Yeah, I've been bad. Between moves, music festivals, and the usual laziness, it's been rough, but for the time spent, I have the longest chapter yet.

X.

The next thing Lawrence knew was the pure whiteness of the dawning day blaring through their tattered excuse of a curtain like God's own righteous displeasure at the excesses of the night before. Indeed in many towns across Europe at the same time were many wretched penitents hiding from the dawn's divine judgment, meagerly shielding themselves with blankets, stricken with that curse which made them as vampires. But Lawrence, despite his aching head, crusty eyes, and mouth which had the texture and taste of dry sharkskin, was upright and making use of whatever senses he could summon. Had it all been a dream? Had those intimate moments been real? He couldn't bear the notion, nor could he bear the notion of its negation. He needed a drink, the "hair of the wolf", he supposed. He cradled his jumbled and inadequate head in his hands for a minute before he remembered that he had a meeting to attend to. From the looks of it, he might already be late. He could not remember when this meeting was supposed to take place. He wondered if Ernst had either. Had he even made it at all, or had he just gotten a laugh from their whole performance and not said a word of it to his master? He pulled himself forward and began to look about the room in confusion and impotent frustration, as he had little energy by which to get up. He would take no chance, at least none not already taken. Suddenly, he saw that Horo too had arisen in her own bed next to his. She was as pale as a ghost and did not seem one bit well, giving him a piteous look. So pale indeed that it reminded him of the time when he had first seen her naked form before the coming dawn, and there had decided to take her with him. So strange and jarring the vicissitude, but it yet seemed to inspire the very same sentiment through different lenses. He just said her name once with concern. He had the impulse to go and sit at her side, but his leaden body would not entertain the notion for a moment. In his overtaxed mind, the overwhelming and immediate anxiety which was the possibility of a failed business venture was beginning to sweep him up. Without another second he was afoot and going to fill the washbasin. There was no time to spare.

"Just stay there and rest. I have to see this noble about the contracts. We'll really have something to celebrate once that's done."

"I will go with you."

She dragged her legs over the bedside, but hesitated, seeming to lose her balance. Lawrence continued changing his clothes and washing what places he could.

"It will be fine, rest in bed until you're feeling better. I was able to make business agreements before I met thee. Would you wish me to forget how?"

His head now severely aching, he prepared to depart. He would try to give her one last reassuring smile, but when he turned he saw that she was standing right behind him. She was dressed and looked determined. If what he thought she had said the last night was true, it would be more for her own benefit than his that she go. With a full army of anxieties beginning to descend upon his thoughts, he decided he would not add an argument with her to its rank.

By some spell, miracle, or whim of Fortune, they arrived, and were indeed admitted to see Lord Marten van Heit. From what Lawrence had learned from his friends and contacts over the years, this van Heit was the overseer appointed by his family over their holdings in Liege. They were of course based in Antwerp, remaining in the war-stricken city and staunchly in support of Catholicism and the king even after the Revolt had driven much of the its best and most profitable resources into the north. He was quite young, the family's youngest son, and so he had almost no chance of gaining any control over their business, or advancing beyond his limited station. But rather than becoming idle and prone to every manner of vice and degeneration of character, as men in that position often do, he was supposedly quite sensible and responsible, and even rather sly. Lawrence was rather worried about that last feature, but with Horo at his side, he found he was growing to fear very little in other men. This in itself could be quite worrying, but he forced himself to consider only what was at hand.

His office was amazingly spacious and spared no expense in its adornment. Lawrence felt all but naked standing at its threshold, so empty and vast the tiled floor between himself and Master van Heit, who sat at his great wooden desk, his head resting in manicured hands. His appearance was flawless, looking to be no older than Lawrence. His straw-blonde hair cut just below the ear and straight as the strings of a lyre, and his neatly trimmed goatee was current with the fashion in France. His clothing was expensive but not ostentatious, he wore a blue linen shirt with a white down-turned collar with frilly lace, all bright and spotlessly clean. It thoroughly put Lawrence to shame with his scruffy brown mop and brown weather-worn jerkin with hastily patched-up doublet. Although he realized that the entire scene before him was carefully planned out and maintained precisely to make men of lesser standing, such as himself, feel distant and small. It was hard not to be intimidated by the untouchable perfection of the man behind the ornately carved desk and the great space which was his domain. He might has well been Zeus peering down at him from Olympus. That desk did appear to be quite a spectacle in itself, as Lawrence could see the carving on its front depicted sinners being pulled by demons down into Hell. Though he knew what mise-en-scène to expect, he had heard nothing of what van Heit's religious leanings actually were, and that did worry him. The detail of the carving reminded him of what he had heard of the terrible invocations made by one of his countrymen called Jerome van Acken* who had served at the court of a Spanish king. The couple bowed as the lord stood from his desk and walked briskly to the doorway.

