by Cory Barclay
“What a barbaric thing,” Margreth said.
“It’s just a wolf, Margreth. And if that’s the Werewolf of Bedburg, then I’m the pope,” Johannes said.
Margreth smirked. “I’m not talking about the wolf, little boy,” she whispered as she leaned close to Johannes’ ear. “That really is quite the man, though, isn’t it?”
Sybil could see Johannes blush and stammer, but before he could say anything, Margreth Baumgartner was sashaying away, hips swaying from side to side.
“That bitch,” Johannes said through gritted teeth. He turned to Sybil. “Don’t become like her, girl. She’s just angry she can’t get what she wants all the time.”
As if the same couldn’t be said about any of you, Sybil thought, but she said, “As you wish, my lord.”
“What did I tell you about—”
“My apologies, Herr Bergheim. I suppose I wasn’t raised any better,” Sybil said sweetly.
Johannes shrugged and nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”
The young nobleman suddenly stared at Sybil with a strange look. He motioned toward another table. “Come now, let’s get some drink in you. I know there’s got to be a vacant room somewhere in this ugly excuse for a castle.”
Sybil felt a lump in her throat, and her heart started thumping. A . . . vacant room? A sheen of sweat started to soak her forehead, and her eyes darted around the ballroom. She caught the eyes of the menacing black wolf, which seemed to be staring into her soul.
The musicians started playing, people started dancing, and everything started moving fast and became overwhelming to Sybil all at once. Flustered, she refused to move to the wine table. Her feet were like bricks. “Uhh, ooh—”
“What in God’s name are you trying to say?” Johannes asked, eyeing her with disgust. “You look like you’re going to be sick. If you are, don’t make a scene in here.”
“My apologies, sir. G-give me a moment, please. It’s nothing, really. I’ll just be a moment.”
“I’ll come with you,” Johannes said.
“No!” Sybil said, a bit too loudly. “I mean, d-don’t bother, Herr Bergheim. You wouldn’t want to be seen chasing after a girl like me, would you? It would seem presumptuous and pitiful, right?”
Johannes mulled that over. “Well, I suppose you’re—”
Before he could finish his sentence, Sybil was sprinting out of the room, down the hallway. She reached the front gate of the castle and burst outside, her heart still reeling. She ran to the nearest carriage and jumped inside. A nobleman was kissing and groping a young woman, and the two giggled incessantly.
The nobleman stopped and grinned at Sybil. “I didn’t think I’d get lucky twice tonight,” he said, and Sybil yelped and leaped out of the carriage. Her gown caught on a hinge, tore, and she tripped and tumbled to the muddy ground.
She grabbed her torn dress by its hem and helped herself up. All around her were bright lights and bright colors and clothing and people she didn’t recognize and her head and heart pounded and her eyes grew misty and she felt the urge to start bawling. She stumbled to another carriage, crawled in, and shouted to the coachman, “Please, get me out of here, sir!”
“Miss, are you all right? Where to, my lady?”
“Out! Please—just go south!”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
HEINRICH
On the day of Bertrude Achterberg’s execution, Investigator Franz rode through the western gates of Cologne with Tomas and an entourage of five guards. He was still fuming at that damnable little man, Lord Werner, for not giving him his deserved recognition for arresting Bertrude a week earlier.
Gazing around, Heinrich noticed that Cologne hadn’t changed much in the years since he’d last been. The city was still a sprawling metropolis with large stone walls to keep out intruders, and buildings and towers many times the size of any in Bedburg. The city was the capital of the region, and it housed more churches than any other city within fifty miles. The Rhine cut through its center, creating a seaside highway that made Cologne the main trading hub of western Germany.
Where Bedburg was rural and filled with uneducated peasants, Cologne was an enlightened, suburban city of scholars, royalty, and tradesfolk. The city was the the center of civility, and it held a great deal of power within the Holy Roman Empire.
Currently, Ernst of Bavaria was the elector and archbishop of Cologne, to the pleasure of Catholics—the majority—and to the chagrin of reformers. Politicians and wise men thought that Ernst was a placeholder and figurehead without much acumen or military power. But the pope supported him, and that gave Ernst immeasurable influence amongst the citizens.
