No matter what epoch you live in, if there is a chance that you might be interrogated by a hostile force intent on making you spill the beans, make sure your SERE (Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape) training is up to date and you have the required certificate and T-shirt, or in sixteenth century terms, an embossed doublet.
We left the smouldering, and in Jürgen’s case, still aflame, de Kveelders running from a magically blazing building and into the arms of some armed men who arrested them for loitering with intent and causing a public nuisance by being on fire. It was with some resignation that they conceded the game, set and match and as the well-known, but oft misquoted, Part 1 of Henry IVwould someday, in a different future, say, “the better part of valour is discretion”.
Hooded, bound and stored possibly in a cellar of a house, they sat in front of a man who called himself the Captain. They hadn’t been treated unpleasantly, as yet. Someone had even tried to salve Jürgen’s burn, but gave up muttering about magical fires resisting any sort of healing. Jürgen was just pleased they hadn’t tried to bleed him; it always made him feel a little faint.
Hans asked the Captain if he owned a ship but the Captain immediately set the boundaries of the conversation.
“I ask the questions and also make the jokes,” he said, “Your job is to answer the questions truthfully. The quality of your answers will depend on the type of death you face. It can be relatively painless and quick. Or, slow and torturous.”
“You’re not the first to threaten us with an ignominiousdeath, it’s a bit old hat for us,” said Hans, the would-be lawyer.
“I think being charged with Arson and burning down a third of Falsterbo as well as Criminal Damage, falsely importing goods and likely other misdemeanours and capital crimes as yet undisclosed will be enough to convict you in any Court. Now, what were you doing in that house that you set fire to?”
“We didn’t set fire to it, that was an accident and might have been a rat that did it, we were just getting more information on Stadtholder von Sennheim.”
“And why was that?”
“He’d set us an impossible task of making a suit of clothing for him within 4 weeks. He wanted it in black, and as I’m sure you know, the fixing of black dye is…”
“So, you are tailors?”
“No, we’re Journeymen Salt Merchants”
“Selling cloth? Is your Guild aware of this? Or more importantly the Cloth Guild?”
“We do it as an aside to make a bit of extra money in partnership with a friend, Freiherr von Steinburg, who is able to get such items at, err, a reduced cost.”
“So, why was it important to visit the house to get information on von Sennheim if you were making him a suit of clothes?”
“Actually, that was an excuse and as it happened a lucky break in getting that close to him. We are on an investigative mission as we believe von Sennheim is the man who killed our late Master and our father’s friend, Sülfmeister Memminger in Lübeck. It’s a matter of family and Guild honour.”
“This sounds like a story worth telling and perhaps nearer the truth, now under whose authority have you been acting?”
“Our Guild has given us permission to be in Falsterbo”
“I’m sure they have but that is a half-truth, and what of the letter you sent to the Lübeck Council? I have a copy of it here in case you’re curious how I know. I’ll ask again, under whose authority are you investigating von Sennheim?”
“We sent that letter to our Guild.”
“But it was forwarded by Meister Sommerveld to the Lübeck Council as a report. Who do you work for?”
“We are just Journeymen Salt Merchants working for our Guild.”
“I think you actually believe you are just ‘Journeymen’ but let’s leave that for now, I have no doubt it will come up again. What connection have you to Cornelius Agrippa? “
“We met him in Köln, he was our father’s doctor, and we believe he saved our father’s life when he had the Bloody Flux, unlike our uncle Issak, who sadly died of it. Have you heard my song, ‘The Bloody Flux’?
“My assistant, in preparing the intelligence report on you, has included a copy of the pfennig broadsheet. But what of Agrippa’s book, de Occulta Philosophia?”
“We think that Meister Memminger might have been murdered for the book, but we don’t know where it is now”
“It’s sitting in front of me, recovered from its hidden compartment in your rooms. I’ve only briefly leafed through it, but I’d guess that if it was closely studied that it will be declared forbidden knowledge and heretical. It is also likely that an owner of such a book might be convicted of practising Black Magic, and of Heresy. Both, as you are aware, are capital crimes.”
“Does Denmark have a fifth amendment?”