"It is an honor, my lord. I am Lawrence d'Baelen, and this is my wife, Diana."

"Greetings, dear sir. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. My lady."

His French was awkward and halting, as stiff as his movements. Lawrence felt suddenly panicked that he had no gifts to present to this greater man, as he would no doubt expect, but there was surely nothing he did or could possess that might be suitable, save for the contracts.

"So you have come to tell of this case of subterfuge by the Spanish cardinal, yes?"

"Yes my lord, here are the contracts which show the names of all the merchants who agreed to buy the new Spanish coins, including my own."

The lord cordially took the papers from him, quickly shuffling through them.

"I see. I believe we have sufficient proof that what you say is true. We have heard it said that his eminence, the Cardinal Alvarez, is quite keen on proving his worthiness to his majesty so as to gain more honor and praise in court. But of course to be in such a position and keep it is a manifold struggle regardless of intentions. But before we speak any further of this business, there is something I wished to ask you, sir."

Marten retreated to his desk and sat at its edge, looking at him quizzically with cocked head.

"I heard of what occurred yesterday down at the warehouse, the sale made by you to my man, Ernst. Do you recall this?"

"I do, my lord. It was quite merciful of you to let him keep his job, and even more so for you to allow me here."

"Think nothing of it. Ernst is an honest man who was made quite ashamed by the derision of his peers for his poor judgment, and likely will be for many days to come. I consider that punishment enough. I personally instruct many of the men who work for me on how to identify the tricks and deceptions often used by wandering hawkers. It was just such a thing that you employed. To be brief, he should have known better. But you on the other hand..."

Marten stood and circled around towards the front.

"I agreed to meet you here because I am honestly baffled. There are no shortage of petty hucksters on these streets, but never have I seen one return to reap the fruits of his labor, so to speak. "The deceiver is always at the mercy of the deceived", they say, but I never thought anyone would take it so literally! You have slapped me with one hand and now come to offer a gift in another. Why are you here right now, monsieur Lawrence? Why do you wish to do business with me?"

Lawrence began to sweat, though van Heit sounded more curious than anything else. In the rush of his foolhardy gambit he had given very little consideration into making his actions, and her actions, convincing. He had thought of only means and ends, not people. But before he could say anything, Marten interjected.

"Is she well?"

He had taken notice of Horo for the first time. Looking down, Lawrence saw that she was slouched. Lawrence rattled off automatically.

"We had a rather trying night last, please forgive us, your excellency."

"Oh no, it is you who must forgive me for so totally forgetting my manners. Please to have a seat both of you, I will have refreshment brought in immediately. If there is anything I can do at all for my lady, please do but ask."

"Water. I would like some water."

"Of course, it will be just a moment. Do pardon me."

Marten bowed deeply and jumped out into the hall to bark some commands in Dutch. Lawrence turned to her as they sat down in the small chairs against the back wall.

"Are you going to be alright? We can go back if you want."

"I will be fine, really. What's more important now is how you will explain yourself."

She looked to him with her face just as pale as before, but with those garnet eyes alight with unknown fire. He sighed with consternation and turned away. He had no answer because there was none. If he pleaded and made a show of having learned his lesson about being cheated he might just buy it. But he might just as well take the contracts and have them both thrown in jail too. But if he tried to downplay their actions, it would just make him seem all the more profligate.

"Just tell him the truth."

"What?"

It was all he could do to keep his voice a whisper.

"It was I who cheated, not you. You knew nothing about it."

"It doesn't matter, I can't just put the blame off on my wife. No one would accept that as excuse. I might as well blame my own left arm."

She did not react, but only turned away again. He knew she was sulking, and not just from the hangover.

"I apologize for the delay. Please forgive my insensitivity, madame. Is there anything else I could do?"

Van Heit appeared again with a tankard of water.

"No, I shall be fine, sir. Thank you."

"Monsieur d'Baelen, I understand that you would wish to attend to your wife. I can see you another time without-"

"No, there is no need."

Horo suddenly stood, having finished the water in some unseen moment, and set the tankard aside.

"My dear, I believe our facade must have crumbled under the weight of our gracious host's keen intelligence. Honored sir, it is certainly most strange that we would come back and meet with you after so defaming your good business. We have been far from kind to both you and dear monsieur Ernst, and for that you shall receive compensation. We shall pay back to you the money that was not owed us for the furs. We place ourselves at your mercy, lord"

Lawrence was standing now too, more out of shock than obedience to Horo's new and sudden course. She curtsied deeply.

"Well, that is most considerate of you. I am glad to see that madame is so invigorated now."

Marten looked back and forth between the two of them with obvious trepidation.

