Apothecary Melchior and the Mystery of St Olaf's Church (42 page)

‘The name of the builder of St Olaf's Church, yes,' Melchior confirmed. ‘Who died and whose bones were buried beneath St Olaf's.'

‘And the name is, well, that is … it is incomplete.' Kilian continued heatedly.

‘Because we do not have the last three lines of the song, although those are unimportant.'

‘But one can nevertheless still read here …' Kilian exclaimed. ‘That the name is C-O-N-R –'

Kilian had barely managed to pronounce the letters, when he was interrupted by a ghastly roar erupting from Freisinger's throat. He had pulled a dagger from his breast pocket at lightning speed and was rushing towards Kilian.

‘Silence, you idiot minstrel,' Freisinger howled. ‘That name is a secret if you want the church to endure. Shut your mouth.'

Dorn was none the less defter than the younger Blackhead. He leaped in front of Freisinger, barging him with his shoulder and knocking the dagger from his hand as the two court servants seized Freisinger from behind.

The merchant thrashed in their grip, struggling to break free, and screamed in rage, ‘You fools, you don't understand what you are doing. It is forbidden to say that name. It must remain secret or your church will fall into ruin, your town will fall into ruin …'

Dorn pressed the tip of his sword against Freisinger's breast and demanded, ‘Stand still. Do you now admit it? Do you admit your guilt? Do you admit to killing Wunbaldus, Gallenreutter and the Prior? Do you admit it, or shall Kilian read the name aloud? Kilian, read.'

Kilian had no time to do so. Freisinger's voice burst with loathing and rage.

‘I admit, yes, I admit it. Yes, I killed them. Order that minstrel to stay silent.'

‘To the prison cell. Take him to the prison cell,' Dorn commanded. ‘In the name of the Grand Master of the Order, the town and Lübeck law, take him to the prison cell.'

E
VERY NOW AND
again Melchior really enjoyed spending time here at the St Michael's Convent brewery – which nestled right up against the wall between the Nunnadetagune and Gut Dack towers – where the nuns sold beer to the townsfolk. It was a quiet part of town, and a somewhat higher class of customer – journeyman artisans, vassal servants, town watchmen and members of the monastery – drank here compared with those who went outside the town walls. The holy sisters' beer had a pleasant, bitter taste, and Melchior was especially partial to one of the brews that the nuns flavoured with mint. On this tranquil afternoon the Apothecary sat with Kilian and Brother Hinricus, who had finally managed to slip away from the monastery. The last few days had been quite difficult for the
cellarius
, as he had been tasked with a great deal of written correspondence, organizing a funeral service and the reorganization of monastery affairs. Sub-prior Gerbhardus was an old man, and so the younger brothers were required to take on the running of the monastery, while he spent his days praying in the chapel. Melchior was glad that he had been able to get out of the pharmacy for a spell, because word had spread throughout the town that it was he who had assisted the Council in capturing the murderer, and so a steady stream of townspeople had been stopping by his pharmacy demanding news – and, of course, to buy his goods. Melchior's business was booming, but it was tiring. Still, he was certainly now a step closer towards his dream of a house on Town Hall Square.

At the moment, however, Melchior, Hinricus and Kilian took swigs of beer and discussed the incredible events that had occurred over the last few days in Tallinn. The Commander, the Dominicans and the Town
Council had held a fierce debate over what to do with the body of Wunbaldus, or Wigbold, so that relations between the town, the monks and the Teutonic Order should not be too disrupted. In the end Wunbaldus's body was handed over to the Order – it was hanged at the gallows then dumped in the mud at Tõnismäe. His body was then disposed of as the Dominican Lay Brother Wunbaldus, because neither the Commander nor the town – not to mention the monks – wanted it known that he was once a Victual Brother thought to have died years before. There was no hard proof to support that theory anyway; Wigbold's name was not mentioned in any monastery document. The town of Tallinn did not want the reputation of having provided sanctuary to a thief notorious across the Baltic Sea. The Council simply announced to the townspeople that Wunbaldus and Clingenstain had an argument, and the monk beheaded him in a fit of rage and later breathed his last during a harsh bout of penitence at the monastery. The Toompea Murderer was dead, the Order had received the killer's body from the town, and it was executed in an appropriate manner. And may that dreadful story be forgotten henceforth.

