The Witch of Cologne

‘Believe it. I have written authority.’

Von Fürstenberg pulls out a long clay pipe and packs it with tobacco. Reaching across he takes his light from a candle and sucks in deeply. Exhaling, he covers the Spaniard with a cloud of smoke.

‘As in French draughts, I have always believed in attacking one’s enemy from several angles. I had thought our best tactic to be a charge of immoral conduct.’

Carlos looks surprised.

‘I have strong evidence that von Tennen has been engaged in an improper liaison for many years with one of his congregation, Birgit Ter Lahn von Lennep. Of late they have argued. Seeking to exploit the anger of a wronged woman I sought her out. Alas, she was most fixed in her opinions. I had all but despaired until my invaluable servant Georges presented me with the following information.’

The spy clears his throat then spits into the corner of the room.

‘I have been following the good canon for several days now and found nothing of undue concern whatsoever on which to pin any charge of immoral or lewd conduct, sire. So being somewhat at a loss I decided to use my head and look to the recent past, as it were, namely his relationships. Upon hearing about his protection of the Jewess, I thought naturally I should travel over to the right bank and visit the ghetto of Deutz—what’s left of it, that is. There, having disguised myself as a Hebrew and claiming I was from Buda and therefore spoke only bad German, I heard a most peculiar story. That at the time of the Schülergeleif several houses, including that of the midwife’s father, the rabbi, were burnt and the occupants with them. But the midwife’s cottage was untouched and although she has not been seen since, her body was never found. Leading me to the conclusion that perhaps our canon could be harbouring the witch. Find her with him and you’ve got yourself a right proper trial and an execution which will be very popular with King Mob.’

‘Do you think he has lain with her?’ Excited by the thought Carlos feels his scar begin its telltale throb.

‘Even if he hasn’t it would be easy to invent such a notion. Just leave it to me, sire. All we have to do is catch them in the same place at the same time,’ the spy concludes with a crooked grin.

Von Fürstenberg finishes his clay pipe and knocks the bowl clean. Glowing ash spills onto the marble tabletop.

‘The canon has recently been leaving the city far more regularly than before. Initially I had assumed this was because of concern for his brother, the count, during the plague; now I have my doubts.’

‘I have with me my secretary Juan and an alguacil. I also have ten soldiers of the emperor’s army. I am sure Count von Tennen will be most hospitable should we decide to visit.’ Carlos smiles for the first time that day.

A young serving wench peeps around the curtain and gestures to the minister. With his permission she enters and whispers into his ear.

‘Excuse me, gentlemen, but I believe we may have a surprising ally.’

A minute later Birgit Ter Lahn von Lennep is ushered in. Dressed like any common bürger’s wife, she is wearing the traditional Cologne hat with its distinctive protruding stem and a ribboned bauble on the end. From the brim streams a dark blue veil, covering a ruffled white collar and black bodice. After curtsying she holds out her hand; von Fürstenberg kisses it greedily.

‘A surprising honour, Madame. Pray join us.’

Flustered, her cape wet from the rain, Birgit sits. Nauseous with misgiving, she can hardly stop herself gagging at the strong smell of the stimulant the wench brings to her.

‘The Countess von Marck told me where I might find you but not before some explanation. She is a good friend indeed, Herr von Fürstenberg.’

‘I would trust her with my life, as indeed on some occasions I have. I assume you have had a change of heart, Madame? The moral path manifests slowly but, thank the good Lord, it always prevails.’

Birgit plays with a lace handkerchief tucked into her waist. Now she is actually there, sitting before the enemy of the man she still loves but has also begun to hate, she finds herself caught in an internal struggle as loyalty and affection conflict with fury. Should she betray Detlef? It will mean losing him for ever, and there still remains somewhere deep within her a stubborn belief in a future together. Can she be untrue to their ardour, even if for him it no longer exists? These and other darker thoughts swirl through her mind like the cream in her coffee: Detlef’s face at the guild dance, closed and indifferent, telling her that their affair had merely been a game to him, seems to stare up from the bowl of pale liquid. The memory of his indescribable cruelty at that moment propels her to speak. But then she hesitates, still reluctant to surrender the hope of reconciliation.

Frustrated by her reticence, the minister leans forward.

‘He has wronged you, Madame, both as a man and a confessor. I have reason to believe that he is sheltering the midwife…’

The logic of von Fürstenberg’s statement hits Birgit like a hammer. Suddenly jigsaw pieces of Detlef’s behaviour slot into one another to create a complete puzzle-picture which horrifies her in its clarity: his first distraction, his morality…How could he have risked so much for an insignificant Jewess, Birgit wonders, surmising that the midwife’s persecution must have awoken the idealist within him.

‘You lie.’ She tries unsuccessfully to control the anger in her voice.

Von Fürstenberg, sensing that he has secured his prey, takes her arm eagerly.

‘Madame, he shelters her at this very moment at the estate of his brother.’

‘No, it would not be at Das Grüntal, but somewhere nearby. A place I know well…’

‘Then you will assist us?’

Birgit nods, trying to hide her tears behind a stiff dignity. But already the men have begun to whisper amongst themselves.

As they continue their strategising, Birgit gazes into the grains of black coffee at the bottom of her cup, despairing at the thought of what her life holds without Detlef.