"Truly a man's highest qualities spring from the lowest deeds, would you not say? What more complete picture of a man might there be than that upon the faces of those who serve him? A kind, just and prudent man is always surrounded by those who are likewise kind and honest, but a man who is cruel, corrupt, and decadent is surrounded by faces filled with fear and duplicity."

"I'm afraid I do not understand."

"What my wife means to say is that we were testing you, my lord." Lawrence was standing at her side. He was not sure himself if he had taken her lead, but somehow his words had seemed inevitable, as if something else had stirred them down beneath his mind.

"How so? When?"

"My husband tells me you are known as a just and honorable man, but there are few ways to know as much for sure until a test is given."

"When we saw how you treated a man who had faltered in his duties to you, we could be sure you were of good character, and someone with whom we would want to engage in such an important venture as this. I must apologize for the deceptions, but surely my lord would know the value of such things."

"Quite."

The great room seemed to have become very small, with Horo and he standing together just a few feet from Marten, who seemed rather taken aback, propping himself on the edge of his desk.

"Well, that is a most novel way of judging a man's character you have. I was going to ask how it was you were able to find out the truth of such a lofty affair, let alone have the gall to pursue it. But I see that the two of you must be full of all manner of cunning, with 'mind teeming' as the old poem goes. I wonder; perhaps you feel you can trust me, but can I trust thee?"

He was looking more bemused by the second.

"Would we show what we have to one we did not think worthy to see? We take a great risk even letting you know what we possess. And surely your lordship would not be complacent watching some Spanish cardinal shamelessly exploit your hard-working countrymen? Or at least, not without due recourse."

Horo's eyes gleamed.

"Well, such a thing would have to be handled very delicately. My family is on friendly terms with Spain as I'm sure you're aware, and public disloyalty would not yield happy results for anyone involved. We would have to blackmail them anonymously. Probably through a go-between of some kind. A cardinal can be a very dangerous enemy indeed, but his kingdom as a whole would lose considerable face among the merchant class here if it was revealed what he was doing. And as to the scheme itself..."

Marten spoke with his head turned away and seemed to have become engrossed in thought.

"It is stupid, on the face of it. He encourages poor peddlers who don't know any better to buy coins that are diminishing in value. As soon as all the merchants catch on, they'll try to sell off the coins as quickly as they can. But perhaps... Ah, of course, he must be planning to buy up all of these coins as they flood the market. The price would jump, if only for a short time."

Lost in his reverie, Marten began to pace the room in a circle.

"He even has a list of names of all the men who will be selling them so it wouldn't be very hard. It would be risky, very risky, too many unknowns. But this is Spanish currency after all, so they might not have anything left to lose."

He stopped suddenly and turned to them.

"It may not have to be a matter of blackmail. If we are swift enough we may beat them at their own game."

"I'm not sure I follow you, lord."

"I apologize for not speaking in terms a layman would understand. What I mean is that the Spanish are expecting to buy up a very large amount of their own currency at a very low price in the hopes of increasing its value, and likewise selling it back to make a profit, or else holding it so that its value will stabilize. They have kept their plans a secret, and thus will not expect any other party to compete with them in this endeavor. Indeed any competition would prove quite a disaster. If some other informed agent were to also buy these coins, quickly and at higher price from all those selling it, he could take all the profit for himself. We have all the knowledge necessary here to compete with them, to displace them so surely that we can claim their prize before they even know the better."

Comprehension was just beginning to dawn on Lawrence while Marten was already an inference ahead. He could expect as much, and in truth, it was the reason he was there.

"You plan to act on this knowledge, my lord?"

"Please call me Marten, there's no reason for formality between us. We are both but men in search of profit, no?"

His smile looked genuine, but he still had a hard time being convinced.

"But as to this vindictive little venture, I shall give it serious thought. I suppose one as keen as you would know that my home, Antwerpen, is a shell of its former self. It was gutted thirty years ago when the Spanish and their army of mercenaries destroyed it. It is far into decline, though none will admit such things. We are like a lesser tree that is dying in the shade of a larger. Imperial excesses, imperial wars, and the ever-expanding imperial debt have left us with no room to breathe. And now they will exploit even their own faithful subjects, those who should by all accounts have thrown off their miserable yoke long ago... Ah, do forgive me, I have spoken too freely."

He seemed to have let his thought run away with him, looking distant and speaking with a soft, even voice. But he immediately snapped back into form, putting on a phony, sheepish grin before returning to the corner of his desk, a spot which Lawrence noticed was clear of any clutter, as though he was in the habit of perching there.

