the jugglers seemed injured.
When Johann stood up from the dirt, he noticed Emilio staring at him with a strange expression.
He couldn’t tell whether it was hatred or relief.
It took more than three hours before the path was cleared sufficiently for the caravan to continue its journey. The Augsburg merchants had lost two wagons and three wagon hands. Two pilgrims had been killed by falling debris. Most of the travelers had suffered scrapes and bruises, and one young pilgrim bore a nasty head wound. Johann thought to himself that not even their boundless love of God had saved the pious men. Today the Almighty had been angry, not merciful.
Three more wagons were too damaged to continue on and needed to be pulled back to Fort Finstermünz for repairs. Many of the costly bales of cloth were torn and filthy—a harsh blow for the merchants.
“I knew this journey wouldn’t end well,” muttered Archibaldus again and again as they made their way up the steep mountain pass in the fading daylight. “I knew it.”
He avoided looking Peter in the eye. The troupe’s leader had checked and fastened their gear in silence, making sure his new fiddle was unharmed. No one dared to address him—not even Salome, who was fine apart from a few minor scratches.
Finally, long after sunset, they reached the village of Nauders, which lay close to the top of the pass. Utterly exhausted, they sought out the local hostel, where a handful of gout-ridden monks took care of the injured. The rain had finally stopped, and the survivors lay down to rest. Some of the pilgrims sang a hymn, which sounded hollow and desolate among these frigid walls. The dead would be buried in the morning.
Shivering with cold and exhaustion, Johann was lying wrapped in a damp woolen blanket. He’d never felt more tired in his life, and yet he struggled to fall asleep. He closed his eyes and was listening to the prayers of the pilgrims when he felt a hand on his cheek.
It was Salome.
“Come,” she whispered.
He got up and quietly followed her past the sleeping travelers, through the gate, out into the fields, until the hostel lay far behind them. A dark castle watched over the plateau, and snow stretched before them like a sea of black pitch.
“Our bed,” whispered Salome.
She pulled him down into the snow, and they loved each other passionately, as if it would be the last time. The wind pushed the clouds aside and the snow sparkled in the moonlight. Johann didn’t feel the cold, and his exhaustion had vanished as if by magic. Salome was showing him a world he’d never known before. Her hands clawed his back and he cried out, because some of his wounds from that unfortunate night near Nördlingen hadn’t fully healed yet.
“What’s that?” she asked and ran her fingers over the bumpy scabs. She gave him a wink. “Another woman? Should I be worried, little wolf?”
“Sometimes I ask myself the same thing,” Johann murmured. He stroked a long scar that ran right across Salome’s back. “And what about this one? What secret are you carrying around with you?”
Salome smiled, but her eyes looked sad. “We all have our little secrets, don’t we?”
He grabbed her again and made love to her in silence with an aggression that was new and a little frightening to him. Salome groaned and cried out—he couldn’t tell whether with pleasure or pain.
When they sneaked back to the hostel a while later, she gave him one last kiss.
“Thank you,” she breathed and disappeared inside the wagon.
Johann wasn’t sure whether she was thanking him for saving her life in the gorge or for their lovemaking in the snow.
He slipped through the gate and entered the dark, foul-smelling hall. He was about to wrap himself back up in his blanket when he noticed Emilio watching him.
“I guess you think that just because you saved her life she’ll be forever at your feet,” said the young juggler. “Forget it. That woman can’t be owned—you’ll learn soon enough.”
“I don’t want to own her,” Johann replied.
“I first met her more than three years ago, when she arrived at the port in Genoa with Mustafa,” Emilio continued as if Johann hadn’t spoken. “Did you know the two of them are brother and sister? She said they came from Alexandria, where they used to be slaves of a wealthy Syrian merchant. She was his plaything and he raped her several times a day, torturing her with whips, chains, and other instruments. One