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PLAYING WITH FIRE by Geneva In18th. Century Hungary, an Austrian clerk seeks out a Gypsy woman to obtain a book of magic spells. He succeeds briefly, but then his life is never the same again. Warning, contains rape. This story has some references to events and characters in two of my earlier stories, "The Siege", and "Turnaround". It also bridges the time-span between "The Siege" and "Turkish Delight". I sat, almost numbed, looking at the diary in front of me. If its contents were true, it would mean that some of the Church hierarchy had actually used magic, and that even more of the officials in the Church had been aware of it! I looked around my garret uneasily, just in case someone caught me reading the diary. I should not have had it in my possession at all, and certainly not be reading it, but earlier that day I had been taking a brief break from my clerking work and had been idly snooping around in the garret I had been given for a workspace. A fire had damaged part of the bishop's house and adjacent church buildings, and while a new house, actually more like a small palace, was being built, the furniture that had been saved was piled into the garret that had been my humble domain, even more cramping my workspace. My fingers had been cramped from a long session with the quill pen in the chilly room, and I was walking around the garret shaking and flexing them when, in a corner, partly hidden behind some shelving and stools, an old cabinet caught my attention. It was locked so I took that as a challenge to see what was so important. Eventually I picked the lock with a bent nail and found only several old dust covered books. I was idly flipping through the pages of one when I almost froze. The diary had very interesting information indeed, with some records that might be embarrassing to the Church. Lowly clerks like me were not trusted with such knowledge, and if any of my superiors discovered what I had been doing, my position, my freedom, possibly even my life might be in danger. Still, my curiosity overcame my fears and I read on. After a few pages I sat back, dazed, and thought about the implications. You see, I was reading the diary of a Father Osvald, a former master of a religious order, right here in Vienna. The diary was written in Latin, but that was no problem to a well- trained clerk like me. He had written that, a generation or so ago, just before the Ottoman siege, the order had had some dealings with a woman, a Frau Weissberger. She was a Gypsy, but married to an Austrian. For some reasons, she had voluntarily come to the order to offer the services of a certain book in her possession. The startling thing was that the book had supposedly contained several magic spells! Eventually, as Osvald wrote, he and the woman devised a plan using one of the spells to hopefully blunt the impending attack of the Ottoman on Vienna. Osvald had been careful to get the prior approval of some individuals higher in the hierarchy of the Church. Their permission given, one of the acolytes of the Order, a young man called Emil, barely more than a boy, was read a magic spell from the book. He had fallen unconscious and as the spell worked its effect he had been transformed into a beautiful young woman! They had called her Klara. I shook my head. Surely all of this was nonsense! I gave a snort of total disbelief, but, on rereading it, I reluctantly came to the conclusion that Osvald's account might have been totally genuine. Or at least he believed what he had written. I read further. Osvald had written about his own shock, then doubts and soul searching when first approached by Frau Weissberger with her book, his tentative, cautious discussions with a superior, his selection of a suitable acolyte, his astonishment at the beauty of Klara and then his misgivings about sending her into danger. The plan had been for this young woman to be smuggled into the Ottoman territories and inserted by the Osvald's agents into the household, even into the harem, of an Ottoman military commander, a pasha, with the idea of assassinating him. Hopefully this might thwart a possible Ottoman attack on Vienna. That seemed reasonable. If the changeling Klara had been inserted to a harem, she might well have been able to assassinate the pasha at an unguarded moment. Of course, as a harem slave, her own life would then have been worthless. In a footnote, Osvald reported that the target actually had died, although he had heard rumors that it was by an accidental cannon explosion and not by any actions of his agent. He had recorded his sorrow and his continuing prayers for Klara as she never returned to Vienna and he presumed that she had died. I sat back in my cubbyhole and thought about the implication. But I looked out of the narrow window and saw the streets of Vienna, busy as usual with the citizens going about their usual affairs, with the same street noises, shouts of vendors, carts and coaches and the citizens' conversations. Surely this was reality, not that fanciful account in a diary such as I had just read? I shook my head. I wondered if I needed some fresh air. The account surely had to be nonsense. No sensible person believed in magic anymore. And what good would have been a spell that changed a man into a woman? The diary entry must have been written with tongue in cheek. And yet, why