The Fiery Angel (7 page)
Renata displayed real joy at seeing me, and it seemed to me that perhaps she had imagined I had flown secretly and left her. We breakfasted together in care-free spirit, once more without recalling the torments of the night, as if in daylight we were quite different beings. Immediately after the meal we walked over to the barge, for she was quite ready to set sail. The barge was of goodly bulk, with steep sides, and two-masted, and we were given on board a large cabin situated in the bow part of the vessel, which was raised high and terminated in a peaked roof. I spread blankets on the floor, and, in such accommodation, an envoy of the Great Mogul himself might have travelled without fatigue.
We cast off from the docks of Düsseldorf soon after noon, and travelled without much adventure until Köln itself, two days and nights, spending the hours of darkness riding at anchor. During all this journey, both by day and by night, Renata remained very calm and reasonable, and she showed no signs either of deceitful gaiety, as on the day when we were riding to Geerdt, or of dark despair, as during the night spent under the sign “
Im Lewen
.” Very often she joined with me in being enchanted by the beauty of the places past which we travelled, and engaged with me in conversation upon various matters of common life or art.
Certain words said to me by Renata at this time I think it necessary to enter here, as far as I remember them, for later I found in them the key to the riddle of certain of her actions.
They were uttered when the owner of the barge, a stern mariner named Moritz Krock, broke into our conversation and it happened to turn to events that had taken place just about that time at Münster. At first glance Moritz had not the appearance of a fanatical reformer, he was attired in ordinary sailor’s clothes, like myself, and carried on the duties of his profession, but he spoke with such fervour of the new prophet from Leyden, whom he called “Iohann the Righteous, mounted upon the Throne of David,” that I began to doubt whether he were not himself one of the re-baptised. Having related to us how the citizens of Münster had destroyed images, organs and all church properties, and lumped together all their goods to have and use in common, how they had established twelve elders, according to the number of the twelve tribes of Israel, and placed Iohann Bockelszoon at their head, and how the Münsterners, fortified by the armies of Heaven had successfully repulsed the episcopalian landsknechts, Moritz continued, as if delivering a sermon:
“For a long time we men hungered and thirsted, and there came to pass the prophecy of Jeremiah: ‘The children shall cry out for bread and there shall be none shall give unto them.’ The darkness of Egypt enveloped the vaults of the temple, but now they resound with hymns of triumph. The new Gideon has been hired by the Lord as day-labourer at a groschen a day, and he has sharpened his scythe to mow the yellowed fields. Forged are the lances on the anvil of Nimrod and his tower is ripe to fall. Elijah is risen in the New Jerusalem and the true prophets of the true Apostolic Church fare out unto all lands—to preach a God who is not dumb, but liveth and speaketh!”
To this arrogant speech I replied, with circumspection, that it was as dangerous for new thoughts discovered by learned men to become the property of the people, as for daggers to be distributed to children as toys. That the pomp of the church, as well as of many church institutions, perhaps even the monastic, so often plunged deep in riches, did in truth not correspond to the spirit of the teaching of Jesus Christ, but that it was impossible to better the matter by riot and force. That, lastly, life must be rejuvenated not by abolishing dogmas and robbing princes, but by educating minds.
It was here that Renata joined unexpectedly into the conversation, though I had thought that she had not been listening at all to Moritz’ words and had been busy studying the currents of the river, and she said:
“Only those who have never known what faith means can speak of such things. Who has but once experienced with what bliss the soul is received into God—will never even think of a necessity to forge lances or sharpen scythes. All these Davids marching against Belials—these Luthers, these Zwinglis and these Iohanns—are the servants of the Devil and his henchmen. What a deal we talk of the crimes of others, but what if we were to turn our glance upon ourselves, and look as if into a mirror—were to see our sins and our shame? Ah, then would we be horrified, and flee into the cell of a monastery as the stag flies from the huntsman. It is not the church we must reform, but our own souls, that are no more able to pray to the Almighty and have faith in His word but must ever be desiring to reason and prove. And if you, Rupprecht, thought as this man here, I would not stay with you a moment longer, but would rather throw myself head foremost into this river by our side than share a cabin with a heretic.”
These words, that seemed to me very unexpected at the time, Renata uttered with passion, and, quickly getting up, she walked away briskly. And Moritz also, having looked at me not without suspicion, walked away and began to abuse his mates.