Heinrich’s meeting with the archbishop was delayed for a few hours while he waited in Cologne Castle. He sat in a plush foyer, annoyed at having to wait, and looked at the gold-plated columns and priceless paintings in the room.
Staring at a particular painting that depicted an age-old battlefield, Heinrich’s thoughts began to wander. He thought of the political, religious, and military turmoil of recent years that made Cologne such a historically important city within the Empire.
Until recently, the city was a haven for Protestants. The bloody Cologne War, which ravaged the towns and peoples of both faiths over the past five years, changed all of that.
Even though it was widely believed that the war was coming to an end, Heinrich wasn’t so sure.
Like so many wars, Cologne’s began because of a woman. But while a woman was the root cause of the conflict, power was the obvious motive.
The city-state of Cologne was one of the seven electorates of the Holy Roman Empire. The leaders of the electorates, called the prince-electors, were responsible for choosing the emperor. Therefore, whichever religious faction controlled the greater portion of the seven electoral seats theoretically controlled the fate of the Empire itself.
Pope Gregory XIII did not favor this balance of power.
It was common knowledge that many electors, both Protestant and Catholic, were bribed to take office in order to control elections. Prior to the Cologne War, which began in 1583, Catholics controlled four seats, a majority. These electorates were the ecclesiastical states of Cologne, Trier, Mainz, and the seat of the Holy Roman Emperor, Rudolf II of Bohemia.
When Cologne’s elector and archbishop, Count Salentin, died in 1577, the power of the Catholic Church was left hanging in the balance. Ernst of Bavaria was put up for election, but many Catholic leaders were skeptical of his ability to counter the growing Reformation. So the electorate chose a different Catholic, Count Gebhard Truchsess von Waldburg, to be Count Salentin’s heir.
Catholics again controlled four of the seven electoral seats, but their celebration was short lived. Count Gebhard fell in love with a woman, Agnes von Mansfeld, who was a Protestant canoness. She held influence over the reformers, and quickly gained influence over Gebhard.
The church realized their dire mistake when Gebhard announced his conversion to Calvinism, a Protestant faction, in 1582. Archbishop Gebhard married Agnes in 1583 and pushed the Reformation on the city-state of Cologne.
Under his rule, Gebhard established parity for Calvinists in the archdiocese, and the pope demanded his immediate resignation. Gebhard would not uphold the law, which had been established thirty years prior during the Peace of Augsburg. The law stated that if a Catholic elector converted to Protestantism while on the seat, rather than forcing his subjects to convert, the ruler would resign from his position and be replaced by a Catholic.
Needless to say, Protestants didn’t enjoy this law.
Instead of adhering to the Peace, Gebhard pushed Calvinism even further. His election made the electorate a Protestant majority. In 1583, Pope Gregory XIII deposed and excommunicated Gebhard, but the pope died two years later, and Gebhard continued ruling and converting the people of Cologne. Alongside Agnes, Gebhard sought to turn the Holy Roman Empire from an electorate, into a dynastic duchy. He wanted Protestant leaders to rule for generations to come.
Crisis erupted within the Empire. The church chose Ernst of Bavaria—the same man once refused for his apparent lack of ability—to be the new Catholic elector.
Thus, with two competing archbishops vying for the same seat, the Cologne War began. And with it came wanton destruction, pillaging, plundering, and economic disaster for the principality.
Heinrich shook his head and scoffed at the irony that these two “peaceful” sects would go to such destructive lengths for control.
Recently, after five years of chaos and ruin, Archbishop Ernst began to see things sway in favor of the Catholics. It was still obvious to Heinrich, though, that both Ernst and Gebhard were simply puppet-leaders bankrolled by higher powers that had vested interests in the outcome of the war.