“No.“
“We kept the book to protect our late Meister’s reputation... and our father’s reputation. We did not want him being declared a heretic, even post-mortem.”
“Very thoughtful of you. I suppose you did not read any of it?”
“Absolutely not, we wanted to keep our immortal souls free of the pollution of black magic and heresy”
“And why did you think that von Sennheim wanted this book for, that you didn’t hand over to the authorities?”
“We believe he is an adept in Black Magic and was hoping to do something awful with the book.”
“I see, so you didn’t destroy this book which might have stopped him in his plans, and which is likely to cause pain and death to countless god-fearing people. Instead you copied out what seems to be an incantation to summon a demon. Why would that be?”
“We’d hoped to entice von Sennheim into a trap and then take him back to Lübeck to stand trial for the murder of our Meister.”
“Are you all stupid or just incredibly naïve? But I suppose you were hoping to sedate him with the Juice of Poppy?”
“The Poppy Juice was for my sore tooth, and we are very aware of how dangerous von Sennheim is. We have done our research, and we have personal experience of his powers.”
That’s not what the Alchemist, Keitel Njalsson, said. You led him to believe you were going to elope with that collaborator Göran Jonsson’s daughter. You said that the Juice of Poppy was to send him to sleep so you could elope with Elsbeth. I suppose your ‘tooth’ is better now since you haven’t complained of it in the two days you have been our guest. However, I am concerned that you had a dangerous spell that you were going to show to von Sennheim, and that spell could possibly be the one he is looking for. To me that smacks of amateurism.”
“My tooth was sore and we’re just Journeymen Salt Merchants. We weren’t actually intending to give von Sennheim the spell. It was a possible way to get him interested and on his own.”
“Oh yes, you’re ‘Journeymen’. And yet you tell me you’re used to people threatening you with unpleasant death. How is that?”
“It was last year. In Antwerpen. We were accused of murdering a Papal Legate.
We were supposed to be guarding him, got ambushed and he got shot. It wasn’t us, but we were arrested, escaped from prison where we were to be executed and found out who the murderers were.”
“Last year? Since this is your supposed ‘Journeyman’ year, that means you were ‘Apprentices’. Since when were Salt ‘Apprentice’ Merchants employed as bodyguards for a Papal Legate? This doesn’t make sense at all”
“We were travelling to see our sick father in Köln, got diverted from Rotterdam due to plague in the city and unfortunately arrived in Antwerpen. The Papal Legate was a passenger on the ship too. He offered us a job which had consequences that we didn’t foresee.”
“I see, but you already had a job as ‘apprentice’ Salt Merchants, and you were supposed to be travelling to your sick father. Why did you accept a job from the Legate? By the way, I don’t believe that you are really Salt Merchants at all, either ‘Apprentices’ or ‘Journeymen’. I’ll ask again, who are you working for and why are you investigating von Sennheim?”
“We needed money to continue our journey to our ailing father, the job with Legate was to get some money and he said he’d help us on our journey to Köln. As we said earlier, we work for our Guild, The Salt Merchants.”
“Humph. And I see you got commemoration medals form an Archbishop Barbosa, Prince-Bishop of Cambrai. I assume that was for finding out who killed the Legate. This is all very un-Salt Merchant behaviour.”
“Yes, his Eminence was grateful even though we exposed his cousin as the murderer and captured some of the henchmen. Sadly, his cousin escaped justice.
“That seems like a tale to tell sometime, if you live long enough. Now, what of the papers you took from von Sennheim’s house. What did you make of them?”
“We didn’t have time to read them before you invited us to your cellar. However, we did a quick perusal and were concerned about what we saw and brought them with us to see if we could make any sense of them.”
“I see, and why do ‘Journeymen’ get concerned with the actions of a Stadtholder of Denmark? It seems to me a little beyond your paygrade.”
“We are Journeymen and also Germans. The notebooks had several underlined references to the destruction of Lübeck and Danzig. That would concern any German merchant, particularly if the person underlying the threats had possibly the means to achieve the scheme.”