would the diary have then been locked away? The paranoia of some of the higher echelons....or someone keeping information hidden from them? When I heard the heavy footsteps of my old supervisor, Herr Braun, trudging up the stairs, wheezing as usual, I pushed the diary into a drawer and resumed my work at the accounts on the desk. Then I noticed that I had left the cabinet door ajar! Braun pushed some more work on my desk but to my relief did not notice anything amiss. I could barely keep from trembling. My mind was desperately thinking of an excuse in case he noticed the opened cabinet, but he merely grunted something about the street noise and carefully made his way back down the creaky stairs. He had barely gone when I scurried with the diary to the cabinet and relocked it. That next week I was occupied with copying more accounts and some correspondence with local artisans and craftsmen. The bishop needed ideas of costs and estimates from various builders for his new palace. They were now at the stage of furnishing the rooms and stocking his kitchen with new utensils and wares. Finally my curiosity got the better of me again and when I knew I was unlikely to be disturbed I pulled another book out from the cabinet. One was much older than the rest, and, like the diary, written, not printed, in Latin. I knew Latin as part of my training and easily read through the closely written pages. The contents had been kept secret. At least three of the volumes recorded investigations and trials of witches and heretics in the fifteenth century. I shuddered as I read the tortures used to extract confessions. Another book told of an investigation of the sexual practices of some aberrant monastery in eastern Bohemia. Yet another journal recounted some of the investigations into the Blood Countess of Hungary. Her notoriety had been known, even in Vienna. A newer book told of the fight against heretics in the part of Hungary liberated from the Ottoman. The Church had managed to get some Reform preachers expelled and sent to the galleys. The last book I opened had some history of the German religious wars of last century. One chapter commented on the happenings in a town in Bavaria, which had been the centre of what was once a small, but influential state but which just suddenly fell apart, sometime in the 1600's. A footnote to the record said there was a legend that a Gypsy sorceress used a spell book to suddenly change most of the important men, the leaders of the society, into women. A witness, a nun, said that a Gypsy woman had read a spell to an unsuspecting audience and in minutes a catastrophic change affected all of the men. Women in the audience had been unaffected, except that most became more comely. No one knew what had happened to the Gypsy perpetrator. She had disappeared in the resulting chaos. Almost two hundred men, civic and religious leaders, merchants, and military had been affected. Many of the older men had died, but the book reported that those who survived were changed to beautiful women. With most of its business and administrative leaders gone, or made ineffectual, the town fell into chaos. Similarly the loss of the local religious leaders put the local church organization into chaos as well. The book's author had totally dismissed the nun's account, and when I checked other records in our library there were no such events recorded. In fact, the records were totally blank for that time period in the area. On thinking about it, these blanks were suspicious. This suggested to me that the news of the event had been rigorously suppressed and any records removed. I pored through some other records of convent activities and finally found the nun's name in records of a convent with strict rules of silence. It looked to me as if she had been hidden away. I thought back to Osvald's diary. It had recorded the story of an individual male being changed to a female, with a Gypsy spell book involved. I wondered if these events were connected and had even involved the same book. It did seem significant that Gypsies were involved in both events. When it was safe for me I read over Osvald's diary more carefully. The more I thought about it the more likely it seemed that there was a real connection. Osvald had noted too that the book also contained other spells, some used for healing various ailments. About a year after the siege was lifted, Osvald wrote that he had attempted to contact Frau Weissberger again, but that she had disappeared. Osvald said that his investigators had confirmed that the Frau was born a Gypsy, but attended a church here in Vienna, St. Martin's, with her husband. There were even six children baptized there, but she had stopped attending after her husband was killed in the siege. Osvald supposed that she might have gone back to her Gypsy relatives, and he abandoned further search as being impossible. I knew that the discovery of the use of a spell by one valued in the Church such as Father Osvald would have caused much consternation and soul searching, especially as it was Gypsy magic. I thought about these times of crisis in the past. I suppose Osvald and the others taking part in the scheme were desperate. After all, it was for the preservation of Austria and perhaps of Christendom. The authorities would have been willing to use all means to preserve them. The more I thought about it, if that spell book