renaissance 1520 What do you want as your Epitaph?

[Nozbat]

It’s not the sort of question you want to hear from your brother, but it was one that Jürgen de Kveelder asked his younger brother, Hans. 

It’s also not that often you get to take the inside leg measurement of your opponent, a man with a left eye that eats the soul and a right hand seared black by close contact with demons. Hans had volunteered to attend to von Sennheim, Stadtholder des Falsterbos at the Royal castle, to take his measurements for his proposed suit of black clothing. Von Sennheim had clearly absorbed too many ‘villain tropes’ and did not feel like deviating from the norm by wearing white or perhaps pink. He reckoned it might confuse the viewers if he hadn’t chosen black. Hans decided it might be prudent to visit Marienkirche and confess his sins before going to the Castle. One had always to be prepared for the worst.

Those that are in the know, are aware of the difficulties with black dyes. Fixing them is a real problem. It’s a worse problem if you are a fake Cloth merchant with no idea of what constitutes a fine worsted yarn and when you are to provide said black cloth to a man that ordinarily you’d feel was way above your pay grade. Worse, your secondary mission was to kidnap said man. 

Jürgen worked through his anxiety by experimenting with using writing ink on scraps of cloth, but to no avail. The best he could do was to have an uneven coal- brown-type colour that seemed to stain everything but the fabric it was supposed to stay on. He wondered if a bad dye job might annoy von Sennheim so much that he would rashly come after them without his omnipresent Easterling guards and they could subdue him and take him back to Lübeck. 

Jürgen was mulling over the possibilities with some grim amusement as he pondered the homophones, dye and die. Both possibilities seemed likely, with that latter more probable. His reverie was interrupted by the return of Hans, still alive and with the tailor. Both looked unnerved but unhurt, at least physically. Hans told them they had four weeks to make the clothes or there were likely to be unpleasant and, thankfully as yet, unspecified consequences. He felt his usually vivid imagination was unhelpful in this situation.

Mathias, who had been lying on his truckle bed, supposedly thinking about their predicament, said that in his view, they had two options. Firstly, they could see if there was a Benedictine Monastery close. He was sure the Black Monks must know the secret of dying cloth black, after all they wore enough of it. Second, they must send a message to Lübeck to get people who actually knew about cloth to solve this problem. He acknowledged that the second option might take longer than four weeks, but it was better to do something rather than think up more complicated plans that were never likely to work.

Unfortunately as it turns out,  Benedictine monks must not like either cold or smelling of fish, for there were no known specimens of the Order in Falsterbo. Mathias mentally crossed that one off the list. He wrote a letter to Meister Sommerveld to send a fast ship to Lübeck for black cloth and for it to be back in three weeks at the latest.

They had heard that von Sennheim had a lover in the city and he kept him out of sight in a hideaway within the town. Hans did not think that such information could be kept secret forever and it would be known to those whose job it was to know such things. They just needed to identify the ‘people who knew’. This proved harder than expected as the ‘people who know’ were unfortunately not wearing labels to identify themselves. 

Meanwhile, Jürgen decided to work on a subplot, and go through Cornelius Agrippa’s de Occulta Philosophiato find a tasty morsel that could tempt von Sennheim into some importune action. Keen readers will remember this is the book, given to the brothers by their father to deliver to Meister Memminger, that began this sad sequence of events. It had already caused the death of Memminger and was likely to kill more people before the events ended. It might be that von Sennheim could be seduced by a scrap of a spell. Jürgen felt he had the beginnings of a cunning plan if only his Latin were a little better.

Hans had an idea that people who ‘might know’ could also work in the Castle. This seemed like an important insight. He knew that off duty servants and guards always drank in the Menacing Cow and that’s where they needed to be to find out the information.

Information is relatively easy to come by if one is willing to spend a significant amount of money on drinks for some badly paid servants and guards. Moreso, if you are also prepared to sing for them, they become much more pliable and are likely to talk. As we had discovered getting the information might be easy, hearing what was said is likely to cause  a level of despair of what to do next. 

