Morbus Dei: The Sign of Aries. Matthias Bauer

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      Wolff glanced at Tepser but the latter’s face was expressionless. Wolff nodded.

      ‘And are you willing to swear that on the Bible?’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      Sovino looked satisfied.

      ‘Only I would like to know beforehand,’ added Wolff firmly, ‘what it is exactly that I am swearing to.’

      Tepser banged his palm down on the table. ‘How dare you have the audacity to ask such a question! You’re here to carry out orders, not–’

      ‘Please, Mr Mayor,’ said Sovino, trying to smooth things over. ‘I would much rather have a loyal man who can think for himself than a witless underling who is thrown by the slightest difficulty.’

      Wolff looked sharply at Sovino. He knew his type. Under the cloak of benevolence, he would stop at nothing.

      ‘A French secret envoy by the name of François Antoine Gamelin has smuggled sick people out of the quarantine district to use them to his own advantage and that of the French realm,’ said Sovino, lowering his voice. ‘Let me be frank: it’s no secret that the Holy Father supports King Ludwig XIV for having helped his grandson, Philipp V. von Bourbon, accede to the Spanish throne. But the damage that might done to the Roman Empire if Gamelin’s plan succeeds is incalculable. And that’s something the Holy Father simply cannot sanction.’

      Tepser nodded with feigned sympathy but Wolff’s face was stony.

      Sovino continued: ‘Gamelin is riding southwards at this moment with a handful of mercenaries. Overtake him and kill him and all his–freight.’

      ‘The Frenchman by all means, but tell me, haven’t we already freed enough sick from their suffering?’ asked Wolff, pointedly.

      ‘Indeed, but who knows who they might infect!’ said Sovino, going towards the window and gazing out. ‘It would simply be too bad if we had to shut down every house of pleasure in Vienna for everyone knows that they’re hives of the most appalling diseases. As a preventative measure, you understand.’

      Wolff understood only too well. He grinned cynically and saluted the Mayor and Sovino.

      ‘I want you to put together a group of a dozen or so trusty men to ride with you. You’ll be given further instructions tomorrow morning before you decamp,’ added Sovino, not turning away from the window.

      With that Wolff was dismissed. He walked out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar, but instead of walking away he remained behind it and, seeing there was no guard around, bent his head and listened.

      ‘May I ask why you don’t settle the matter yourself?’ Tepser asked Sovino.

      ‘That’s not something that need concern you. My instructions are of a quite different nature,’ retorted Sovino, in a slightly irritated tone.

      He began to elaborate and what Wolff now overheard was most disconcerting and confirmed his first impressions of Sovino.

      Suddenly footsteps echoed down the corridor. Wolff darted away from the door and walked off as two men from the Black Guard came towards him. Ignoring their greeting, he passed quickly by.

      XI

      Gamelin was dozing when he suddenly woke with a start. The carriage had stopped without warning and he could hear shouts and the bleating of sheep.

      He opened the door and climbed down the two wrought-iron steps. The glare of the sunlight made him squint and he needed a moment before he could take in what was going on: up ahead was a flock of about three dozen sheep blocking the road and a farmer who was obviously in no hurry to herd them out of the way.

      A mercenary dismounted and went towards the farmer, his weapon at the ready. As if on command, the farmer started bawling madly at his sheep and whacking them on their hindquarters.

      Gamelin looked around. A few people had come out of the nearby cottages, curious to see what was going on, some appallingly ragged, others grossly disfigured and all of them filthy, he noticed. His displeasure grew as he saw one of them trying to peep behind the tarpaulin of one of the waggons before a violent kick from one of the guards sent him rocketing into the dirt.

      All at once it occurred to Gamelin that the further south they went along St James’s Way, the more attention they would attract. Rumours would start spreading and there would be more chance of their being stopped by an Austrian patrol.

      Behind them lay the plains sweeping towards Vienna and in front of them the densely forested massif of the Alps. It would cost them time, reflected Gamelin, but from now on they would keep off the beaten track whenever possible as they made their way over the Semmering.

      He motioned to the leader of the mercenaries and told him his thoughts. The latter nodded, spurred his horse and cut through the flock of bleating sheep like Moses through the Red Sea.

      Gamelin disappeared into his carriage and the convoy set off again. Four mercenaries hurriedly grabbed a sheep each–that would do nicely for their evening meal.