really existed, it might have a lot of potential. Its possessor could use it to get rid of male enemies, or at least make them ineffective. And if it had a spell that made women more attractive, that would be a good source of revenue. Women would be keen to use any spells that made them more beautiful. Perhaps the other spells in the book could be used to make money as well. If they cured ailments they would be in great demand. The problem would be in keeping the spell book's existence discreet enough. I would need to find out the whereabouts of this Frau Weissberger, if she were still alive, and to get the magic book from her. Yet, Osvald and all his resources had failed in his attempt. Perhaps it would be totally impossible. The events had happened more than a generation ago and the siege had disrupted the whole city, even the whole of the country. Frau Weissberger might even be dead. If she had left the city, she could be anywhere. Over the next few weeks I began a systematic search of the church records. It was handy that I was a clerk and knew my way around the many records and had complete access to them. When Herr Braun asked about it I just said that I was interested in finding information on the history of the various parishes. He smiled indulgently and left me to it. "Provided it does not interfere with your duties," he warned. It was tedious work, but after some weeks I found the information I wanted. According to the records, Frau Weissberger and her husband had lived on Albrechtstrasse and attended the church of St. Martin. Luckily I knew the priest there, Father Gabriel. I had had some dealings with him in the past. All the time I wondered why the spell book had not been confiscated from Frau Weissberger after its use. The authorities would have known the book had great potential, although with some danger too. The Order and the Church would have been desperate, given the Ottoman threat, and perhaps because the book's use had been offered voluntarily they had not seized it. I found that Father Osvald had died more than ten years ago and his diary appeared to be the sole source of information. If I needed more information about the affair I would have to question some of the men who were acolytes at the time, and who knew brother Emil. It took some further weeks of discreet questioning before I found one former acolyte, a religious brother called Kurt, who worked as an administrator at a school for the sons of nobility. He only remembered Emil being selected for some 'momentous task', as it had been described. He confirmed that the young man Emil had disappeared and never seen again. Father Gabriel's church, St. Martin's, was a fair sized building in the south part of the city. The neighborhood looked moderately prosperous, although not affluent, so it was likely that the Weissberger family had been reasonably well off. I wondered what Herr Weissberger had done for a living. How had he come to marry a Gypsy, of all people? I walked into the gloom of the church, crossing myself dutifully, and looked around. A few old women and some men were praying in the pews. I saw an old priest puttering about by the altar and as I approached him he peered at me suspiciously. "Father Gabriel?" I asked. "Yes, who wants me?" "My name is Gunter Haider. I met you some months ago when I was making an inventory. I work for the bishop as a clerk. He sent me here for information on a woman who attended here many years ago." He squinted at me through his glasses. "Ah yes, Herr Haider, I remember you. Yes, what can I do for you, my son." " Father, I am looking for information on a former parishioner that was here before the siege, a Maria Weissberger." He looked at me over his spectacles. "My goodness, before the siege! That is a long time ago. I wonder what the bishop needs that information for?" He stroked his beard. " But strangely, I remember the woman. She had a very striking appearance. I was just a young priest here at the time. " He closed his eyes in thought. "You know, I seem to remember that someone else was looking for her, it must have been a long time ago as well, but anyway, I am sure I remember about the Frau. What did you want to know?" "First, what was her full name?" He shook his head. "Only Maria Weissberger, She used no other names when I knew her, but I found out later that was not her original name. When I first met her she was just Galila, a Gypsy name, but when she was baptized just before her marriage she took the name Maria, and, of course, her husband's surname after marriage." "Do you know where she was from?" "Who knows? She was a Gypsy and these people are wanderers." He thought for a bit. "She was a striking woman, that Maria. If I remember correctly her accent was not Viennese, perhaps Hungarian, but then as a Gypsy she would have used a Gypsy language too." "What were their children?" "She had three boys, Karl, Heinrich and Josef, and two daughters, Magdalena and Hildegarde. Oh yes, and a younger one called Gertrud. They called her Trudy. So, three daughters too." All were fairly ordinary Austrian names. Still, if Maria Weissberger had rejoined her Gypsies, then these names might stand out if any of her children had accompanied her. "Can you describe the Frau?" "She was average height, dark complexioned, but snowy white hair, a handsome woman when she attended here. She must have been a beauty in her