Sent to the Devil (32 page)

I had just convinced myself to go home when the wooden doors creaked open and a guard looked out.

“Who's there?” the guard called. “You there, what do you want? It is past curfew. No one may be admitted to the city.”

“I am Lorenzo Da Ponte,” I said. “The theater poet. I am on an important errand for the minister of police, Count Pergen.”

“Stay there, sir,” he said. “Let me see if your name is on the list.” He retreated into the gatehouse and closed the doors.

I considered an alternative scenario should I not arrive at Krause's meeting place on time. What if the deranged priest hid himself, and when I did not arrive by one, watched as the police came out from the shadows? Would he be so angered that he came to my lodgings to butcher me?

The wooden doors scraped open once more and the guard beckoned to me. “Come in, sir,” he said. “There is a message here from Inspector Troger of the ministry telling us to allow you passage.”

I walked through the doors.

“You are lucky I wasn't making rounds along the bastions, sir,” the guard said. “I'm alone here tonight.”

“I don't understand,” I said. “I was under the impression that there were several guards at each gate at this hour.”

“That's right, sir,” he said. “There were four of us here when curfew began. But just an hour ago the others were summoned into the city. Apparently there is some disturbance going on near the Am Hof. Someone reported a break-in at the basement of the fire station where some of the smaller arms destined for the troops are stored. The constable who came by told us that it might be some Turkish sympathizers trying to steal the weapons. The constabulary was trying to get enough men to search the city between the Am Hof and the canal.”

I nodded.

“Go about your business for the minister, sir,” the man said. “But be careful if you are headed in that direction.”

“I'm going to the Neuer Market,” I said.

“Then you should have no trouble, sir. As far as I know, that area is quiet tonight.”

He bade me good night. I drew my cloak around me and walked into the dark city.

 

Thirty-four

I turned down the Suningerstrasse, straining to hear any noise behind me, but all was quiet. I passed the spot where I had tussled with Teuber. A few steps later I was at the corner of the Grünangergasse, where Krause had bought the paper on which he wrote his sinister messages. My heart pounded as I walked by the Church of the Teutonic Order. My destination was a few blocks away. I wondered if Casanova had already arrived and secreted himself in the shadows.

The Stephansdom loomed on my right as I skirted the edge of the Stephansplatz and turned down the Kärntnerstrasse. The broad market street was empty, the vendors' carts shuttered, the shops bolted against the evils of the night. My knees shook as I made my way down the street, my ears straining to hear if anyone else was about. Perhaps Krause was nearby, on his way to our assignation from the cathedral. He could be standing in any of the dark entryways, watching me go by. I shook my head. No, that was nonsense. Urbanek had told me that Krause lived in the Judenplatz. He would be approaching the Neuer Market from the opposite direction.

I walked two blocks down the street. As I was about to turn right into the side street that led into the Neuer Market, my ears perked. Were those footsteps sounding behind me? A stab of fear shot through me. Was it Krause? Did he guess that he was walking into a trap? Had he decided to confront me here? I quickened my pace, hurrying toward the Neuer Market, where Troger's men and Casanova waited to protect me. The footsteps sounded behind me again, louder this time, my pursuer picking up his pace to match mine. I reached the entrance to the Neuer Market. Stopping to catch my breath, I strained to hear any sound behind me. Everything was quiet. I took a deep breath to calm myself. Just as I turned into the market square, the candle in my lantern went dark.

*   *   *

The marketplace was lit by a sliver of moon. Vendors' carts lay scattered along the long expanse, empty and abandoned. Directly opposite me, at the other end of the plaza, Prince Schwarzenberg's city palace sat dark. The windows of the smaller palaces that lined the plaza stared blindly down at me. The buildings were unoccupied, their owners having decamped to their country estates either to stamp out uprisings like Benda, or to situate themselves in a place of safety should the emperor's military mission fail and the Turks descend upon Vienna. The Mehlgrube was closed up, its dwindling crowd of patrons having left for home hours before. Across from it, the Capuchin Church was closed and still. Between the two buildings stood the fountain where Krause had instructed me to await him.