The guards told of a man who was tough but fair, who bested everyone in sword fighting, whose Easterling guard sang to their weapons like lovers before killing, and that he was both courageous and vicious. One guard swore that he had seen a bullet fired point blank at von Sennheim which bounced off his forehead. The servants told a different story, of a man they were terrified of, of wanton cruelty for minor infringements, of midnight forays with his guards to consort with demons and a black hand that withered anything organic, including a person’s flesh.

The most important bit of information came from the Brewers apprentice, Sven, who knew that von Sennheim went regularly to an alley off Flødgade. This was a lead. It also appeared less dangerous than confronting a man who could suck out your soul and wither your flesh as easy as swatting flies.

Hans also thought that if they could get von Sennheim alone, they might need some form of soporific drug and was determined to get some. There seemed to be three options that might get von Sennheim alone. Firstly, a fitting of the half-finished garments. Secondly, Jürgen’s snippet of a summoning ritual, and finally, providing badly dyed cloth that would provoke a reaction. In each case, they needed von Sennheim to be on his own, away from his Easterlings and to voluntary imbibe a powerful drug. So not much to ask then. 

Hans found himself talking conspiratorially to the Apothecarist, Jonas Kúnßhain, about two doses of Poppy juice. The Apothecarist was wary and suspicious, wondering why someone needed such a potion. Hans hinted that he was planning to elope with his sweetheart and that although they were very deeply in love, her father had refused to allow the match. Jonas was a sucker for love stories, and immediately made an assumption that it was Elsebeth, daughter of the brewer, Göran Jonsson. Jonsson had recently accused his daughter of having a secret lover and had locked her up. It had been the talk of the town. Hans said he could neither deny nor confirm any interest in the lovely Elsebeth, but the noncommittal answer was enough for the Apothecarist. Warning that the exact dosage needed to be used, he prepared two potions for Hans which would cause quick and lasting sleep for the ornery Jonsson. 

Quick minded readers might have noted on seeing the short and rotund  brewer that he bore no resemblance to the tall and lean von Sennheim. This thought occurred to the brothers as they pondered the potions. Following a lengthy discussion, it was agreed that two-thirds of the potion might be enough for von Sennheim, but they were not sure. Jürgen thought it might be better to give him a whole potion and they would have to take their chances if it killed him. He felt that it would not be a great loss anyways. The matter could wait until they found the opportunity to use the potion.

Jürgen told his brothers that he had found what appeared to be a summoning ritual for Demons of Knowledge in de Occulta Philosophia and that he would make a copy of that section. He acknowledged that a lot of what he read and intended to write, he did not understand but was confident it would attract the attention of those that had such knowledge, and specifically von Sennheim. He set about making a copy.

Hans meanwhile had identified a tavern in which he could hire a private room and importantly had a private exit which they could take an unconscious von Sennheim out without others seeing him. The tavern rejoiced under the rather nationalistic name, For Cod and Denmark. Now they only needed to get von Sennheim to visit, alone and unarmed and willingly drink Poppy juice. No small feat.

All this peripheral activity was a distraction for the dangerous activity of going to find out where von Sennheim stashed his lover. Flødgade ran parallel to the docks, and the two streets were joined by a myriad of small alleys that housed cheap ale houses, taverns and bordellos for visiting sailors. Where there are sailors with money, there is danger from locals who wish to relieve said sailors of their coin. They were warned not to go at night, but that daytime was also dangerous as the area had no closing hours as most civilised areas would. 

Some judicious use of money and sharp questioning led Hans and Mathias to Fiskegade, a narrow alley that stretched about 100m between Flødgade and the Riverfront docks and warehouses. Small didn’t mean unoccupied. Every house was a bordello or dispensary for something any decent doctor would suggest should not be put near the mouth. Hawkers said everything was available, any pleasure you could think of and maybe some you presently lacked the imagination for. 

Hans and Mathias moved cautiously down the alley trying to ignore the various sex-workers who were keen to show their goods and wares. Two houses stood out. One was a drinking establishment, the Sailor’s Nuts and the other a stout stone-walled building with a new door, three strong locks and a padlock. Hans was unsure. Why would someone put their lover in an area like this and lock him up? They decided more well-judged use of coins might help. 