youth." He smiled slightly. "Yes, yes, I know I had taken a vow of celibacy, but still, even as a priest I could appreciate the beauty of a woman. By now she would be around eighty and I doubt if she is still alive." He was right. Not many lived to eighty, and a wandering Gypsy's life did not encourage long life. I shook my head. This was probably a totally useless chase. These events, even if true, were too long ago, but then, the investigation might lead to something useful. "Where did they live?" I asked. I wondered if someone at the Weissberger's former house might know. He pointed out of the church door. " Very close, three streets over, by the market. It is a green painted house with yellow shutters. The only one that colour." Thanking the priest, I walked over to the market, dodging urchins as I did so, and easily found the house. I looked at it. The door was open and a large woman was sweeping the dust from the front step into the street. "Can I help you?" she said, when she noticed me approaching. Her tone was cold, suspicious. It was time to lie. I used, what was, I hoped, a Linz accent. "Excuse me, Frau, it is just that I am a visitor to the city. I am from Linz, but my parents used to live here. They used to talk about their days in Vienna. They described it well. That was, oh, about forty years ago that they lived here." Her look softened. "Ah, we have only lived here for about thirty. Since some years or so after the siege. My children were all born here." "Oh, so you did not purchase it from my parents. Oh, I am Hans Schmidt." It might be unwise to give my real name. She thought for a moment. "No, my husband bought it from a Frau Weissberger, a widow. The Weissbergers were friends of friends." "Ah yes," I said, pretending to think back. "I remember now. My father mentioned selling to a family called Weissberger. She left the city?" "Yes, it was a year or so after the siege. Her husband was killed during the siege, a shot from an Ottoman musketeer, I suppose." I gestured an appropriate expression of sympathy. "Do you know where she went?" I asked casually. " I suppose she would go west, as far from the Ottoman as possible?" "No, somewhere to the east, I think." The Frau gave an expression of disapproval and sniffed. "She was a Gypsy so perhaps she went to be with her own people. I believe too that Frau Weissberger took her orphaned granddaughters with her when she left. I think that the Frau's other children were married to Viennese, but I have no idea where they live now." "Gypsies!" I said, giving her a shocked look. I bade her good day and walked across the street. I had noticed a tavern there. Perhaps Herr Weissberger would have used it. I went in, to slake my own thirst and my curiosity. The tavern keeper was a gray haired brawny man in his fifties with a younger woman who looked as if she should be his daughter. She looked quite attractive in her dirndl skirt and low-cut blouse, but I thought it better to keep my eyes off her. I ordered a pot of lager from the tavern keeper and as he passed it to me he looked me over. "New in this area?" "Yes, just passing through. I had doings in this part of the city." I gave him the story about being from Linz. The tavern was not too busy and when we got talking more I was able to slip in a question about the Weissbergers as if my parents had known the family in the past. "Yes," he answered. ' The widowed Frau Weissberger left the city a long time ago. Haven't seen or heard about her for years. I must ask her son about her." My ears pricked up. "Yes, that's Josef, isn't it?" I guessed. "No, that's Heinrich. Actually he's in here from time to time. He's got a place in a lane a bit over to the east. He's a coppersmith." I wanted to ask more but he might have become suspicious. At least I now had a name and an occupation. I went back to my garret and after some thought I checked which church served that area. It was served by 'Our Lady of Victory' Church. I would be better to ask the priest there what he knew before I approached Heinrich. The more prior information I had, the better. I would also be better to get a letter of introduction to the priest in charge without arousing the suspicions of my supervisors. I pulled out an old project I had been working on sporadically, an architectural record of the churches in the city. Yes, it said that 'Our Lady of Victory' had some interesting design features, so with that as an excuse I approached the head clerk and told him about it. "What a good idea!" he exclaimed. He nodded. "Yes, Gunter, a wonderful idea. I will send a message out to him, or even better, I will write you a note of introduction to the priest in charge. I believe that is Father Jakob." Later that afternoon I sat with Father Jakob, a small man with a fussy manner, in a small room off his church. He read my note carefully and sat back. "Well, Herr Haider, that is an interesting project. Yes, I am very proud of several features of the church. Let me give you a tour." I endured the tour for several hours, meandering through the main section and the side chapels, the other rooms and even the bell tower. Fortunately Father Jakob was in a garrulous mood and from architecture, to the church repairs, to the siege, and to his parishioners, I was finally able to gradually steer the conversation to the Weissbergers. "Yes, Heinrich Weissberger, he and his wife Maria