I walked down to the other end of the marketplace, staying at the center of the plaza, so as to avoid any sudden grabbing of my cloak by the killer lurking in an entryway to a building. My eyes darted back and forth, peering through the gloom for a sign of Troger's men or Casanova, but they were well hidden, for I saw nothing.

My legs were shaking violently by the time I reached the fountain. I climbed the short set of steps that surrounded the basin and looked around me. What was that movement, there, under the portico of the Mehlgrube? A cloak moving? I squinted into the dark, but saw no other motion.

The large basin had been drained before winter and had not yet been refilled. Patches of mud and damp leaves were strewn over its stone interior. I sat on the edge and waited. It was too dark to examine my watch, but I was certain that it was near one o'clock. I took a deep breath, trying to dampen my fear so that I would be prepared for Krause when he arrived. I sat in the silence, occasionally peering at the tenebrous buildings around me.

I sat there for what seemed ten or more minutes. Nothing stirred. I shivered and pulled my cloak around me. Where was Krause? Had he noticed Troger's men following him, and decided to postpone my day of judgment? Or had the police already arrested him? I wanted to call to Casanova, but did not want to reveal his whereabouts should Krause be lurking somewhere nearby.

A rustling noise, like a cloak brushing past a wall, came from beneath the wide portico of the Mehlgrube. I leapt to my feet. I had had enough of waiting. I started down the steps of the fountain.

“Krause!” I shouted. “Are you there?”

There was no reply. I squinted to see into the portico, but no one was standing in the shadows, as far as I could tell.

“Krause!” I tried to keep my voice from wavering. “Damn you! Where are you?”

All at once, a heavy weight girded my neck. My body was jerked backward. A hissing noise filled my ears. “He's probably at home, snug in his bed,” a familiar voice said.

 

Thirty-five

I reached up and struggled to pull my captor's hands from my neck. He released me and shoved me forward. I stumbled on a step and fell prostrate on the hard stone, my chin hitting a sharp edge. I curled my body and rolled over. I looked up into the sneering face of Felix Urbanek. In his right hand was a small dagger.

I drew in a sharp breath. “You!”

He knelt beside me.

“Yes, I had you fooled, didn't I, Da Ponte? You think you are so smart, with your education and your poetry. You fell right into my little traps.”

He held the dagger a few inches in front of my neck.

“After I killed Dauer, I told you Krause and Dauer were competitors, and you immediately suspected him.” He laughed. “I thought it was a nice touch, killing Dauer over in the Hoher Market, near Krause's lodgings.”

My stomach clenched as he moved the dagger closer. A salty liquid filled my mouth.

“And the paper,” Urbanek said. “Krause was so fond of that paper, with that silly serpent and crown. He never locked his office. It was so easy for me to steal a few sheets as I needed them.”

I stiffened as the cold steel touched my neck. “Why did you kill Dauer?” I hoped that if I kept him talking, Troger's men would have all the evidence they would need.

Urbanek's eyes widened. “Why, to protect the mother church, of course. She is no longer pure. There are sinners everywhere, even within her holy walls.” His lip curled. “Dauer—he called himself a priest, but he came to the cathedral to chase after money and glory. He did nothing to succor the poor souls who came to us for care and guidance.”

His laugh sent ice down my spine.

“I sent him a message, saying I was a wealthy noble who wished to make a donation to the church coffers. I told him that I wished to remain anonymous, but that I would see that he received credit from the archbishop for bringing in the money.” He chuckled. “He came to the Hoher Market eagerly that night.

“And the general—always so proud of his war record and his glory. He attended church only when he was being honored in some way. He never came to honor God.”

The sharp edge of the dagger grazed my neck. I bit my lip to avoid crying out as tears filled my eyes.

“I sent him a note telling him that I was an old soldier who had fought under him, and that I was about to reveal his cowardice on the battlefield to the world,” Urbanek continued. “Of course, I knew of no such incident, but I knew he would come to me anyway, to prevent me from besmirching his name.”

I struggled to pull my head away from the dagger. “Hennen—what had he done to offend you?”

