ll be nothing left after he’s done. No way back for anyone who has the misfortune to survive. If we save the library, we can start again, and on the right path this time, not the one that the hexmasters led us down.”

The prince had let his head drop, deep in thought. Now he raised it. “It would take an army to defend this place.”

“My lord, you haven’t got an army.” Büber laughed out loud. “You’ve got two.”

Felix picked up the Sword of Carinthia and got up. He circled the huntmaster. “Two armies?”

“Librarians and Jews. I thought we were going to have to rely on just these pasty-faced scribblers, but you’ve created another force of fighting men simply by not throwing the Jews to that wolf across the river.”

“There are thousands out there, Master Büber. We’ve got no more than two score here!”

“Does that matter?” Büber asked.

Felix was in front of him, shaking his bloodied sword. “Are you stupid, or something?”

Büber bit his lip for a moment, and resisted the temptation to knock Felix’s blade aside with his own. “No. You think we’re fighting the townsfolk? You need those people: when we’ve won, you’ll need them to bake their bread and weave their clothes.”

“They’re rebelling against my rule, huntmaster. Or haven’t you noticed? Where’s my stepmother? Where are my half-brothers and sisters? Where’s my chamberlain and my mayor? Where are my earls? For all I know, they’re dead, killed by those bastards outside. If I can kill every one of them, I will.”

“What sort of man do you want to be when you grow up, my lord? Do you want to be loved, or feared?”

“Both. Is that too much to ask?”

In the silence that followed, the doors boomed again. Then again. A regular, dull crash that meant only one thing.

Büber tried to hide his smile. “If there was time, I’d tell you how I saw Signore Allegretti in a beer cellar this morning, whispering loudly to anyone who’d hear that the magic would come back if only they could find a way of giving the last hexmaster what he wanted.”

“He did … what?”

“He didn’t see me. For a big man, I can hide in the smallest shadow. I was more than close enough, though. I take it you didn’t send him out with that message?”

Felix’s sword-point clattered against the floor, and he barely held the grip.

“But I ordered him to kill Eckhardt. Are you saying he betrayed me?”

“Yes.” There was no way to soften the blow, and little reason to do so. “We’ll kill Eckhardt all right. It’s the only way to stop this madness. Right now, though? This is where we need to make our stand. Right here among the books. We can let the library burn. We can let all the librarians get dragged away. Or we can fight. What do you reckon, my lord? Can we save this place?”

Felix looked around him at all the pale, nervous, candle-lit faces, and beyond them to the rows and rows of spines, each with their lettering and decorations.

“We can try,” he said.

Büber nodded. “Then raise your sword, Prince Felix of Carinthia. There’s a lot of work to do.”

Sophia didn’t know what to do. Actually, she did know what to do, just that she had no idea how to accomplish it.

Felix was out there, somewhere, and he hadn’t come back.

The streets she could see – she was surprised by how many she could look straight along from one of the fortress’s many walls – seemed alive with shadows and light. The townspeople had found the fallen torches from the funeral party, or hastily made their own, and tall smoky flames flickered against the window glass and painted shop signs.

There was, inevitably, a concentration of people around the Old Market and Scale Place at either end of Jews’ Alley, but they seemed to drift back and forth without direction.

The quayside still shone brightly, and beyond that ghastly blue light glistened over by the novices’ house. There was, however, a lot of commotion in front of the library. Which seemed odd, until she considered that there might be librarians inside.

She listened, and over the general noise of tumult, she could hear a rhythmic bass banging: the gaps between each concussion were long, drawn-out, like the beating of a giant heart, the sound echoing out over the town and up to her.

Taking her lantern, she wound her way down to the main courtyard, where many of the Jews still were. The women and children had mostly found shelter inside the workshops, unwilling to go anywhere near the kitchens or storerooms where the preponderance of pork-based foodstuffs was simply too much.

They outnumbered the servants vastly, who had retreated to the places where the Jews wouldn’t go. No one seemed in control any more. Reinhardt was doing his best, but he had no guarantee that the two elderly guards he’d left at the Wagon Gate wouldn’t let Eckhardt’s mob in, just because they’d been asked nicely.

There was certainly no thought of going back into the town and searching for the prince.

She found her father in the crowd of Sabbath-best men.

“We’ve got to do something. Lots of somethings.”

“Calm yourself, daughter, and do you really have to drag that pig-sticker around with you?”

She was maintaining a death-grip on the sword she’d taken from Messinger’s office. “Yes, apparently. We’re not safe here. Not yet.”

“Some of these walls are twenty feet thick, child.” They were, too. Passing through them was more like entering and leaving a tunnel.

“And some of the gatekeepers are just as dense, Father. We can’t rely on them.”

“What do you suggest we do? Seize the castle ourselves?” He looked at her determined expression. “Oy. You’re serious.”

“In the prince’s name, Father. If that mob gets in here, it’s not just us who are lost. The whole of Carinthia will go up in flames.” She wanted to sit down all of a sudden, to hand over the whole business to the men who, surely, had more experience in dealing with matters like this. Tired, that was it. She was tired and wanted it to stop.

“I’ll talk to them,” said Morgenstern.

“That’s not enough,” she complained. “I know what you’re like. Talking, talking, never deciding. We don’t have time for talk.”

Her father was affronted at first, then had the grace to look abashed. “It’s how we decide things. Yes, it can take a while, but at least we can all agree.”

“Can you all agree right now that you’d rather not be hanged from the fortress walls or fed to Eckhardt?” she asked, loudly enough to begin to attract attention.

Morgenstern, his back to the rest of the men, equivocated. “Most likely, but Sophia, we’ve nothing to worry about. We’re here under the prince’s protection.”