are regular churchgoers. They have five children too. I have never seen any more of his family, though." "Do you know where they live?" "Yes, on Cupfergasse. He is a coppersmith, you know. Many others in the same trade work in that area. Heinrich does some nice work. I have used some vessels that he made, in the church." "What sort of man is he?" I did not want to approach Heinrich until I knew more about him. "Friendly enough, and a responsible citizen. He sings quite well. Two of his sons have been altar boys." I needed a good reason to visit Heinrich and work into his confidence and thus get information on his family. I remembered that the new palace would need utensils, and as Heinrich was a coppersmith, perhaps I could approach him that way. When I raised the matter, old Braun even complimented me on my forethought. "That is good thinking, Gunter. Here, I will give you a few sketches of some copper pans and other vessels that will be needed for the bishop's kitchen. But make sure you visit several coppersmiths in the area to get the best price." He wrote a note on a piece of paper. "Here is a letter of introduction, and... ," he rummaged in a pile of notes, "here are some of the styles the bishop likes. Tell the coppersmiths that you are in his employment and you are looking for estimates of the cost. Any of them should be glad of the work." To avoid suspicion I first visited two other coppersmiths before approaching Heinrich. I had little difficulty finding him at his house on Cupfergasse, and even less difficulty in getting him into a conversation. A big, bluff, friendly man, he even admitted, without any prompting on my part, that his interest in coppersmithing had come from his mother's family, "Gypsies!" he bellowed, with barely a trace of embarrassment, a broad grin on his face. "They are skilled in metalworking, you know." "You still see much of your mother?" I asked casually. "Alas, she went off into Hungary, near a place called Godollo, and I heard that she died, it must be ten years ago. Her age, eighty years when she died! But such a good age!" He shrugged. "My mother was a full-blooded Gypsy. My father died in the siege and she moved to be with her own people, into that part of Hungary after the Ottoman had been driven out. My oldest brother Karl died in the siege too, and his wife too, God rest their souls. They had two daughters, Sophia and Theresa. We wanted to take them in but my mother insisted on looking after them. So the girls went with my mother and must still live with the Gypsies. I don't know why, as all of us were married and settled here. They could have lived with any of us. We would have brought the girls up properly." He sighed. "After my mother died we have had little contact with them. And then again, there has been much unrest in Hungary. "Anyhow, Herr Schmidt, I'm sure I bore you with my family. Let me look at these sketches." He laid the sketches on a bench, scrutinized them carefully and made a few notations on a piece of paper. He looked up at me. "Yes, I think I could do these soon and I am sure my price will suit the bishop. Let me write it out for you." I had learned a lot from the garrulous coppersmith. I thanked him and made my way back to the palace. Fortunately his price was the lowest of any of the coppersmiths I had asked for estimates. Of course, I would be expected to bargain him down further. It was a pity, but not unexpected, that Frau Weisberger was dead. Still, there were these granddaughters and perhaps they now had possession of the book. I would now have to look for them. I found a map in our library. Godollo lay east of Buda, the main city of Hungary. I could take a boat down the Danube to Buda and then it would take about a day or so travel to Godollo, depending on state of the roads. I wondered if it would be safe enough now. I knew that a few years ago the empire had some trouble with a Hungarian rebel called Rakoczi. Rebellion made me hesitate. It was the last thing I needed, to have to make my way through a countryside that was still unsettled by rebellion and its aftermath, but I had no alternative. I also thought of my approach. Even if I did find Sophia or Theresa, the Weissberger granddaughters, what then? They would be grown women now themselves, and could be married and with families. Should I steal the book from them, or have them detained on some pretext, or what? Father Osvalds's diary had said that the book was quite small, easily hidden, so it would be hard to find. I was still scheming my course of action when Herr Braun called me to his office. "Gunter? I want you to go and see this Heinrich again. " He passed me Heinrich's estimate for the copper vessels. "Tell him I approve of his work and that I want him to make the vessels on this list. Also, some could be used at the churches. Get him to make three dozen in this style." He wrote out an order on a piece of paper. " This is a good contract for him." He was right. The contract would put Heinrich in a good mood and might help me get more information from him. Herr Braun looked over his pince- nez at me. "You have done well, Gunter. You seem to have a talent for this. You are showing much initiative. There has been quite an improvement in you these last months. Perhaps we can find more challenging work for you." As I bowed obsequiously I wondered if it would mean any improvement in my wages. I