by Laura Lebow
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 t
o 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.
He screamed and doubled over in pain. The dagger clattered to the ground. I rolled out from under him. The dagger was a foot in front of me, on the fountain step. My body throbbed with pain as I grabbed it and used my other hand to pull myself up on the edge of the basin. Urbanek righted himself and lunged for the dagger. I pulled my hand back just in time, but the weapon fell into the empty basin.
I pushed at Urbanek. He grabbed my arm and pulled me. I howled with rage as I twisted away from him and rolled into the basin. I groped for the dagger. He climbed onto the edge and jumped on top of me. We rolled around in the damp, each of us trying to grab the other’s neck.
“Repent!” he screamed as he grabbed me and thrust himself on top of me. His hands went around my neck. I grappled to pull them off, but his grasp seemed almost superhuman. I pulled my arm up and poked him in the eye with my finger. He screamed again. I pushed him off me. As he rolled to the side, I pulled myself on top of him, grabbed his neck with both hands, and pressed as hard as I could.
He flailed underneath me. “Do you surrender?” I cried.
He grunted.
“Surrender!” I pressed my hands harder.
Then a shot rang out behind me.
Thirty-seven
“Giacomo! Thank God you’re here!”
“Give up, Urbanek!” a strange voice called. “Signor Poet, I have him covered. You can let go.”
I turned my head in the direction of the voice. “Giacomo? Where are you?”
Another shot rang out. Urbanek pushed me off him, thrusting me against the basin wall. My head banged into a jutting stone. He groped for the dagger, grabbed it, climbed out the opposite end of the basin, and ran in the direction of the Capuchin Church.
“Are you injured, Signor Poet?” I looked up to see the young man in the green cloak leaning over me. I frowned. Where was Casanova?
“Get him! He’ll escape!” I cried.
Green Cloak ran after Urbanek. I pulled myself up, climbed out of the basin, and hobbled after him. My legs felt like aspic. Green Cloak passed the entrance to the church and turned the corner.
When I arrived at the far side of the old building, I found Green Cloak standing by a large wooden door, which stood ajar. He gestured for me to join him.
“He’s gone down there, into the crypt,” he whispered, pointing to a stairway that was shrouded in darkness. I shuddered. The wooden door groaned as Green Cloak pulled it open and gestured for me to follow him down the stairs. “Keep quiet,” he whispered. “Stay right behind me.” I nodded. We plunged into the darkness, Green Cloak feeling his way down the stairs, I keeping close behind him. When we finally reached flat ground, Green Cloak fumbled for the handle of another door. The hinges creaked loudly as he pulled the door open and we entered the crypt.
A lonely torch burned in a sconce inside the door. Green Cloak took it down. “Are you all right, signore?” he asked under his breath.
“Yes,” I whispered. “But who are you? Why are you here?”
He placed a finger on his lips. “Later,” he said.
We stood silently in the torchlight. The low space was filled with the tombs of the Habsburg family. I could just make out the nearest sarcophagi, which were large bronze monuments. I strained to hear an indication that Urbanek was here in the crypt. The scurrying of tiny feet came from somewhere ahead of us.
“Just rats,” Green Cloak said. “Stay behind me, signore.” He waved the torch in a broad arc. To our left, marble nymphs sat weeping at the base of a large monument, which was faintly lit by moonlight pouring in a window behind it.
“The old empress’s tomb,” Green Cloak whispered. A faint humming sound came from our right. Green Cloak swung the torch in that direction. “Follow me, signore,” he murmured.
To my left, just beyond the circle of light, I saw several more large tombs. I followed Green Cloak for a few steps, past a large monument on my right. The humming sound grew louder.
I gulped for breath as I followed Green Cloak, keeping my eyes on the ground so I would not trip over any of the old stones that lined the floor of the crypt. As we passed a large monument, I looked up, and came face-to-face with the head of a skeleton wearing a jeweled, golden crown. He grinned at me, his bronze mouth frozen in a rictus of death. I stifled a cry.
We passed into a larger room of the crypt. In the flickering of the torchlight, I made out over a dozen sarcophagi, many of them small. Ahead of us, off to the right, a voice began to chant.
“‘Oh, queen! Why in your anger did you choose to end your life?’”
“Urbanek!” Green Cloak called. “Come out. Surrender yourself!”