“Indeed. I have looked at the notebooks you took and cannot make much sense of them. The writing is small and crabbed and perhaps my knowledge of low German alchemy and demonology is not what it should be. However, it concerns me that the destruction of Lübeck and Danzig by a massive inundation would have consequences for Sweden not to say many innocent people who live in the Baltic coastal settlements. I propose a short-term truce. I will check what you said with Meister Sommerveld, and you will examine the von Sennheim papers. You will not be released but you will be unhooded and will need to stay in the cellar. Any attempt to escape will be met with extreme and lethal force. Is this acceptable?”
“I think we can live with that for now. We will look at the papers and summarise them for you.”
“This is good. So now you have a stay of execution. I will see you in three days.”
And so, the interrogation ended, The de Kveelders were relieved to have their hoods removed and were offered acceptable, if plain food. They began to look over the notebooks and papers taken from von Sennheim’s house.
It was harrowing reading. Small, cramped lettering, squashed into spaces too small for the text, repetitions, underlinings, scoring-out, interspaced with Delenda est Lubeca and Delenda est Gedania in large, bold lettering. There was hatred of the Hansa, in particular, and the Teutonic Knights in general.
The notebooks described a summoning at or near an ancient lodestone, a demon with powers over earthquakes or perhaps water and tides and an inundation that will send many souls to the afterlife.
A floorplan of an unnamed church, or more likely, a Cathedral, had been on the desk but there was no clue as to where in the known or unknown world it would be. There was also no clue as to how the floorplan fitted in with the scheme. And a date, written enigmatically as the ‘Eve of the World’ on which it would be propitious to caste a summoning. All in all, it seemed to be heralding a cataclysmic event that would end Low German power in the Ostsee.
The Captain returned on the third day. This time there was no hoods to cover their heads and he smiled when he met them. He was a grizzled veteran and perhaps a ships captain but of some wealth to judge by his clothing. He announced that he had a long meeting with Sommerveld, and it seemed that their goals were presently aligned. To that end they were no longer prisoners and truly guests who might want to spend a few more days recuperating from injuries and perhaps maintaining a low profile from von Sennheim, who was apparently conducting house to house searches in Falsterbo for the people who had burnt down his house. The Captain produced a letter from Sommerveld telling them to co-operate with the Captain and he would contact them soon.
They were left with two guards, this time for protection, the elder of which doubled as an adequate cook of edible, if not exciting, food. They were transferred to rooms in the first floor of the old farmhouse and left to themselves. The Captain promised to return on the fifth day and take them to Sommerveld.
On the third night, Mathias was alerted by a thump and someone kicking their heels on the wooden floor below. Arming themselves with their returned weapons, they sneaked to the stairs which overlooked the large ground floor of the farmhouse.
Both guards were struggling on the ground, grasping their necks as if something was strangling them. Maybe it was the dim light, or perhaps short-sightedness from too much bookishness and perusing accounts, but none of the brothers could see the cause. However, both guards were gasping and it looked to their untrained medical eyes as if they were not long for this world. All three ran to help, keeping a wary eye for the cause.
Hans was the first to one of the guards. Something black and sinuous was writhing around the man’s neck. His face was contorted, and it was unlikely he could breathe. Hans tried to get his dirk underneath the black cord and saw it to release the man. The others never made it to the other guard. Sinewy, black rope-like objects launched themselves at Mathias and Jürgen. Some hit and stuck, some were dodged. Those that stuck started to move up the body and had to be grasped and wrestled with.
A desperate fight ensued in which Jürgen was only saved from strangulation by Hans who had managed to get his dirk between Jürgen’s neck and the black strangler. Mathias had smashed one opponent against a wall and stood on another one while using his messer to chop bits off it while at the same time avoiding hitting his toes.
When Jürgen appeared to be recovering and there were no more attacks, Hans went to the shutters and looked out. He felt sure that such unearthly creatures must been animated and controlled from someone nearby. The stillness of the night contrasted strongly with the horror within the farmhouse. Mathias worked vainly on one of the guards, trying to resuscitate him to no avail.
They watched in horror and exhaustion as the black shapes melted into the floor, leaving only a black, unholy stain on the wood. Hans remembered he had seen them being created, or born, in a retort jar in von Sennheim's laboratory.