On the Protestant side, those higher powers were Queen Elizabeth of England, Henry III of France, and the Dutch prince, Maurice of Nassau. For the Catholics, the pope sent Spanish troops, as well as Italian and Bavarian mercenaries. Together, both sides desecrated the countryside around Cologne. And now Heinrich was forced to walk into the belly of the beast to speak with Archbishop Ernst, a man he hadn’t seen in quite some time.
“Lord?” a voice called out.
Heinrich snapped out of his reminiscence and looked up at a young, well-dressed courier standing before him.
“The archbishop will see you now,” the man said with a bow.
Heinrich jumped up from his plush seat and followed the man down a hallway. Tomas began to follow, but Heinrich held out a hand to stay the soldier.
The courier led Heinrich down a marble-tiled corridor, to a large door protected by two spearmen. One of the guards opened the door, and the courier led Heinrich into the room. It was a vast, brightly-colored chamber with stained-glass windows built high on the walls. Curtains were pulled open and bright rays of sunlight splashed into the room, forming a rainbow of dancing colors on the floor.
“My lord, your guest, Heinrich Franz,” the courier said. He disappeared back through the doorway.
“Ah, Investigator Franz, in the flesh,” the archbishop said from the other end of the room. His back was turned, but then he spun around and faced Heinrich. He was a tall, stiff man with a pointed beard and short-cropped hair. He wore a lavish tunic, but looked more like a soldier than an archbishop.
“My lord,” Heinrich said with a low bow.
“I trust your stay in Cologne has been well?”
“I’ve only just arrived, my lord.” Heinrich walked to a small table that separated him from the archbishop, but continued to stand.
“I hope you’ll stay for a while. I’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”
Heinrich shook his head. “I’m afraid not, my lord. There are pressing matters to take care of in Bedburg. A killer is still on the loose.”
“I’ve heard,” Ernst said. “But I’ve also heard that a woman has been tried and executed for the murders, just recently?”
If you’ve heard so much, then why am I here? Heinrich thought. “Yes,” he said, “it’s true that we’ve uncovered a witch in town, but I don’t believe she’s responsible for all the killings. I do believe she had some connection with the case, however.”
Ernst smiled. “My tireless investigator,” he said, folding his hands behind his back. “I’m assuming you wish to know why I’ve called you here, Herr Franz.”
Heinrich nodded. “Not to question your decision, my lord, but I did find it strange for you to send me to ‘escort’ one of your priests back to Bedburg. I find that others may have been more suitable to the task.”
Ernst offhandedly waved the investigator away. He pulled a chair from the small table, sat, and motioned for Heinrich to do the same. “Of course there are, Heinrich. I chose the word escort to keep your visit vague. After all, we do want to keep the truth of your employment under lock and key, correct?”
Heinrich sat and put his hands palm-down on the table. “Indeed, my lord. What is it you would have me do?”
“I will have you return with one of my finest priests and advisers. He is a Jesuit missionary named Balthasar Schreib, and he is to be my . . . religious ear, in Bedburg. I’ve noticed that Lord Werner and Bishop Solomon are inadequate converters, and Balthasar is not.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
“I also wanted to hear your side of things, in person, from a secular point of view. I have many ears and eyes in Bedburg, but none that I trust as much as yours.”
Heinrich bowed his head and said, “You flatter me, my lord. Do you wish to know about the investigation?”
Ernst scrunched his nose. “No, no, nothing as mundane as that, Heinrich.” Then he stared straight at the investigator with piercing, blue eyes. “I would like to know what you’re doing partnering with Georg Sieghart the Savage, and what he’s doing in Bedburg in the first place.”
Heinrich twitched, just slightly, but the archbishop must have noticed, because he smiled and said, “Eyes and ears everywhere, my friend.”
Heinrich coughed into his hand. “Firstly, my lord, I wouldn’t say I’m partnering with him. I’m using him as a liaison with the locals, for reconnaissance during my investigation. He is a worthwhile tracker, and quite adept at gathering information.”
“What do you know of his past, Franz?”