What Hinricus now told Melchior, however, was that the man had been confirmed as having been the infamous Wigbold. Old Gerbhardus had known. That old man – Eckell's peer – had also been at the monastery in Visby and remembered Wigbold well. Hinricus saw tears amongst the wrinkles below Gerbhardus's eyes when the Order attendants arrived at the monastery to drag Wunbaldus's body up to Toompea. The old man admitted to Hinricus in private that the prayers he had said for Wigbold had not helped – once a murderer, always a murderer.

‘He escaped the executioner's axe, but Satan had marked the murderer's soul,' the old man whispered. ‘St Catherine sees that he repented his sins. He saved three Dominicans from the fury of his own brothers, yet he was not forgiven for those other souls whose bodies rest at the bottom of the sea. His greatest sin was that he called himself a friend to the Lord.'

‘Wigbold survived one death and will live through another,' Melchior said to Hinricus. ‘I wouldn't be surprised if some will see him as a kind of hero one day, although he will for ever remain a mystery. But, Hinricus, tell me, have you forgiven me for my ignoble scheming?'

‘I wasn't angry with you,' Hinricus replied with a smile. ‘Of course, it
all happened so fast that I was truly unable to believe that you were really accusing me of the killings. I have always believed that you are a sensible man and that such madness could have come upon you … However, when Freisinger lied in the names of all the saints then I understood immediately that it must have been a trap. Why else would he have had to tell such a dreadful untruth?'

‘I had to be certain,' Melchior replied, ‘certain that if he were given the chance to shift the blame on to someone else that he would do it. The man thinks very quickly, but this time he thought too quickly. I had to be absolutely confident that he was lying because otherwise I would not have dared to approach the Council with my accusations. Your surprise also had to be genuine for him to take the bait. After his lie I knew I was right, and then everything fell into place.'

Kilian sipped his beer and cast a few glances towards the window, through which his young friend Birgitta could be seen cutting grass in the nunnery garden. The boy held his lute in his lap, knowing that sooner or later someone would request that he play and that quite a few nuns would stop to listen until propriety got the better of them and they returned to their holy duties.

‘And about that golden chain,' Hinricus continued, ‘well, I have come to understand that no miracle took place in the town of Tallinn.'

Kilian shook his head sadly. ‘It seems not,' he said. ‘Sire Melchior was right once again. That flaw has hounded me since my childhood; in fact, it was the reason I was forced to leave Milan. That time it was over a silver brooch that belonged to a nobleman's daughter. The moment I saw it I just had to have it … I really couldn't help myself. I wanted it so much. The urge to steal is as strong within me as my desire to sing, but I genuinely repent it and have vowed one day to go on a pilgrimage.'

‘Singing might make you famous,' Melchior said. ‘It might not make you wealthy, but people will love you. If, on the other hand, you steal a golden collar belonging to a Knight of the Teutonic Order then you will have your hand chopped off.'

‘The urge overpowers me in an instant,' Kilian moaned. ‘It compels me and burns within my soul. When I steal it's like I'm watching myself from a few paces away, as if it's not really me at all.'

‘You must battle your inner self,' Melchior advised. Something sombre and painful flashed in his eyes for a brief instant. ‘If you stole something from behind Sire Tweffell's back then you will be cast out of the house
and Ludke would beat you to within an inch of your life. He has been ordered to keep his eye on you – but you've probably already worked that out.'

Kilianeyed Melchior for a moment in amazement but then nodded and asserted, ‘No, I would never steal anything from Uncle Mertin's house. It is my home, and I do not need to steal from my home. I came to understand that long ago. What I
fail
to understand, however, is how you knew that I took the collar.'

‘Stole,' Melchior corrected.

‘Well, yes, stole. I know that you found it and took it to the Church of the Holy Ghost, but still … how?'