"I suppose I must trust you since I have felt you so familiar as to speak such treasonous words in your presence. I said as much but I do not consider the king in Madrid my benefactor, though my father would have it so. In truth I have before now pondered how I might be able to do some harm against the Spanish without destroying my business and being disinherited. A petty desire, of course, but in this case, it could be only natural. Ah, but I have kept you here long enough, I'm sure you're both eager to be off. I propose that you keep the money from the furs as a finder's fee for these contracts. I must consult some associates before taking any action, but I do intend to go through with what I described. It will need to be carefully timed, I don't suppose your friend told you anything of when his master-? Ah, no matter. In any case I am willing to give you ten per cent of our earnings from this investment, whatever it may be."

The sky had gone to red as they walked leisurely home along the waterfront. An odd tranquility was about as they passed, though it was obviously a well-walked path they trod, the cobblestones worn down to a regular smoothness. Horo was still not well. She held onto him for support and was not talkative. It was times as this when she seemed so fragile and vulnerable that he couldn't help but think of all that she had brought to him, and how much he wanted her to stay. She had managed to convince everyone involved that the blind idiot risk that was the meeting that day was the door to a worthwhile venture and profitable partnership. Over and over again he found that he couldn't truly believe that she was real. That anything that had happened of late was real. Perhaps he was still asleep in his wagon neath the stars in that backward village, with visions of pagan rituals and the devouring loneliness of a young man with no roots churning a strange brew neath his lids. It was a wholly rational possibility, but one from which he fled without reservation. He could find solace, after all, in the moment.

"Why are you so happy? Is it because you will have enough money to buy a store now?"

"This is a long way from a done deal. He may change his mind and decide not to kick the hornet's nest."

"So all my cajoling was for naught, then?"

"..You're still feeling this ill, eh?"

Horo took that as a cue to stop and lose her balance for a moment as Lawrence grabbed hold of her waist to keep her steady. She returned to her place at his side, both arms around his without comment.

"We're almost at the inn, you need to rest now."

"I don't want... I don't want to be a burden to you anymore."

"You're the furthest thing from a burden I have ever had."

Lawrence was shocked from his pleasant reverie. He was forced to remember what she had said last night.

"...You don't realize the truth yet... But you shall."

It was growing dark, and Horo had been asleep since they arrived back in their squalid accommodation. He knew he should be sleeping too, for his head was aching and his thoughts were swimming in an indecisive malaise. But it was such a night that one could take no rest. What would he do if she left? Perhaps the far-fetched plot to buy the diminished coins would earn him a fortune. Perhaps it would earn him the gallows. Then there would be no one to come to his rescue, nor would their be anyone to with whom to drink and celebrate. Did she really mean what she said? He thought on this for a long time, but could not come to any conclusion save 'there is no way to know.' Just as his eyelids were finally winning their prolonged war of attrition, he heard her stirring and moaning softly from her bed. She suddenly sprung up, sitting straight, as though she had woken from a nightmare. Her eyes began wandering, confused and worried, until they fell on him, and they became for the slightest moment glad and at ease. Then a look of sadness overcame her. The one she wore more often than not in recent days.

"Are you alright? Did you have a bad dream?"

She turned her gaze from him and was reticent.

"It... It was just the same dream I always have. Of being the... being as I was before, in the wheat."

"It makes you sad to remember it?"

"You wouldn't understand... I... I don't want to remember it. It was nice, at times. Watching trees sprout from the hills and grow from saplings into giants. The sun, the stars, and the clouds danced together in circles over me, onward and endless. It could be beautiful sometimes. I don't know how many seasons passed like that. If I watched, it was like a whirlwind of colors and movement as all the trees and plants went from green to red to brown and bare and back again. And the villagers, all toiling over it, sweating, groaning, laughing, singing... and dying. I felt the wheat arise from the earth, grow, bear fruit, then die and return again. All things, all together, arose and again returned. I stopped perceiving the passage of time at some point. I know that I was there for a great age, but it was like a dream. I can't even tell the difference between the dreams and the memories anymore. I was there for so long and yet have nothing to show for it. I don't even know if anyone I knew is still alive... But I've already done enough crying over such things."

"You clearly haven't if you're still sad about it."

He was sitting next to her on the bed now. It was certainly true that he did not understand, and perhaps she would think him all the more a fool, but with her his boldness always seemed to show itself long before his doubts. She turned away from him, distant and inscrutable, but he thought he saw the faintest smile flash for an instant on her lip in the flickering light.

"You complain of my sulking but you're the one who's still sleepless at this hour. Get thee to bed. It does neither of us any good to dwell on such things."

She was right. He never would have gotten anywhere if he but dwelt constantly on that past, as had some others he knew. Such people inevitably made themselves miserable with sorrow and drink. Such might he have done too had it not been for all the opportunities of the moment. He smiled and patted her hand as she went back to her dreams, looking a little more content. He snuffed the nub of a candle and collapsed into his own bed, struck down by a fatigue that he did not realize was upon him.