“To offend me? No, no, Da Ponte. You misunderstand me. I did not kill these men because they offended me. I killed them because they had offended God and His church. Hennen? His envy for the whole, healthy bodies of others consumed him. All he wanted was the use of his legs back, so he could go off to war. But he didn't understand that his injury was God's will. How many times did I reach out to him, to bring him into the church, so that he could receive solace? He rejected me every time. He preferred to wallow in his envy.”

He stared down at me and moved the dagger closer to my neck. My bladder began to fail me as he lightly swayed the blade against my skin.

“Hennen came willingly to me the night I killed him. I had mentioned in the note I sent that I possessed an elixir that cured lameness. The fool believed me.”

“But what about Alois?” I rasped. “He loved the church. He was one of the pure.”

Urbanek's froglike eyes gleamed above me. “No, he was not. Why, you heard it yourself, Da Ponte. I asked him to chair a committee for me, for war orphans. He told me he was too busy with his research. He was a glutton with those books of his. He preferred the delights of his study above the church's needs. So I used his sin against him. I sent him a message, telling him I was a visitor to the city, and that I had heard he bought rare religious treatises. He came running over to the chancel that night, to see what I had for him.”

I clenched my teeth. I wanted to grab Urbanek's neck, but feared that if I moved, he would slice my neck open. Where were Troger's men? Surely they had heard enough by now. I looked up into Urbanek's deranged eyes. “And von Gerl? What did he do to the church that angered you enough to kill him?”

Urbanek squinted at me. “Who?”

“Valentin von Gerl, the nobleman.”

Urbanek frowned. His grasp on the dagger loosened. I pulled my neck back.

“You killed him at the general's summer home, the Belvedere,” I said, raising my voice so that the police could hear me. “You carved the
peccatum
into his forehead, as you did with the others.”

Urbanek stared at me for a moment. He threw down the dagger and put his hands under my arms, jerking me upward. His strength seemed inhuman. “No! You are trying to distract me!” He shoved me hard against the basin of the fountain.

I groaned as my back hit the stone. I thrust my arms out to push him, but I was too late. He bent me over the edge of the basin and pressed the blade to my neck. A sharp stinging pain shot down my chest. I closed my eyes, waiting for the death blow.

 

Thirty-six

“I gave the others an opportunity to repent their sin,” Urbanek hissed loudly in my ear. “Now it is your turn, Da Ponte. Do you admit you have committed the sin of sloth?”

Pain shot through my back as he pressed me backward across the lip of the basin. The dagger blade remained at my neck. Cold surged through my body.

“I don't understand the charge. What have I done?”

“You have wasted your life, Da Ponte, on unimportant matters. You were ordained a priest, yet you chose to reject the church and fritter away your talents on that ungodly theater.”

“You would kill me for that?” I cried. “Who appointed you the judge of your fellow man?”

He drew close to me and pressed the blade into my neck. I winced, willing myself not to give him the satisfaction of hearing me cry out in pain. “God has called me. He is angry about the way you have treated His church. He has instructed me to convince you to repent.”

My mind was racing. Where were Troger's men? And where was Casanova? I struggled to lift my head. “Giacomo!” I shouted as loudly as I could.

Urbanek started for just a moment and then tightened his grip on me. He laughed in my ear. “That old libertine cannot help you now.”

Tears filled my eyes. The fiend had discovered my friend and had already killed him. Troger's men were not going to help me. I was experiencing my last moments on this earth. I allowed myself to go limp in Urbanek's grasp. Pain shot through my back. My legs felt like lead stumps.

“You've heard the charge, Da Ponte,” he murmured in my ear. “Do you repent?”

I closed my eyes.

He shook me. “Answer me!” he shouted. “Do you repent?”

I said nothing.

Urbanek grunted in frustration. I felt the dagger leave my neck. I opened my eyes to see him pulling back his arm, readying to administer the deadly slash. Anger surged through me. As a roaring sounded in my ears, I bent my right leg and thrust my knee into Urbanek's groin as hard as I could.