When they entered the Sailor’s Nuts, the proprietor suggested that they might have accidently come into the wrong place. This was not helped by the absolute silence from the assorted drunken sailors, dockers and cutpurses that filled the tables. Hans and Mathias decided on brazening it out. They would have a cup of the finest ale and wished to ask the proprietor some questions that might benefit them both. The proprietor, never wishing to turn down the chance of some easy silver, ushered them to a spot where only half the drunks would be able to overhear any conversation. 

Hans suggested they were looking for a warehouse, where they might be able to store goods away from prying eyes. He wondered about the building opposite with the locks and maybe the proprietor knew who owned it and if it could be hired. The proprietor said that if it was up to him, they could have the building in its entirety and for ever at no cost. He explained that at least once a week, the Stadtholder von Sennheim came there at night and blocked off the street with his guards, forcibly closing all the businesses in Fiskegade. No-one had the courage to suggest to von Sennheim that this was an imposition, and no-one knew what he did. One of the inquisitive whores from the next-door Cloisters Bordello, was whipped within an inch of his life for daring to spy on the Stadtholder. No-one has shown any further curiosity in that direction since.

The proprietor said that he knew people, who knew other people, who could get what they wanted. Hans declined to give the proprietor an address but said they would return. The proprietor was unhappy but accepted the situation as delicate. Hans had one final question. He asked when von Sennheim had last been at his house.

Walking away, Mathias and Hans felt pleased. If they needed to get into the house, they had a window of 2-3 days in which they hopefully would not be surprised by a visiting von Sennheim. They looked down a small entry that they had previously overlooked that ran down the side of the building and discovered another stout door, equally strengthened by three locks and a padlock. Whatever was in the house was precious enough to be guarded well. Neither thought it was a lover. Both failed to spot the small boy who shadowed them unobtrusively as they made their way back to their lodgings for a well-earned meal and some real beer.

They checked with Meister Sommerveld, who was annoyed that they had come to see him with only rumour and supposition rather than hard fact. They had been tasked by the Diet to do something and they needed to get the evidence. And yes, he said, that might also include  breaking-and-entering.

Subdued the brothers returned to Falsterbo and began planning for what might be their own deaths. All manner of concerns and dangers were raised in the plan to get in the house. In the end it was achieved by clever use of pries, placed simultaneously at the alleyway door.

The bottom floor was clearly some kind of living quarters and held eating utensils and food but no bedding. The upper floor was as odd as they had seen. Bottles, glassware, retorts, mortars and pestles, tubes, pipes, animal and human bones, stuffed animals, braziers, glowing and noisome liquids and dark coiling strands that flowed up a pipe and settled twisting and gliding over each other like manufactured snakes. Hans thought he saw a murine shaped man at one of the retorts but when he blinked the figure was gone. 

There was a desk that also attracted the attention and behind it chalked on the wall was “Delenda est Gedani” and “Delenda est Lubeca”. Notes, formulae, scraps of letters and ominously a floor plan of a church lay scattered on the desk. 

As they sat staring at the tableau, one of the retorts wobbled and crashed, splintering over the bench and spilling a thick, viscous liquid that fell in gloops to the floor. The pungent and lung-blistering gas given off by the liquid suggested a quick exit. Hans and Mathias took as much of the papers as possible and Jürgen emptied some of his black powder charges for his pistol under the table and laid a trail as a fuse to the door. When they were ready, he struck his tinder box. The very air seemed to ignite from the spark and flames shot up taking implements and furniture with preternatural quickness. 

All three tried to jump the main flames onto the already flaming staircase. Hans and Mathias landed safely enough but Jürgen was caught in the flames and his hose and boots ignited as he ran down the stairs. Hans seeing that Jürgen was still alight took his cloak off and tried to douse the flames. The cloak started to flame, so he used it to remove the remnants of Jürgen’s hose and boots and discarded the flaming mass in the street. 

All three had been burnt with the wildfire, Jürgen significantly but they had escaped the house which was now burning like a torch and already spreading to adjacent houses. 

“Stop where you are and do not make any sudden movement if you want to live”, said a voice. Through the heat wave they could see armed soldiers surrounding them. 

This might end badly thought Hans. Maybe his Epitaph would be "Badly died in Falsterbo"