He slept sound for a time which seemed like years though it couldn't have been more than an hour. Through his threadbare blanket he could see the moonlight shining bright through the holes in the rickety shutters of their window. A cool breeze made its way into the room and drifted gently over him, quenching the heat of his body and soothing his thoughts. Surely she wouldn't leave and be alone again. He imagined her tight in his arms, and went slowly and peacefully to sleep. He soon after found himself dreaming that something warm had come near to him, and a hot wind was tickling his face. Slowly and reluctantly his mind surfaced and he opened his eyes to see that Horo lay next to him. She was staring straight at him, her eyes as sharp as knives. Panic began to grip his chest. Had he unknowingly climbed into her bed in his sleep? He remembered his own bed was significantly more rickety than hers and sloped downward. He was still in it, so it was she who had come into his. Upon seeing his look, she smiled and moved herself closer. He could feel her warmth over his whole body, for she was nearly pressed against him. It was getting very warm. He thought not of her soul, her sadness and longing so recently bared to him, nor even of her porcelain skin or flowing mane of autumn honey. But with only base desire of flesh and a muddled fugue of thought to temper it, his arms slid around her waist and back and pulled her into him. He most certainly must be dreaming, after all. But what truly did it matter? Though at such a juncture a man of wit and composure would contemplate foremost the possible consequences of anything hence undertaken. The fruits born of a roll in a lousy bed with a trickster she-wolf being certainly far from common knowledge, even of the most veteran merchants of the world. Might she bear child or litter of cubs? Would they have the traits of their mother or father, and which from whom? Plato and Aristotle would surely have a fine time with such quandaries. Sagely discernment was far from him at the moment, however His lips met hers, but just then her finger came between them.

"Are you awake yet? There are five armed men coming up the stair towards the door. We have to escape through the window, now."

Both of them were thankfully still clothed. She pulled him out of bed by the arm and threw open the window shutters, nearly taking them off their hinges. He surely must be dreaming. The light of the full moon was almost blinding outside. She turned to him, and though groggy it seemed her eyes were glowing round and red. She was laughing.

"How bold art thou tonight, from me thou wouldst drink life's sweetest wine in full! Crave too must thee the sweetness of death's darker draught!"

They fell, he knew not how, out from the open window into the moonlight. He barely missed smashing his nose on the stones of the yard below as his legs bumbled and flailed.

"Leave the cart" she yelled as he was again pulled along down into some staggered block of shadow. As shock and abject fear began to give way to manic energy he started to run. Why were they being chased? Of what worth could they be to whom, alive or dead? Zenobe. He must have been caught and made to tell. But so soon? Perhaps he meant to betray them to begin with. He couldn't put it past him. But why, why kill the poor peddler and his wife? They found a niche in some nameless alley that was out of sight. Their pursuers bolted past, six in all. Horo breathed hard into his chest. He did too.

"Do you see now, what my company will bring you? If we stay together they'll surely find us."

"And they might find us anyway, what do you know?"

"I said check that damn alley you mook, they didn't vanish!"

The words echoed close and harsh off the walls around them. Steps grew close again. Running together the other way was still judged the better option.

"And thine hair... Thine hair is so beautiful! I'll not sleep sound in the earth until I have bought thee a comb for it."

"Idiot, what are you saying?"

"But you owe me a lot of money still, maybe I'll wait till you've paid some of it off first!"

There was so much he still had to say. So much they had yet to do. And yet this was the end, the frantic pursuit and inevitable reckoning by a world which they had scoffed at all too merrily. His debt to fortune had come due. He pulled her tight around a cascade of turns and through jerking steps into blind uncertainty. They ducked behind a hay cart as their audibly winded pursuers passed them by again. They lingered scant paces away in confusion and breathlessness. They would find them soon. She looked at him, a ghost-white specter with eyes of blood. Her head was uncovered. She had lost her scarf. They knelt in silence and looked at one another for an eternal moment. He was transfixed on her, holding her hand so tight that he might not have been able to let it go again.

"Lawrence, listen to me. That man, Marten, he and his men are near here. I can hear them laughing and drinking. It's their warehouse that lies just across the street. If you go to them, I'm sure they will guard you. But I..."

She looked away and was hesitant.

"It is time I left."

"What are you saying? Why will leaving now help me or you or anyone else? With your head uncovered you'll just make more trouble-"

"That I shall, and as I do you will run for safety."

"But it-"

"No more! I can stand it no more... I.."

She lowered her head and he knew the beginnings of tears were in her eyes. He thought for a second that perhaps he was having a nightmare of his own, and soon enough would wake and see her next to him again. He felt the harsh stones of the street burrow dully into his knees, and the sweat on his brow turning frigid cold in the night air. He could allow himself no such hope. He realized that she must feel the very same.