The chanting stopped. All was silent, except for the scrabbling noise of the rats. Green Cloak inched forward, motioning me to follow.
“‘A figure, crucified—his face stained with disdain and fury as he died!’” Urbanek cried.
“Do you understand what he is saying?” Green Cloak asked me in a low voice.
“It’s from Dante,” I whispered. “It’s about the sin of wrath.” We moved down the line of coffins. The torch illuminated a narrow doorway a few feet ahead of us on the right.
“‘Below him the great Ahasuerus, and Esther!’” the deranged priest shouted from inside the doorway.
Green Cloak gestured for me to wait, and then inched over to the door. He held the torch up and peered inside. He turned to me and motioned me over.
An eerie sensation gripped me as I walked toward him. The doorway led to a tiny room, only large enough to hold two ancient caskets side by side. They bore small bronze carvings of lions’ heads, and sat on legs shaped to resemble the legs of that noble beast. Urbanek had wedged himself into the narrow area between the rightmost casket and the wall. He was hunched in the corner, holding the dagger to his own throat. His wild eyes looked at us.
“Repent!” he shrieked. “Change your life!”
“Urbanek, come out!” Green Cloak called.
The priest did not answer him. He seemed in his own world, holding a court where he was both judge and the judged. “The ultimate hour is here!” he cried. He pushed the dagger closer to his throat. “No!” he screamed.
“Urbanek, drop the dagger,” Green Cloak said.
“Repent!” the priest screamed again.
His face was white in the torchlight. “Who tears at my spirit? Who roils my bowels?” he said softly.
My stomach heaved as I watched him. I willed myself to look away, but I could not.
“Come, there is a worse fate for you,” he said. He pulled the dagger away from his throat. Green Cloak exhaled loudly.
“The terrors of the inferno,” Urbanek said in a loud whisper. He raised his head and stared directly at me. My legs shook violently. The priest raised the dagger, screamed, and drew the blade across his neck in one rapid motion.
A gurgling noise filled the small room. Stars danced before my eyes.
“Christ!” Green Cloak shouted.
My legs melted beneath me, and I fell into darkness.
Thirty-eight
I opened my eyes to bright light and a familiar voice.
“Ah, there you are, Lorenzo.” Casanova leaned over me. “I was worried about you. You’ve stirred a few times over the past hours, but then fell back to sleep.”
“Where am I?” I asked. My voice was hoarse, my throat tight and dry.
“In the Hofburg,” Casanova said. “You are safe. Urbanek is dead.”
I reached up to find bandages around my throat.
“Your wounds will heal in a few weeks, the surgeon said.” Green Cloak moved into my range of vision. “You were very brave, Signor Poet.”
“Who are you?” I rasped.
He gave a small bow. “Thomas Zack, signore. Special agent to Count Pergen.”
I frowned.
“I don’t understand.”
“I work on special security matters for the count, signore. Apparently the emperor was very angry that you had been placed in danger during your investigation of the murders at the Palais Gabler. So as soon as you agreed to investigate this case, the count assigned me to follow you.”
“But when I accosted you in the street—why didn’t you tell me who you were?”
“My instructions were to let you go about your business. Also, I could not be everywhere, at all times. I wanted you to believe that you were being menaced, so you would remain alert.”
I mulled this over for a moment. “I am grateful to you,” I told Zack. “You saved my life.”
He smiled. “I wouldn’t say that, signore. You seemed to be defending yourself well before I intervened. I shot my pistol because I thought you were going to kill Urbanek.”
I looked over at Casanova. “What happened to you, Giacomo?”
“I arrived at the Neuer Market early, as we had arranged. The fiend must have already been there, waiting. He sneaked up behind me and hit me on the head. I came to when I heard you and Urbanek fighting. I was trussed up like a roasted pigeon, but after a few moments, I escaped my binds.” He glanced over at Zack. “I saw you and Urbanek rolling around inside the fountain. I was about to come to your aid when this fellow showed up and shot his pistol.”
Zack winked at me. “Yes, that’s how I remember it.”
“Where were Troger’s men?” I asked.
“There was an incident in the Am Hof earlier in the evening. There were reports that someone, possibly Turkish spies, tried to break into the armory. Men were called from every service to search the northwest part of the city. It was a waste of time and men—some overly imaginative residents in the Am Hof saw some workmen and raised a false alarm. Troger sent his men out there, and kept one back to follow Father Krause.”