“And how long will that last without a prince? Where is he? Where’re his earls? They’re dead and he’s lost. There’s nothing to stop Eckhardt coming up here and doing whatever he wants. Unless you think a couple of old men with spears are going to stand in his way?” She had an audience again. When all this was over, she determined that she would do nothing else in her life but read. “Yet we have over two centuries of able-bodied men cowering behind these walls, shaking their heads and pulling at their beards, thanking HaShem for their deliverance.”

“We have been delivered,” said Rabbi Cohen, and he added, somewhat reluctantly, “thanks to you. Let the Germans do what they want outside: it’s no concern of ours.”

“No concern? No concern?” She spluttered and her blood-stiff skirt scratched as it swung. “We’ve just left our homes, run for our lives, and all we have to show for it is a better class of prison in which to die. How can you say we’re not concerned with what happens outside?”

“Sophia, you’ve done what you can. Go and wash. Put the sword down. Give thanks to Elohei Sara, Elohei Rivka, Elohei Leah v’Elohei Rakhel.”

She closed her eyes. It was useless, and, worst of all, Cohen was right. They hadn’t started this, and they certainly weren’t going to finish it either. But still the insistent bang of heavy wood on heavy wood filtered up over the high walls and down to her ears.

Into the midst of them ran a man in a black robe. He was gasping for air, and he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t stand, either. He crouched down on his haunches, coughing and spitting. He was a librarian.

“Which …” he said, “which of you …?”

“Someone find him a drink,” said Cohen. “Tell the women that someone out here needs a drink of water.”

The man pushed himself half-upright, resting his hands on his bent knees. “Gods, which one of you is Sophia Morgenstern?”

The Jewish men all looked at the librarian, then at Sophia.

“I am,” she said. “That’s me.”

The librarian peered up at her from his half-bent state. “Prince Felix sends his greetings and requests every loyal Carinthian to arm themselves and come to the library at once.”

A woman crossed the courtyard and pressed a cup of water into the man’s hand. He rasped his thanks and gulped until the cup was dry. Straightening himself, he took in the curious stand-off between Sophia and the rabbi: she on one side, and every male Jew on the other.

“Miss Morgenstern?” He turned to her, and lowered his voice. “They can understand German, can’t they?”

“Oh, they understand perfectly. Mr …?”

“Braun. Ernst Braun, at your service.” He bowed to her. Sophia wore the prince’s ring: why wouldn’t he?

“Perhaps hearing themselves described as loyal Carinthians is so much of a novelty, it’s shocked them into silence.” She frowned at the rabbi, and at her neighbour, Mr Rosenbaum, who stood just behind the cantor. She knew all of them, and in turn each of them looked down and away.

Except her father.

“I told all of you that if we were loyal Carinthians, we’d give up the lion’s share of our bonfire wood for Gerhard’s pyre,” he said. “We did. That must mean we’re all loyal Carinthians.” He momentarily took his hat off and wiped his forehead. “Where do they keep the weapons?”

Braun blinked. “Grandfather, the prince didn’t mean you.”

“Less of the grandfather, boy. I can still break skulls if I have to.”

Sophia intervened. “Stay and guard the castle, Father. Better still, stay and be in charge of the castle until Felix gets back. Go and find Reinhardt. Get him to open the armoury.” When he hesitated, she didn’t. “Father, go.”

The sound of him shuffling as fast as he could across the stone flags merely served as a reminder that he was the only volunteer so far.

“Please,” said Braun, addressing the men, “the library is surrounded. The mob is outside. Only the prince and Master Büber have swords. All the librarians are with them, but we can’t hold out alone.”

“Young man,” said Cohen. “Why the library? Why not here? Surely the fortress is the safest place to be.”

“But,” said Braun, “the library isn’t in the fortress. It’s down there. If it burns, it’s gone forever, and Master Büber has convinced the prince it’s the most important building in the whole of Carinthia. Without it, nothing will be worth saving.”

His reply silenced the rabbi. So Sophia asked instead.

“Mr Braun. Why would he believe that?”

“Because we have to learn to do without magic, Miss Morgenstern. We have no one to teach us except those books.”

She smiled. “How long have we waited to hear that? Listen to him, please. The Germans want to live without magic, and we can help them.” She deliberately stood next to Braun and planted her sword between her feet.

“Miss Morgenstern, I don’t think the prince meant you, either,” whispered the librarian.

“Shut up, you fool,” she said. “Don’t you know how shame works?”

“Honestly? No.” He forced himself to look away. “I’ll take your word for it.”

They stood shoulder to shoulder, and Sophia fixed her neighbours with her dark eyes. “Prince Felix is against Eckhardt. If we stand with him now, we’ll be honoured throughout the land. We’ll live and prosper in Carinthia as long as the story is told of how the brave Jews of Juvavum took the prince’s side and defeated his enemies. And don’t think that Eckhardt isn’t our enemy: he’ll take every one of us, your wives and your children, until there are none of us left to remember. If the prince falls, so do we. If he wins, so do we.” She kicked her foot at the sword-blade so that is grated against the stone. “HaShem has given us this opportunity. Do we spend our lives or do we squander them?”

It took a while, but, eventually, one of them broke.

And it was Rabbi Cohen. He ruefully turned around and raised his arms high as if in blessing. “So what are we waiting for? Pesach? Our families will stay, and we’ll go. David, go and find out what’s keeping Aaron. If you think you’re too old, too young or too infirm – and yes, I do mean you, Enosh – you be gatekeepers. Being too scared isn’t reason enough: if you want courage, ask El ha-Gibbor to provide.”

Cohen took over organising the men into groups, and Sophia moved away. They weren’t going to take orders from her directly anyway, even if they agreed with what she wanted them to do. She twisted Felix’s ring around and around her thumb as she waited.