"I thank you. I am grateful for the time we have shared. You reminded me of what it is to be free. I haven't been so happy in so very long. But do not feign to understand me or to command me. Know me as I am, a great wolf of the north where the sun lingers. Where men cross paths with me always is there blood spilt. Go now in peace, thankful that it was mine own and not yours."

With peace upon her face, she stood and ran out into the street before he could say another word. She slowed and stood before the brigands, probably offering them the sight of their undoubtedly brief lives. The went to to take her but were soon repulsed. Scared and disbelieving, they at turns were compelled forward and shocked aback, muttering to each other fearfully as Horo growled at them with monstrous aspect, teeth bared and ears flat against her head. She stood her ground. It was a full minute before they realized that Lawrence was banging relentlessly on the door of the warehouse just across from them.

"Git er... it out of sight you worthless bastards, we've gotta get him too!"

Horo was reluctantly led away with a sack over her head as some visibly shaken ruffians were waved towards him. He didn't dare look back as their clubs were brought to bear on his head. But just before coming down, the door finally opened. Looking up from his grimacing stoop, he saw a very large man in an apron flanked by several other onlookers with torches and tankards.

"What is going on out here, eh?"

"None of your damned business you ugly whorespawn geuzen, go back inside!"

He took a moment to quizzically examine the situation, but knew immediately what to do when he heard the knave's greeting.

"You dirty fucking gutter rats think you can insult me on my lord's property? I'll put those sticks so far up your ass you'll sneeze splinters!"

"Is there gonna be a fight out there? Hold on, dammit, let me get my pistols on!"

Voices grew loud and numerous from inside. Lawrence's assailants quickly lost their nerve and fled to the shadows beyond the bobbing lights of the gathered crowd, who looked only slightly more well-disposed than they.

"Oy, aren't you tha one who gave that smarmy prick Ernst the switch? Ha! Come over here and hav a drink, you look like you need it."

It was a very tempting proposal.

"Did ja get robbed out there by those scum?"

"No. I mean yes. They took my wife", Lawrence muttered. Though the gathering was talking incessantly amongst itself, they seemed to hear him somehow.

"Taking a man's wife from his own arms right at the center of town? Is there no shame left in this rotten world? By God, what are things coming to."

"Ha ha, I'll drink to that", someone intoned.

He was silently pulled inside in the well-lit interior where it seemed the house's whole assemblage and more were drinking and laughing. There were day-laborers, guards and watchmen, a few drunkards, and a doxy or two to serve them, Though they were common working men as he, he recognized none of the faces around him. What was he doing there? What was he to do? She had gone. Surely death was in store for her now. But if there was still a chance, any chance.

"Your master! He can help me, I must see him now! He can help me get her back, I know who they are and what they want. So does he."

"See our master? What's the peasant on about?"

"Well he did see him this afternoon, didn't he?"

"Are you sure those weren't the constables that was chasin him?"

"Be quiet you louts."

The large man stood before him. He seemed to command respect from the rest and spoke calmly.

"Master van Heit is not here as it's after dark. You may return in the morning to request an audience."

"The master is here, upstairs in his study."

All eyes turned to a man in the back, prim and gaudily dressed, but with collar and cuffs undone, who had just filled his mug from the enormous keg that the men had tapped.

"I shall inform his excellency of your arrival as soon as I have, erm, refreshed myself."

He was led upstairs into a sizable library which was totally dark save for a single candle placed upon a desk. Van Heit sat at it, looking much the same as he had the day before, intently scratching on some parchment. Startled by the sudden appearance of a guest, he stood.

"Heer d'Baelen? I do not uh.. expect you at this hour."

He clearly had not expected to be speaking French that night at all. Lawrence bowed deeply as the servant did the same and left them to their business.

"Please forgive my intrusion, lord. I beg your mercy, and your aid. My wife, Diana, whom you have met, has been stolen from me this night."

"Stolen? You mean she was kidnapped? Where did this happen?"

"Just outside, in the streets in front of your warehouse. We were being chased from our room by some cutthroats. She ran to distract them so I could get to safety here. Please, I beg your help, I know you must be able to do something to get her back! They must still be in the city, I-"

"Please be calm, monsieur. Panic will do us no good now. Try to think of who might have such resources and such resentment of you or your wife to do such a thing. Oh, and I must ask, why is it that she was taken and not you as well? Did you manage to effect an escape?"

"I did. I escaped because she distracted them long enough that I could get away. It was the only way I could. And now they have her. They.. They must be working for that cardinal, this is revenge for the divulgence of his plan. There are no others who would do such a thing."

