Back | Next
Contents

Chapter 22

The J-team


Füssen


“So do you think we’ll find Gottesfreund here?” Nick asked as they rode down a wide street in Füssen.

“I wish I could say yes,” his partner said. “Alas, now that he knows he is being watched for, I’ll be very surprised if we catch a glimpse of him. That’s assuming he’s here, rather than someplace like Innsbruck or Nürnberg. That’s also assuming he’s looking for the codex but hasn’t found it. If he’s not here or not looking for the codex, then we’ve wasted a lot of time and concern but the hunt is still on. On another hand, if he’s found it already and is headed home, then our queen has left the board and we are about to be cornered. So if we see him on the streets, at least the game is still in procession. He may know where it is, but not be able to get to it.”

“Indeed,” Nick responded. “So what is our stratagem now?”

Gus blew air through his lips, producing the flapping sound that children loved so much. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

Nick shook his head. “All I know to do is to believe that the codex is here and try to find it. Füssen doesn’t seem large enough that a stranger to town could hide for very long, especially one from Rome or the Tuscany area. His clothing and speech would catch attention.”

“Not the greatest of plans,” Gus observed.

Nick made a sour face. “I know. But do you have any better?”

Gus likewise looked like he’d bitten into a sour fruit. “No, sadly, I do not. And if this is the best idea that the two of us together can produce, then we should turn in our crucifixes to the Father-General and go become anchorites in the Judean desert. At least there we would not be displaying our fecklessness to all those around us, and we might even serve as moderately useful good examples, with hopes of hearing something like ‘Fairly well done, thou mostly faithful servant’ when our time of judgment comes.” His voice dripped sarcasm.

“Oh, come now,” Nick said, trying not to laugh. “It’s not going to be that bad.”

Gus grunted, then said, “Perhaps not, but if we died right now, it wouldn’t be much better than that, either. And this,” he said, pulling Magnus to a halt in the middle of the street, “is our inn, I believe.”

Nick looked up at the signboard swinging in the slight breeze. “All I see is a red blob that looks vaguely like a bird. Is it a robin?”

“No,” Gus said with a chuckle. “The innkeeper’s wife apparently thinks the place should be called The Scarlet Cockerel, but everyone else just calls it The Red Rooster. But I agree, regardless of which name is used, that is a pathetic picture on the sign.” He spat to the side away from Nick, for which Nick was truly thankful. “Let’s get our room, and then begin our work.”

“Lead the way,” Nick said.



Back | Next
Framed