We never returned to the subject, but Moritz shunned us, and we were left on the barge in complete solitude, which I preferred. After the angry words of Renata, I endeavoured to conciliate her and pay her more attention, to show her more openly how much store I set upon her affection; for example, the whole night until daybreak, which Renata spent sleepless in the cabin, I remained with her and at her request softly stroked her hair, until my hand grew almost numb. Renata, apparently, was grateful to me and treated me, during these hours and next morning as well, with a kindness quite exceptional. Thus our friendly calm lasted until our very arrival at Köln, where it suddenly snapped like a rigging rope at the onset of a tempest.
In the decline of the second day of our journey, there appeared far off the tops of the churches of Köln, and it was with a heartfelt emotion that I pointed out to Renata the spire of Saint Martin, the squat roof of Saint Gereon, the narrow tower of the Brothers Minorite, the enormous massive of the Senate House, and at last the giant torn in two, the unfulfilled grandeur of the Cathedral of the Three Kings. When we approached more nearly and I could distinguish the streets, the houses, and the old trees still standing, my emotion was roused to its highest pitch, and I was ready to weep with ecstasy, for a moment forgetting Renata. This circumstance, judging by everything, did not escape her cat-like observation, and she at once amended her amiable attitude towards me, becoming stern and unbending, like a reed that stiffens in the frost.
Our barge docked at the Netherlands quay in the midst of other vessels, both sailing and rowing, at the time when the confusion on the quays was at its height. Having taken leave of Moritz and clambered ashore, we plunged from our solitude on board ship as if into the first circle of the Inferno of Alighieri, where are heard:
Diverse lingue, orribilie fevelle,
Parole di dolore, accenti d’ira,
Voci alte e fiochi. …
Everywhere lay unladed goods, barrels and cases, everywhere crowded men, sailors, mariners, dock-hands, clerks of the merchant houses, carriers and simple idlers; here too drove up carts for the carriage of heavy merchandise; wheels squeaked, horses whinnied, dogs barked, men bustled, shouted and swore, and we became surrounded by traders, and Jews and carriers, all offering their services. But as soon as I had picked a lad out of the crowd, and bidden him carry our baggage, Renata, without any warning, turned to me and, in a voice quite changed, spoke thus:
“Now, Master Knight, I would thank you. You have rendered me great service by escorting me hither. Go now your ways, and I will find me shelter in this town. Farewell, and may God protect you.”
I thought that Renata was saying this out of exaggerated courtesy, and began to remonstrate politely, but she replied to me, now quite firmly:
“Why seek you to intrude into my life? I thank you for your pains and your assistance, but now I require them no longer.”
Taken aback, for then I as yet knew little the soul of Renata, all woven of contradictions and surprises like a cloth of many-hued yarn, I reminded her of the oaths we had exchanged, but Renata turned to me for a third time, with indignation and not without rudeness:
“You are not my father, nor my brother, nor my husband; you have no right to detain me by your side. If you think that by spending a few guldens you have bought my body, you are mistaken, for I am not a woman from a house of pleasure. I go where I list, and you cannot force me to stay with you by threats if your companionship be distasteful to me.”
In despair, I began to speak volubly, much of what I said I cannot now recall, at first reproaching Renata, then humbly beseeching her and clasping her hands to retain her, but she shrank away from me with contempt, and perhaps even with disgust, and replied shortly but stubbornly that she wished to be alone. Strangers began to take note of our dispute, and when with especial insistence, I urged Renata to follow me she threatened to seek protection from my assaults with the city reiters, or simply with any good people.
Then, deciding on hypocrisy, I spoke as follows:
“Noble lady, my knightly duty does not permit me to leave a lady alone, in the evening, amidst a crowd of strangers. The streets are not safe by twilight, for robbers and misbehaving revellers are abroad. I do not fear to face the guard, for my conscience is guiltless of any crime, but to part with you now I will not agree, for anything in the world. Lastly, by all that is holy, I swear to you that to-morrow morning, if you still desire it, I shall give you final and complete freedom, shall not burden you with my presence, and shall not dream of attempting to trace where you have gone.”
Probably realising that I would not relent, Renata submitted with that indifference with which submit those sorely ill, to whom all is one, and, closing her cape to conceal her face, she followed me through the city gate. I ordered the baggage to be carried to a widow of my acquaintance, one Martha Ruttmann, who since the death of her husband had lived by letting out rooms to travellers. She dwelt not far from the church of Saint Cecilia, in an old, low, two-storied house, herself living below, and letting out the upper floor for money. To reach her we had to traverse the whole town, and Renata did not let slip a word the whole way, nor did she bend back the edge of her hood.