Lawrence's heart sank as the words left his mouth. One small Flemish company could not give ultimatums to the church. Even if their transgressions were made plain to every man and woman in Europe, why would they then return Horo? But why did they take her in the first place?

"I am inclined to believe this, since I heard a commotion outside mine own window, and there are few other powers in this city who are so audacious as to carry out such black handiwork in public. But there is reason to think that this is not the case at all. Are you so sure that you haven't made any other enemies, monsieur d'Baelen?"

"I know of no others. In truth, lord, I was not acquainted with risky endeavor until quite recently. I have spent most of my adulthood as a traveling peddler, dealing in goods of no value. There are none who would see my blood because there is no value to it, no more than the dust of the roads I walk."

Lawrence felt very small and helpless, more so than he ever had before. Marten did not look altogether convinced, but considered his words anyway. His head rested on his folded hands, looking fully imposing and impeccable despite the late hour.

"Well then, supposing that it is the power of the church that is trying to do you away in secret, it would mean that they do not know yet that you have given these contracts to me. This is a possibility, but not one I find very likely. Because, you see, I have already started buying the coins as an exploratory measure. So if our friend knew he had been compromised, he would surely have looked into this, and easily seen that I had done so. So then, what motivation does he have other than petty revenge for taking your wife? And more importantly, what harm does your missing wife do to my business or my investment? From a financial standpoint it makes no sense to apprehend the two of you, as it does nothing to prevent my plans or his own ruination."

"But you- nay, I, could expose their plan if they do not release her... That must be why. You are already invested in their currency, while I have nothing to lose. Exposing him would mean the loss of your profits too. So if she and I are done away with, there would be no danger to his reputation at least."

"That is very astute of you, monsieur. You may very well be correct."

He dispassionately stood and sat down again on the side of his desk, his chin on his hand. Lawrence felt the blood begin to drain from his face.

"...You will do nothing. Or would you silence me as well? I suppose it must be so."

"I am far from a perfect Christian, Lawrence." He spoke slowly, wearily.

"But I am not without a heart, and should I have had a wife taken from me, I know I would feel much the same as you. I do wish I could help, but the truth is that I am not a man of such power. My position here is as little more than an overseer for my father. His company has a modest presence in Liege that has been declining with the years and shows no sign of resurgence. We could not produce an adequate bribe for one of the city councilors, let alone a cardinal. Though I might wish it, I have no means to rescue your wife. Forgive me for my prattling, I'm sure it's no-"

The chamber door resounded with a staccato of knocks, followed immediately by the creak of its opening.

"Forgive the intrusion, lord. This er- letter just arrived. It was left at our door."

"..Let me see."

Startled, he stood from the desk as the servant entered and handed it to him. It looked hastily bound up by a length of ribbon without seal. He opened it and darted his eyes about it perplexedly for a few seconds before turning to Lawrence with a very grim look.

"Perhaps I should read this aloud."

Lawrence managed a nod.

To all parties concerned,

We, the Holy Inquisition of the One True Church, by the authority of the Inquisitor General, and His Holiness, the Supreme Pontiff, have apprehended a person who is under strong suspicion of trafficking with daemons, sorcery, witchery, of making Satanic pacts, of being a childe of Satan, and a number of other blasphemies and affronts to Holy Law which for the sake of brevity are omitted here, whom we understand to be associated with the parties to whom we address this notice.

We inform you that any and all associations with this person or creature that we have now in our custody is considered a grave lapse of faith, and a dire transgression against the Catholic Church. We shall carry out a thorough investigation upon the affairs of the receiving party once a proper confession has been obtained, and will deliver all culpable persons to justice in due time. We let it be known that, in our benevolence, for those who come forward voluntarily to their earned judgment, we will overlook certain unlawful purchases and business transactions of recent in favor of the more serious crime.

By the grace and infinite mercy of the Lord our God, all sins shall be rectified, and all who sin shall taste the joy of salvation beyond the crucible of the world. It is our highest wish that those who stray from the righteous path will find their way back again, in this life or the next.

Christ be with you always.

Sincerely,

Inq. Ptr. Rosario Gaspar,

Representative of the Holy Inquisition in Liege

Marten had begun to pace about the room in obvious unease, brushing off and straightening his vest as if some dirt had just come upon it. Lawrence could scarcely move at all. Eventually, after taking a long time to pause in thought, Marten put down the letter and slowly sat down at his desk.

"...If there was ever the flicker of a doubt that this is a problem beyond my means, it has now been thoroughly snuffed. I knew there would be consequences... But to bring such accusations to bear against your wife is simply... unconscionable. And somehow I have the feeling there is something you have not told me."

