“You’re an amazing woman, Greta Schaefer,” Ella said. “A resourceful and amazing woman.”
“I would say I am a lucky woman,” Greta said, putting the knife down. “A woman who has heard and seen God’s will too many times to doubt it, especially as it is manifested in my own life. You are ready, Ella. You look as much like a ragged peasant boy as it is in my power to make you. If you don’t speak, you will fool them.”
Ella reached out and took Greta’s hand and squeezed it.
“You were an answer to prayer, yourself,” Ella said. “The convent couldn’t have done any better than to have you take over.”
“I hope so.” Greta smiled. “I pray so.”
The two left the convent and walked down the lane to the pub. Ella knew Rowan could see them from the other side of the stonewall in the garden, but she dared not look at him in case someone was watching. The game was on and she needed to play her part perfectly.
She succeeded in staying mute during the interview at the pub and tried to look as confused as possible, which was not difficult, given the circumstances. When the castle contact finished speaking with Greta, he grabbed Ella roughly by the collar and led her away. Ella did not look back as she was hauled off but she found herself having serious second thoughts about this part of the plan.
Rowan worked in the garden for most of the morning. He cursed himself for allowing Ella to talk him into this crazy idea. She was so caught up in saving the convent and maybe wanting to be a spy like her mother that she had lost all common sense. He looked around the garden and leaned on the hoe. He had long since stopped asking himself how this had happened. He knew he was the kind of guy who didn’t care how things worked, just that they did.
The situation he had to accept right now was that he had let Ella dress up like a boy so that she could get inside a seventeenth century castle and spy on people who were able to kill and torture without concern for right or wrong. It was worse than dealing with the mob. At least the mob had some respect for the feds and needed to work around them.
He stared up at the castle. From here, he could just see the faint outline of its upper most walls. Was she in? Were they buying it? Would he ever fucking see her again?
Several hours later, just when he didn’t think he could take another minute of not knowing what was going on, one of the novices came to the garden and waved to him to come into the convent. Hoping that meant Ella was back, Rowan dropped his hoe and came at a run.
She sat in the kitchen on a stool, talking with Greta. Her back was turned to him.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said as he entered the room.
“Well, not so much,” she said as she turned to face him. He could see she had a fat lip and a bloody nose.
“Son of a bitch!” Rowan said.
“I think I suitably impressed them with my credentials,” she lisped through her swollen lip.
“The head groomsman did this to you?”
“It appears to be part of the hiring process,” Ella said. She winced as Rowan touched her battered face.
“It is a rough world in 1620,” Greta said.
“No shit,” Rowan said. “Imagine if they’d decided you weren’t right for the job.”
Hans Krüger sat at his desk and stared at the fat oaf who stood before him. Mayer had ushered him in only minutes before. Usually Mayer left the room in order that his lord could deal with any miscreants as he saw fit without concern that Mayer could testify that a crime had been committed. But today, Krüger suspected Mayer had left to escape the man’s foul stench. Besides, if Krüger wanted to murder this disgusting excuse of skin-stretched blubber, he could do it in the town square with his bare hands for no reason at all and there would be no consequences. He began to wonder about Mayer’s ability to handle his position.
The fat slob had been instructed not to speak until his lord addressed him. Krüger used this as an opportunity to determine if the lout was a veteran liar—something which he, Krüger was able to determine by mere observation—and, ultimately, if he could be useful in future or would lose his worthless life before lunch. The man stood, his double chin vibrating as if he were hopping in place. It was Krüger’s experience that overt displays of nervousness usually meant there was truth to be found in a man’s words. Liars were smooth. Liars did not sweat. The process of misleading was a practiced art that only the devious and nimble of mind accomplished with ease. This man, his fear redolent and rolling off him in waves, may not be an honest man in his other dealings, but Krüger believed he would tell the truth about why he had been brought to the castle today.
“Speak,” Krüger said. “You saw something strange by the convent today I am told?”
“Yes, milord,” the toad squeaked.
“What was it that you saw, my good man?”
“The new gardener at the convent, milord,” the man said, licking his lips as he spoke. “He speaks a language no one has ever heard before.”
“So he is a foreigner. What is strange about that?”
The man clasped his hands to his fat chin as if afraid he was not giving the right answers to some predetermined examination. Krüger had half a mind to execute Mayer for bringing him this useless parasite.
“They say he is a simpleton,” the man said, huge rivulets of sweat creasing down his fat face. “But he sleeps and takes his meals inside the convent.”
Krüger abruptly checked his sneering response to the man.
“He sleeps inside the convent, you say?”
“Yes.”
“You have seen this or just heard?”
“Both, milord,” the man said.
Krüger looked out the window in the direction of the convent.
“That is indeed odd,” he said.
Rowan stood next to their bed where he had spread out the items they would need for their plan to work. He stood looking down at the straw-stuffed woolen comforter upon which he had laid Ella’s cell phone, his lighter, the block of C-4 and the tangle of blasting caps.
“If you’re caught with any of this stuff, they’ll arrest you as a witch,” he said. “But especially your phone.”
“I know.”
“I hate you doing this.”