was surprised that he had not asked me to try to bargain with Heinrich to get a lower price. Heinrich greeted me effusively when I knocked at his door. "Ah, Herr Schmidt! So perhaps I have a contract?" "Yes, the bishop is very pleased. He wants you to make the pans and other stuff as we discussed earlier. Also, three dozen vessels for the other churches in the area. The price is also suitable." His eyes lit up. "Wonderful!" He clapped me on the back. "Come in and meet my wife and the family. " He introduced me to a stout woman." This is my wife Heidi, and here is my sister Trudy. Trudy is visiting from another part of the city. Her husband Johan has a dray business. "Trudy," he said, "Herr Schmidt works for the Bishop. He has now ordered some pieces from me. I was telling him how I learned my trade from some Gypsies, and that our mother was a Gypsy." Trudy was a slim, dark haired woman with a shrewd face. Her reaction was strange. She almost seemed annoyed or shocked at first, but a quick smile took her face. "But we are all good Austrians now," she laughed. "I was also telling Herr Schmidt that one of our nieces lives with Gypsies just to the east of Godollo." "Yes," she laughed again, "among all these wild Hungarians." Her mouth kept a smile, but it did not reach her eyes. The conversation went well, but, even with some judicious prompting, I was unable to get any more information about their niece. Trudy appeared to be friendly, like her brother, but a bit more reserved. I saw her looking at me a few times with a calculating expression, but when I looked back she smiled quickly. I wondered if she had taken a fancy to me. She was a good-looking woman too. I felt quite flattered. I soon felt relaxed in this happy family. Heinrich brought a small cask of beer and we drank, toasting each other. Soon Heinrich and then his children began to sing for us. Then we heard a noise from another room and Heinrich's son Franz entered with a violin. Heinrich grinned. "It is my son, learning to play the violin. Such a noise!" He roared with laughter. It was obvious that the young man had little talent. I endured his scraping as much as I could and, pretending to be impressed, I complimented him. Unfortunately that meant another few minutes of painful listening. At last I could stand it no longer and leaned over to him. "See, " I told Franz, "Try this way, " and in fact with a little instruction the boy got a better sound. "You are an expert fiddler, Herr Schmidt?" asked Gertrud. In fact I could play the violin quite well, but I shrugged modestly. I really wanted to prevent the boy from playing again. To show off my own skills, I began to play a lively fiddle tune. They all clapped and I played several other pieces, the family clapping in time. Finally, as it was getting late, I bade the family goodbye and headed home to my own mean lodging. I thought about the latest meeting. I had established a good rapport with them, which might help me get more information in the future. I was pleased that I had met Trudy but I wished I could have got her surname. I had no opportunity to bring it up. If I had it I could have checked on her as well in the records. My next problem was how to arrange the long trip to Godollo. My supervisor would almost certainly not agree to my leaving. In fact he would be more likely to ask awkward questions and I had to decide whether it was worth the risk of abandoning my job. I might travel all that way and be unsuccessful in finding any trace of Frau Weissberger's family. There was also the major problem of actually how to get the magic book from her descendants, even if I found any. I thought about it for a week or so, when the decision was taken out of my hands. My first clue was to come into work one day to see that all of the piled up furniture was more neatly arranged, and then to discover that the bookcase with the forbidden books was nowhere to be found. Then I was called in to see, not Herr Braun, but the head of security for the diocese, Herr Weber. He received me cordially enough, asking how my work was going and about my personal life. Then he waved a paper in front of me. It was the estimate of the coppersmithing that I had obtained from Heinrich. "Tell me Gunter, how did you come to visit this Heinrich Weissberger?" So I knew he was suspicious, but I put on a guileless face. I shrugged. "No particular reason, sir. I had been asked to get estimates, and he was one of several I visited. I trust all is in order?" "Yes, his estimate seems very reasonable. But tell me, I was speaking to Father Jakob, of Our Lady of Victory. He said you had visited there asking about the Weissberger family." I began to feel uncomfortable. "Uh, I was on a project about the church architecture but I also spoke to him about the Weissbergers. I wanted to know more about the background, to see if they were trustworthy. I heard that they were partly Gypsy. " "Yes Gunter, trustworthiness is very important." He looked at me steadily and although I was quaking internally, I tried to remain impassive. "You will have noticed that we have started removing the Bishop's furnishings from your workspace. Some is quite high quality. Did you examine any of it?" "No, Excellency, I have too much work to do. In fact I am glad to see that it will be removed. It will give me more room to lay out my accounts and ledgers." "Well, Gunter, you may