“I know he fought under the Duke of Parma, Alexander Farnese, against the Dutch. Then he defected, and his family was killed. I’m not sure about the order of those last two—”
“Georg Sieghart did not defect from the army, Heinrich. He was released. Do you know how he gained the name Sieghart the Savage?” The archbishop did not wait for a response. “He was a madman on and off the battlefield, and the same monster that you’re searching for killed his family. He is a loose cannon, and if you’re going to associate with him, be sure not to flap away any of our secrets. He is not a lawman, remember.”
Heinrich nodded. “Of course, my lord. I would never betray any secrets or tell him anything of importance. He is a simple man.”
“That may be true, but I have my eyes on him, and you’d be smart to do the same.”
After a brief pause, Archbishop Ernst put his hands on the table and looked away from Heinrich. “What else can you tell me about the state of Bedburg? How do the conversions fair? The Protestant rebellion?”
Heinrich sighed. “I fear you are right, that the Lutherans and Calvinists are growing stronger, and possibly joining forces to combat their common enemy, if you will. Recently, a pastor began preaching in town, right next to the town church. He has the ears of many disgruntled citizens, and he’s been unfazed by any chastisement.”
“That is disturbing indeed,” Ernst said. He started pulling at his pointed beard. “That’s one of the reasons I’ve ordered Balthasar to Bedburg. What about Lord Werner and Bishop Solomon—what can you tell me of them?”
Heinrich breathed heavily and shook his head. “If I am being honest, my lord, you were right about them as well. Lord Werner is a petty, fickle man. He is weak-willed, not emphatic at persecuting the Protestants, or even in his conversion efforts. He has trouble simply holding his position.
“Bishop Solomon, meanwhile, is the most ardent Catholic in town, but he is old, and the young man who might someday take his place is a conflicted priest in his own right.”
The archbishop drummed his fingers on the table and nodded. “I’ve thought the same about Lord Werner,” he said at last. “I should have never elected him. And Bishop Solomon, well, he’s a radical without any real power.” Ernst pointed at Heinrich. “There is something you need to know, Herr Franz. Pockets of Protestant rebels are forming all over the southern and northern regions of the principality, and I fear it is only a matter of time before Gebhard tries to retake the electoral seat. If—or when—he does, it will most likely begin with Bedburg. He will want to set up operations close to Cologne. We absolutely cannot allow the rebels to meet with any fringe sects that might be developing in and around Bedburg. If the Lutherans and Calv
inists create communications with each other, that could be catastrophic.”
Heinrich slowly nodded and twisted his mustache, confused as to what he was supposed to do about any of that.
The archbishop’s face gained a sudden hardness, and his eyes narrowed on the investigator. “Don’t forget why I sent you to Bedburg in the first place, Heinrich. Before I will give you what you want, you must give me what I need.”
“Of course, my lord,” Heinrich said. “I am trying to orchestrate my investigation as quickly as possible. I will stop the uprising by bringing the Werewolf of Bedburg to justice.”
“Do that,” Ernst said, “and I will give you your just reward.”
The hardness vanished from the archbishop’s face, and he clapped and smiled. “Enough of this talk, though. Are you sure you won’t stay in Cologne for a bit? There’s a new play in town, I believe penned by the playwright Thomas Kyd . . . The Spanish Tragedy, I believe it’s called. Kyd is an English bastard, but it’s quite an exquisite play! The Spanish Armada’s defeat this year apparently brought a great inspiration to the arts.”
Heinrich scratched one of his ears. “I am not a connoisseur of the arts, my lord. And I really should be getting back to Bedburg.”
The archbishop frowned, and he looked somewhat offended. “Well, my tireless investigator, that is fine. But you will sup with me tonight, and in the morning you shall be introduced to Balthasar Schreib. Then you may return to your town.”
The archbishop stood from his chair and slowly walked around the table. “Were your travels here uneventful?”
“Indeed,” Heinrich said.
“That is good, but just be careful of bandits on the road back. It seems vagabonds are sprouting up everywhere these days.”
“I appreciate your concern, my lord,” Heinrich said with a bow.
Ernst chuckled. “My concern is with Balthasar, Heinrich. I don’t want to lose my prized priest before he gets a chance to do his work.”