Ella sat on the edge of the bed. She held his hand to her cheek and looked into his eyes. “I know,” she said.
“You don’t have to plant the lighter in Axel’s bedroom. It’s too dangerous.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Jesus.”
“If you can start exploding things at exactly noon, Rowan, I’ll be ready to go. I’ll be moving in the opposite direction of everyone else. In the panic, no one will see me.” She stood up and pulled off her stable boy clothes which she kicked into a pile in the corner of the room.
“Do you really know how to make a bomb?” he asked as he watched her.
Ella shook her head and pulled a nightgown over her head.
“Then how did you—”
“Look, Rowan, I went out with a guy from work, okay? And he thought it’d impress me that he was qualified to handle C4. So he brought some over.”
“Sounds like a moron. He was in your apartment?”
“Rowan, nothing happened. I was just feeling lonely one night.”
“None of my business.”
“We don’t have time to get into this. Just tell me where and when so I can use every minute of the window you give me.”
“It wasn’t that idiot, Hugo, was it?”
Ella looked at him in horror. “How do you know Hugo?”
“I told you, I talked to some people at your office when I was trying to find you.”
“And you talked to Hugo?”
“In a manner of speaking.” He stared at the block of C4.
“Just jam the blasting cap into it,” Ella said. “And then mold it or stuff it into something.” She held up a handful of the blasting caps with their fuses dangling. “And make sure you’ve got the book matches handy.”
Rowan said nothi
ng.
“You’re pouting.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. If you say nothing happened, I believe you. Besides, we didn’t have an understanding or anything. You were free to do as you like.”
“Exactly. It was precisely because I was free to do as I like,” Ella said, “that I was able to realize that I didn’t want to be with anyone but you. Satisfied?”
He did not respond but she could tell he was pleased.
“And yourself?” she said. “Were you a little angel when all communications ceased?”
“I was, actually,” Rowan said. “I came close one time but, in the end, my heart wasn’t in it.”
Ella sat down next to him. “If I’ve learned anything from all this,” she said, “I’ve learned that that is what it all comes down to.”
Rowan looked at her. A smile edged at his lips.
“Not only does your heart know,” she continued, “but sometimes it knows before you do.”
“Speak for yourself,” he said, leaning over to kiss her. “I always knew.”
That night, Rowan was particularly gentle with Ella to the point where she complained.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he insisted.
“I want to feel like I’m being kissed, Rowan,” she said. “Even if it hurts.”
“I hate you having to go back there tomorrow.”
“I know. And I hate the idea of you setting off a damn bomb.”
“These monks that Greta is having write the anonymous letter to the Protestant Magistrate…she trusts them?”
“Jeez, Rowan, they’re monks.”
“What, you never heard of double-dealing, low-down monks before? Won’t they wonder why she’s asking them to set up Axel?”
“She has a relationship with them. Besides, they hate Axel. He destroyed their monastery.”
They were quiet for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts.
Ella laughed. “Can you even believe we’re doing any of this?”
He kissed her tenderly. “I can hardly believe we’re together,” he said.
“I never should have taken the job in Germany.”
“Guess you felt like you had to.”
“It was so stupid. What I can’t believe is I got a second chance with you.”
“Are you kidding?” He pulled her close to him and tucked her against his chest. “There was no way I was letting you go.”
Before they drifted off to sleep, Rowan murmured to her, his eyes closed: “What did you tell Greta to put in the letter?”
“The usual,” Ella yawned. “That he drinks human blood and can make fire come out his fingers.”
“That’s good. G’nite, beautiful.”
Ella was up early the next morning. She was too nervous to eat much breakfast but stuffed a heel of bread in the baggy pocket of her raggedy pants. It was still dark out when she stole out of the convent and walked down the lane leading to the Altstadt on the way to the castle. She and Rowan had said their goodbyes from the confines of their narrow bed. But because Rowan was clearly building up a head of steam fretting, she left while he was in the garden relieving himself. She knew he’d be furious, but there didn’t seem to be any point in delaying and all his worry and urgings and be safes were just making her more nervous. They’d gone over it a hundred times. There was nothing else to gain by drawing out the departure.
Greta was up and Ella gave her a quick wave before shutting the door to the kitchen. Greta’s job today was less dangerous but no less important. She had to set the monks to recreating Axel’s birth certificate.
Rowan’s job was to avoid attention while setting the explosive charge under the drawbridge of the castle. The explosion needed to be big enough to cause chaos within the castle, but not so big that Rowan himself was captured or, God forbid, blown up in the process.
As she walked, Ella put thoughts of Rowan and Greta aside. There was no point in worrying about their days. She had all she could handle with her own monumental task. Even with the evidence written in bruises on her face, Ella hadn’t told Rowan and Greta the whole truth about yesterday in the castle. She had been beaten almost as soon as she set foot in the stable. The other stable boys regarded her as an interloper. And because she was mute, they saw her as a natural victim.
God, this place is fucked up, Ella found herself thinking. After nodding at the guards standing at the base of the castle gate, she trotted to the darkened stable yard in the forecourt of the castle. She snuck into the first stall. The boys were sleeping on the floor like a litter of puppies. The straw was filthy and so were they. Ella held her nose and stepped quietly around them.
