in Schillingswald Forest.
“A merchant in Venice told me that you were here in Heidelberg,” said Johann at the end of his report. “I left the troupe to find you. I thought . . .” He paused.
“You thought what?” She gave a sad smile. “That I’d drop everything and go with you? You knew I was married.”
“But what sort of a marriage is it?” demanded Johann angrily. “Your husband sends you to a nunnery just because you told him of your nightmares!”
“Jakob did right,” replied Margarethe. “I feel safe here.”
“But do you love him? Have you ever loved him?”
She laughed with despair. “Where do you live, Johann? It was never about love. After the . . . incident in the forest, I was no longer an option for the merchant family from Bretten. There were . . . rumors—involving you, too. And so my father had to marry me off further afield. Jakob Kohlschreiber seemed like a good match to him. Admittedly, he’s not the gentlest, and he drinks, but he’s a good businessman.”
“And a good businessman knows when his wife has become worthless,” Johann replied bitterly. “Namely, when she has nightmares and says a few strange things.”
“They are no nightmares, Johann,” Margarethe said quietly. “It’s the truth. The boogeyman will return. He will return and change the world. The final battle between good and evil is near. He told me so himself.”
“He? What . . . what are you talking about?” Johann laughed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d gone crazy.” He regretted his words instantly, but it was too late. Margarethe’s lips became two thin lines.
“Do you know what day it is?” she asked eventually. “It’s the day of Archangel Michael. When the angel Lucifer rose against God, it was Michael who stood up to him, together with all the other good angels, the seraphim and cherubim. He threw Lucifer and his followers from the heavens and they fell deeply, right down into hell. But the bringer of light never gave up. He wants to come back—he wants to rule the earth. And very soon the day will come when he shows his evil face again!”
“Margarethe, stop! That’s—”
Johann had blurted the request so unexpectedly that he didn’t know what to say next. Margarethe gave him a challenging look.
“There’s something inside you—I can see it. Something dark, as if the boogeyman already tried to drag you down. Has he? Tell me.”
Johann thought of Tonio and the pact they sealed one rainy night in the woods.
You’ll fare well with me . . . Shake on it.
He thought about the handshake in Knittlingen and the gruesome death of Margarethe’s brother. He thought about the black potion in the woods near Nördlingen, the squirming bodies in the trees, and the fits of temper that had overcome him regularly ever since. But they were nothing but phantoms—ghosts of the past that could no longer touch him.
“No one tried to drag me anywhere,” he replied firmly. “I’m a faithful churchgoer, Margarethe.” He smiled. “Evil has no power over me.”
Johann knew he was lying. He went to mass only on Sundays or when he was forced to, like today. The last time he had prayed properly was at the grave of Peter Nachtigall in Italy. And he didn’t think his prayer had reached God’s ears.
God was far away.
But now Margarethe was standing in front of him, his angel on earth. If he didn’t want to lose her, he had to lie. What else could he do? Her time at the nunnery had left its mark, but he felt certain that he’d find the old Margarethe again if he was given enough time.
“I pray to all the saints to watch over me every day,” he said imploringly.
Margarethe nodded. “Pray to Saint Anna, because she helps those who have come close to evil. Will you promise?”
“I . . . I promise,” said Johann, remembering that Conrad Celtis had also asked him for a promise a few days ago. He held up a hand. “I swear it upon my mother’s soul.”
The words had come out before he could think too much about them, but they had a profound effect on Margarethe.
She laughed.
She laughed as merrily as back in the old days, when they’d played in the hay in Knittlingen. Johann’s heart leaped with joy.
“I’m so glad, my dear Johann. We’re in God’s hands.” She took a step toward him. “And I’m sure God won’t mind you touching me now.”
Slowly, he reached out and stroked her cheek. Margarethe