return to your work," he said finally. I bowed and left, but as I made my way across the courtyard to the street, I caught sight of another cleric coming along another corridor. It was Father Kurt, the former acolyte of the Order whom I had asked about Emil. This was too much of a coincidence. By some means they had discovered my activities. I had no doubt they would soon interrogate me more thoroughly. It was time to get out. I would have to set off to Hungary and look for the book. I had nothing left to lose. It would be difficult, but even if I was unsuccessful in finding the book, I could read and write. I was a trained clerk and could find employment elsewhere. I hurried back to my lodging and removed my few possessions, including my violin. For safety I spent that night in an inn. So, some days later, after a slow passage on a sailing barge down the Danube to Buda and three day's walk, I found myself near Godollo. I had brought my violin with me as I had heard that Gypsies were fond of music, and I thought that I might be a more acceptable if I posed as an itinerant musician. I did not know any Hungarian, but I knew that there were German-speaking settlers in the area and I hoped that enough of the other population would have a rudimentary knowledge of German. I stopped at the first small house in a village just to the east of Godollo. From the inside I heard domestic sounds, clanking pots and a shrieking infant. When I knocked on the door it was opened by a young woman with a squalling child held in her arms. I introduced myself in German. The woman answered in fluent, but strongly accented German. I was about to ask her about any Gypsies when she called out, "Jakob?" and a man in dark garb came to the door. An older man, also in dark clothing hovered in the background, looking at me suspiciously. The first man looked at me enquiringly. "Good afternoon, sir," I said. " I am Hans Schmidt. I come from Vienna. Perhaps you can help me. I am looking for a Gypsy group." I gave a false story about the Austrian authorities trying to make an estimate of the numbers of Gypsies in the Hungarian territories. I even had to be careful how I phrased that. I knew that some Hungarians were resentful of the increasing Austrian influence on their lives, but I reasoned that he would not be troubled about releasing information about Gypsies. His manner was cold, but correct. I wondered who he was. He certainly did not look like a peasant or tradesman. His clothing was much too dark. It was too dark for a merchant either. He eyed my own clothing and I could see the scepticism in his eyes. My outfit certainly did not look like the clothing of any official. "I am really an itinerant musician," I blurted out. "The authorities thought that I might arouse less suspicion than an official." That seemed to reassure him. "Well, Herr Schmidt, I have heard that there is a group of Gypsies just a few hours to the south of us." He gave me directions and added, " They seem to have been settled there for some time. But I wish you good fortune in counting them as many of them seem to come and go." I gave him profuse thanks and set off, aware that the man, and now a few villagers were watching me. I stopped at a small tavern to eat and to think about my strategy. My task would be difficult. Even if I did find the Gypsies, I would have to be accepted by them. Then I would have to identify the woman and worm my way into her confidence so that I could steal the book, then escape from the Gypsies and get back to Vienna. I found the group of Gypsies easily enough. As the man had said, a group was nicely settled in a small valley. They had even built some huts. These looked fairly substantial so maybe the Gypsies were hoping to settle there. I wondered if they would be successful. It was more likely that some landowner would eject them once the Austrian administration became more established. So how could I get their trust, enough to find the former Frau Weissberger or her granddaughter Sophia and get my hands on the book? Even that would be difficult enough as Sophia would probably be married and perhaps even have taken a Gypsy name. I decided to be bold about it. I took out my violin and began to play some lively tunes, slowly making my way into the camp. I was still some distance from the camp when two, five, and eventually a dozen or more urchins ran to me. As I slowly walked into the camp, playing all the time, they surrounded me, crying with delight, and followed me in a kind of procession. I must have looked vaguely like the Pied Piper of myth. Two bearded swarthy men came to stand in front of me, but although wary, they did not appear hostile. I acknowledged them with lifted eyebrows then finished my tune and smiled at them. I was relieved to see them grinning back. One slapped my back and spoke to me but I did not understand at all. I suppose it was in Hungarian or a Gypsy language. I replied in German and immediately heard words of welcome in German. "We cannot offer you any money, fiddler, but you are welcome to have a meal with us. Even stay with us a day or two. You play well. You sound like an expert. Perhaps you will play for us some more?" After a meal I was relaxed and played several other tunes. Some of the young men and girls danced around me. Eventually I stopped and despite their good-hearted protests I waved my hand to show I needed a