When she reached the other side of the stall, she sat down to wait for them to wake up. As soon as she heard the stable master moving about the stable, she stood up and kicked one of the nearest boys.
She hoped Rowan would be able to set the charge early according to plan. She was aching to get into the castle. She felt for the cellphone in her inside trouser pocket.
“What’re you lookin’ at, pisser?” One of the boys snarled at her and she fought to keep her face impassive as visions of five minutes with him and her Taser passed through her mind.
The stable master appeared in the doorway. He was large and ruddy with short legs, a barrel chest and a bull neck. He had a cruel look in his eye and a scar that ran the length of his face from his eyebrow to his jawline. From the way he treated the boys, Ella was pretty sure he was a card-carrying pederast. She could not imagine how he ended up working with horses unless torturing smaller animals had become boring for him. He caught her eye and smiled his toothless, wicked smile like he wanted to eat her for breakfast.
Come on, Rowan, blow something up any time now…
The stable master beckoned to her with a fat curled finger and she pushed off the wooden stall wall toward him. When she got to him, he smashed her hard in the stomach with the wooden bucket he had been holding behind his back. The other boys instantly began to laugh.
In the process of trying to protect herself from the bucket, Ella smashed one of her fingers. She succeeded in not falling down, which she had a feeling would not have ended well for her. Her finger throbbed painfully as she clutched the heavy bucket and prayed the finger wasn’t broken.
“Fill it,” he said, “and get ‘em watered.” Then he turned from her and focused on the other boys. Ella bolted from the stall as soon as the man shifted his bulk enough to allow her to squeeze past. She could barely lift the bucket empty and had no idea how she was going to manage it full of water. But she decided to take her problems one step at a time. Getting away from the stable master seemed a top priority at the moment.
Once out of the stall, Ella looked around to see what might be the best way to get inside the castle. The stalls lined a small courtyard which faced a broad cobblestone walkway that wound up the hill to the castle. She had no idea where Axel or Krüger’s rooms were. But it was a safe bet they weren’t on the ground floor or within easy running distance from the stables. She looked toward town to see if she could possibly see Rowan but she realized it wouldn’t bode well if she could. She walked over to the water trough to fill the bucket. She could hear the horses nicker in their stalls, the same stalls she would be clearing out before the day was done with her bare hands if, like yesterday, the other boys commandeered all the shovels and pitchforks. By the time the boys emerged from the stall, she had succeeded in filling the bucket. Even though she was taller than any of them, she feared them. They were rough and hard. They reminded her of Fagin’s gang: poor, cunning and desperate. She learned that the stupid ones were the most dangerous. But all the boys were to be avoided.
With a strength she didn’t know she possessed, Ella filled and dragged the heavy water bucket to the horses. She filled each of their ten water reservoirs. When she finished, it probably wasn’t eight in the morning yet but she was already so tired she could barely walk. Her arms trembled as she set the empty bucket down in the dirt with a heavy thud. Like her
, the other boys had been too busy to pay attention to anything other than the chore in front of them. Now, she looked around to see where they were. The stable master was not visible, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there watching her.
She wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. Now what? The last thing she wanted to do was ask for instructions. But she didn’t want to be caught doing nothing either. Why hadn’t the charge gone off? Had Rowan been caught? She looked at the open bloody blisters on her hands and was in the process of turning toward the main stable to find the stable master when the first blast sounded in the distance.
When it finally happened, a combination of exhaustion and heightened anticipation momentarily immobilized her. As soon as the other boys dropped their tools and began to run around the courtyard, Ella headed for the side of the barn as she had planned to do all morning. She ran up the winding stone pathway. A man with wild eyes came toward her from the castle but ran past without a glance. She looked over her shoulder to see that pandemonium had broken out in the stables. One of the boys, presumably trying to save the horses, had opened the stalls doors. A dozen horses were charging around the courtyard screaming, the whites of their eyes showing in their panic.
Ella entered the castle. In her experience, even if a person didn’t look like they belonged, if they acted with conviction and purpose, people tended to accept their presence as reasonable. Once inside, she could see that the main hall was straight ahead, the dining hall to the left, and the long stone stairway to the upper rooms on her right. The narrow steps were steep and slick with years of wear. Angry voices and panicked cries came from the main hall. She hesitated. She wasn’t sure she had allowed enough time for the upstairs to vacate and she sure as hell didn’t want to meet anyone on her way up.
She slid behind a ten-foot tall stone vase at the base of the stairs and watched the activity for a moment. Five people came down—mostly servants and a few wealthy landowner types—and ran out the door. When the hall was clear, she moved quickly up the steps, taking them two at a time. She slipped but caught herself on the last step. She was breathing heavily from the climb and her own fear. She stopped to listen for anyone in the hall. Deciding it was now or never, she ran past a set of open doors toward the far end of the hall, where she expected to find Küger’s room. Most of the doors were open and she looked in them as she ran, praying no one was inside to see her.
Heidelberg Effect Page 17