Marten's composure had returned quickly, though Lawrence only just so. His knees quaked. Money and ruined reputations were the least of their concerns now. When did the Lord himself issue the edict that his person should be put to ruin and dissolution? When did he become such a fool? Perhaps Horo really was a devil after all. But just then, from the black, crooked pulpits that he had so often scorned, came a sudden and striking inspiration. If there was nothing left to hope, perhaps there was something left to say.

"In truth, sir, there is something you do not know about my wife. It is something we have kept as secret as we possibly could, since the day of our marriage, for our greatest fear is that just such a thing might happen... Forgive me, it is not something I could speak of easily, even to a friend."

His gaze lowered to his feet. Nothing else was left for him to do, but confess.

"My intention is to deliver your lady from harm's way and return her to you, heer Lawrence. Whatever secret she bears, I do solemnly swear upon my honor and good name to keep between us."

Lawrence was quite surprised to hear him utter such words. Not for the strangely supportive interest he had taken in Horo and he, but the certainty with which he pinned his word. A merchant with sense and decent character made no such promises, even as one man before the gallows to another. It was in all ways out of character. But in the dancing of the candle light he thought he saw briefly flashing in his eyes something like the knightly virtue of old. Resolutely, he raised his chin to meet his clear and direct gaze.

"Very well. The truth is that Diana does not hail from Liege, neither this city nor any of the surrounding provinces. She is not actually from the Netherlands at all, which we have been all to careful to disguise for fear of drawing the wrong kind of attention. To divulge her real identity would bring calamity upon us here, in the shadow of the church and all its power. But from these recent and terrible events, I know it is no use trying to hide it any longer."

Lawrence huffed up a deep sigh to invigorate himself as Marten listened with rapt attention.

"I shall never forget the moment I first met my Diana. It was about ten years ago, when I was just out of boyhood, and she still a child. She came into the city with her mother, the two of them traveling alone on foot. They wore rags and looked to be in the most wretched state imaginable. I had no idea at the time who she was, as there are many refugees who come in from the countryside all the time here. But I remembered her face, for it struck me as the most beautiful and pure I had ever seen, even dirty and downcast as it was. A time passed, but I spotted her again in the market. She had a threadbare blanket set out near the entrance and was selling some half-rotted fruit and little handmade things. She was there by herself, so it seemed apparent that her mother had died. She looked utterly destitute, and not one soul paid her any mind at all. In my youthful foolishness I approached her and tried to cheer her up with my company, I even bought a few things from her for many times more than their worth. But it was no use, she was so solemnly tacit that I could hardly provoke a response at all. So great was her pain of heart. But her beauty, even despite her miserable state, was such that I could never bear to leave her be, no matter how hopeless a case she seemed. Almost every day I went to see her, and very slowly she began to warm to me. With much difficulty and pain I learned of her harrowed past. She fled with her mother, her only surviving family, from France, having barely survived the horrible wars and massacres of Protestants there which have only recently subsided. She had seen her father and all her brothers and sisters murdered and defiled by soldiers and bloodthirsty peasants, but still refused to convert, and so for the sake of survival fled here whilst keeping her faith a secret. I felt such pity and sympathy for her that I promised myself that I would never leave her side. So as time passed we began to wander the countryside together, slowly she began to shed her mourning clothes, and her vivacious and captivating personality began to shine through to me, as bright as the sun. We soon wed. But still, the pain of her past has always hung over us. It has never left, even now. Despite what it may appear, she is a very fragile girl, always crying out in her sleep. I fear that being suddenly being taken by these dirty beasts to the clutches of an inquisitor was too much for her poor soul to bear. I fear she may have become hysteric and lost her sense, this being such an awful reminiscence for her. The inquisitor must have realized that she is a Protestant, and so brings these awful charges against her, and us as well. Please, I beseech you to give whatever aid you can, before it is too late."

He surprised himself with the fluency with which he spun the yarn, which was taken in part from a real memory of his, though not one of Horo. Marten was himself captivated and seemed quite moved by the whole performance. He fidgeted nervously and seemed quite distressed. Perhaps she would be proud of him, but thinking of her only disheartened him more. In truth it had done no good at all, for there was no way to get her back anyhow.

"Well monsieur Lawrence, there is one avenue that has yet gone unmentioned. I hesitated before, as it is so far-fetched that I cannot really say anything of its merit, apart from it being the only choice left."

Marten stood and paced to the still open window, gazing into the inscrutable darkness beyond.

"I understand that there is a particular person in the city, with whom I have become familiar through my various agents. It is most interesting, it is said he can make almost anything happen if he but wills it, though I doubt that much is true. He is, however, a man of some influence who is associated with the church in his own.. odd way. I can say with confidence that if there is anyone in at all who might have a chance of getting our dearest lady released, it is he, though I, of course, can vouch for nothing. I understand he is someone with whom you are already acquainted, monsieur Lawrence."

*Also known as Hieronymus Bosch