To my surprise, Martha at once recognised in the sunburnt mariner the beardless scholar who had caroused at her board in the years gone by, and was as glad to see me as if I had been a relative; she began to spoil me, prattling:
“Ah, Master Rupprecht! Did I ever hope to see you again? Look, all these ten years I’ve not forgotten you! Master Gerard did say that you ran off with the landsknechts, and I thought that only your bones were left, whitening somewhere in the fields of Italy. And look, what a strapping and stern and handsome man you have become—the spit and image of St. George on the holy painting! Step upstairs; there I have rooms disengaged and ready: there’s not much business now—everyone tries to get into the hostelries, so that affairs are slack, trade goes down, it’s not as in bygone days.”
In a quiet voice I ordered her to prepare all the upstairs rooms for myself and my wife, saying that I should pay in good Rhine gold, and Martha, sensing money in my purse as a hunting dog senses game, became even twice as polite and admiring. Walking backwards before us, she led the way to the upper floor, but, while Martha fussed, getting everything ready for the night and questioning me with many gossiping asides, Renata played throughout the dumb part in a comœdia, not even unveiling her face, as if in fear that she might be recognised. But as soon as we were left alone, she at once said to me commandingly:
“You will sleep, Rupprecht, in that room there, and do not dare to come to me unless I call.”
I looked Renata in the face and made no sound in reply, but I walked out with such a weight upon my soul as if I had been condemned to be branded with a hot iron. I wanted either to weep, or to thrash this woman who had so strange a power over me. I gritted my teeth and said to myself: “All right, all right then; if only you give me the chance, I shall repay you alb for alb”—and at the same time it seemed to me as though it would be heavenly bliss only to sit once more at Renata’s bedside and stroke her hair until my hand was exhausted. Not daring to disobey her injunction, I agonised in bed, like one drunk, to whom the world sways like the deck of a caravel, until weariness overmastered my bitter-angry thoughts. Till the morning, however, nightmares suffocated me and I seemed to see the beldam of Geerdt, astride on my bosom, roaring and drinking blood as it spouted from my breast, while Renata with a youth in flaming robes floated past through a blue garden amid gigantic lilies, and I crawled after them like a toad, my heavy limbs powerless to part from the earth.
None the less, the habit of the camp woke me with its drum at the customary hour, and I had time to put myself in order and freshen my head before Renata summoned me. But she called in a voice stern and Callous, and when I heard the comfortless words that she addressed to me I felt as though I were swallowing all the green waters of the ocean waves with not one tiny sail on the whole horizon.
This is what Renata said to me, not mentioning anything of her yesterday’s intention of leaving me:
“Listen, Rupprecht! We must find Heinrich this very day, I do not wish to wait one day longer. We must find him, though we have to tramp through the whole town. Let us go then!”
I would have replied to this commanding speech that I could be of but little help in the search for Count Heinrich, never having seen him face to face, but so imperative was Renata’s gaze that I found neither words nor voice, and when, lowering her hood, quickly and determinedly, she rushed out into the street, I moved after her like a shadow tied to her. And never will I forget those frantic rushings from church to church, through every street, that we carried out that day! Not once, but many times, did we comb the whole of Köln from Saint Cunibert to Saint Severin and from the Holy Apostles to the shore of the Rhine, and it became clear that Renata was not for the first time in this city. First of all she dragged me to the Cathedral, but, tarrying there but little, she rushed to the Town Hall, circled round it, scanning the Market and the Square, and past Hürzenich she nearly ran to the ancient Mary of the Capitol. At the leaf of this sumptuous trefoil we wearied silently for some time, Renata with greedy eyes studying every figure as it appeared far away upon the street, and I, at her side, making a supreme effort of will to appear unconcerned and care-free. Then Renata seized me by the hand and dragged me quickly, quickly, either pursuing or fleeing from pursuit, first towards Saint George, where the masons, who were building a new and luxurious porch, gazed at us in astonishment, then to Saint Panteleon. And later still we encountered Saint Gereon with his holy hosts, were sighed after by the eleven thousand immaculate virgins who rest with Saint Ursula, glared at by the huge eye of the Minorites, and at last we came back to the quay side of the Rhine, beneath the shadow of the imposing tower of Saint Martin, where Renata waited with such certainty and confidence as though it were here that she had been foretold a meeting by a voice from Sinai, while I dully watched and studied the bustling life of the docks, saw how the vessels sailed up and away, and the lading and unlading of many-hued barges, marked how men fuss and fret, always busying themselves over something and always hurrying somewhere, and all the time I reflected that they had no concern with two strangers, hiding near a church wall.