‘One must believe in miracles, too, Kilian – in miracles, too,' Melchior replied. ‘As St Augustine once said, if a miracle does not match what we know from nature then we know too little about nature. If you do not believe in miracles then you do not believe the biographies of the saints and what they teach us, yet we all need the saints. As for the collar, I will say this. I know how much you like to sit on the well wall, and as I looked out of my window over those days I noticed that you were picking at that loose stone in the wall when you thought no one was looking. And once I realized it was you who had stolen the collar then I began to consider that you would hardly dare to hide it in Sire Tweffell's house because Ludke keeps you under surveillance. So I decided to take a look at the well.'

‘But, all the same, how did you know? That collar was like a curse. When I heard that the Knight had been killed, then … then I became afraid. I wanted to throw it down the well, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.'

‘I don't know whether I could have either. Gold has an incredible capacity to weigh on a man's soul. But how did I know? Quite simply, I noticed that you have a lust for stealing pretty things – you even stole a spoon from my pharmacy. (It is made of silver, by the way, and I would like it back.) You were on Toompea that day and had seen the collar. You wanted an attestation from Clingenstain. You saw him go into his residence, and I thought about what might have happened were you to follow him, thinking perhaps to ask humbly once more for the attestation, because you do possess courage and perseverance. Clingenstain had left the collar behind and gone to confession. The collar might have been there somewhere and – just as it was with the spoon – you would have been unable to resist the compulsion, have stuck the
collar into your breast pocket and run off. What betrayed you, however, was your lie that the Knight was wearing the collar around his neck when you saw him later. And actually, Kilian, you were also given away by the song that you sang to those young town maidens as well.'

‘Song? Which song?' Kilian asked in astonishment.

‘That song of nothing at all. You said that you thought it up on the spot, but actually you had sung the same song the previous day on Toompea. This meant that you were lying, albeit not very well. Minstrels should be better liars if they want to make it in life …'

‘I am not a minstrel,' Kilian retorted, ‘I am a Meistersinger – well, I'm still a journeyman – but either way, I'm not a minstrel.'

‘Fine, then, Meistersinger. Anyway, after I realized that you had stolen the collar then it was clear that the Knight had not been murdered for that, so what could I to do then? I could not tell the Order that it was
you
who had stolen the collar because Spanheim would have believed you to be the murderer as well. I had to find the right murderer and help you get rid of the collar in some way. The Church of the Holy Ghost almshouse seemed to be the most proper place for it. The Order will not demand its return from the poor.'

Hinricus chuckled lightly, turned his head so that the spring sunshine splashed over it and squinted. ‘So you agreed ahead of the meeting that Kilian would act as if he were about to read out the name of the builder of St Olaf's, yes?' he asked after a pause.

‘True, I admit that it was one more small trick I employed to force Freisinger into telling the truth. If he protected that name so dearly then he was forbidden to let it be heard in public.'

Melchior removed the piece of paper on which he had written the song of the ancient church builders from his breast pocket. He unrolled it and traced his finger along the lines of text.

‘But you knew the name anyway, didn't you?' Hinricus continued.

‘Yes, I saw it.
He who is afore all
. And we can work the name out from there. As far as we can surmise, it is a distant forefather of the former Alderman of the Blackheads.
Relic calls afar for its blood
. The Blackheads sent him here to guard the secret of his own name. Those men so full of secrecy, the ancient church builders with the wisdom of Solomon, a trowel and compass … I find it difficult to believe the things that people are prepared to kill for … the world is so full of mysteries. Perhaps it might have been better if I'd never become aware of the name.'

‘They had their ritual,' Hinricus said, ‘gruesome as it was, although this is not the first time I have heard of such things. Some say that the word “guild” itself relates to an old Saxon tradition in which a clan ate a sacrificial victim together. They also say, of course, that many strange practices and arcane secrets were brought back from the Holy Land.'

‘I have made a sacred vow to myself never to tell a soul the name of the man who built St Olaf's Church,' Kilian said seriously. ‘Do you think it's true that the town will be plagued by troubles and ruin if anyone ever finds out?'