rest. We soon got talking. "Have you been in this area long?" I casually asked a man sitting by me, one of those able to speak German. I gestured to the collection of huts and tents. Slowly I brought the conversation round to any of their contacts with Vienna. "No, we have not much contact with Vienna. We try to keep out of the way of Austrian authorities, especially the army. Their tolerance for us is limited. What about you?" "I make my living playing, and I have traveled all over Austria. I have been in Vienna for some years and now I try further East." An older woman, in her fifties I supposed, served me some thick, spiced vegetable stew from the pot. She brushed straggly hair from her face. "Sophia over there, she was from Vienna." She pointed to a woman in a faded blue dress hunched over the fire. "She was born there but her grandmother brought her to live with us." She called out but the woman just nodded her head in acknowledgement, straightened her back, walked to one of the huts and disappeared inside. It appeared she did not want to talk to me. I could hardly believe my good fortune. That had to be one of the women I was looking for! She had looked as if she was about thirty or so years old. She was quite pretty, and her complexion was not nearly as swarthy as some of the others. That matched too. The Weissberger granddaughter could have been only about one quarter Gypsy. Later I saw a man, lean, swarthy and bearded go into the hut too. However, I hid my annoyance. So Sophia was probably married. That meant there was a man around and it would be more difficult to get the book. I would need either to get her trust, which might take a long time, or search their hut when they were out, and with two of them around that would be unlikely. To make it worse, four children aged about ten and under crowded round the couple. Children made it even more difficult. I thought about possible courses of action. I remembered that Osvald had written that the book also contained healing spells too. If I had an injury, and Sophia volunteered to heal it with the book, I might have a better chance of getting it. On the other hand, if she did not have a magic book, or chose not to help me, I would have a painful injury for nothing. That was likely, given that she seemed to be avoiding me. Also, I have to say, the sight and thought of blood, my own especially, always made me feel ill. I might be able to get word to the Austrian authorities that Sophia and her husband had been stealing or involved in some other crime. Then they would get arrested, and their goods seized. Maybe I could say I was working on the bishop's behalf and then question them to see if they had the book. Then, on thinking, about it, there were too many possibilities for that to go wrong. I had no official documents, and word might actually get back to the bishop. I had aroused his suspicions enough anyway. The next days with the Gypsies were very frustrating. Sophia was definitely avoiding me. Any time she did appear I watched her carefully, but at no time did I see any use of a magic book, or even if one still existed. I knew I would have to abandon my quest as I would soon wear out my welcome with the Gypsies, so I let it be known that I was moving on. I now began to worry about my own future as I would have to get back to Austria, find different work and keep out of the way of the authorities in case awkward questions were asked. I cursed to myself in frustration. The whole trip had been absolutely fruitless and I had been left with an uncertain future. The Gypsies were friendly enough, but none had invited me into their huts or tents, and as it was not cold I had been sleeping in the open air. That last night I suddenly awoke. There was a faint light in the eastern sky. I listened but heard nothing. Then a dog near me began to growl. A half moon lit the clearing in the woods enough for me to see. There were no sounds from the Gypsies. I idly wondered about sneaking into Sophia's hut to look for the book when she and her family were asleep, but that would have been too dangerous, if not impossible with the presence of her family, and I had no idea where any book might be hidden or even if it still existed. My thoughts were interrupted by a group of riders galloping into the clearing. I heard two gunshots and saw bare swords and burning torches and almost immediately the screaming of women and children filled the air. Two Gypsies who ran out were immediately ridden down. I ran to the side of the clearing and cowered as low as I could in some bushes, aware of Sophia and her family huddled close by me. A rider put a torch to the thatch roof of their hut. I leaped up, and pulled the poles with the burning thatch off the roof, but a rider was galloping towards me. Sophia's daughter had followed me and was right in his path. For some reason I noticed a gold chain round his neck. I threw one of the poles at the rider. I was lucky: it struck him on the forehead and he almost fell, but recovered. However, the girl was now out of his path. He looked at me with fury twisting his features and I had a sudden glimpse of horse's hooves and things went dark. I awoke with Sophia bending over me. I was dazed, my eyes were blurred and my head hurt. When I put my hand to it I felt it sticky with blood. I looked round. Dawn was just breaking. The camp was in chaos, some wagons knocked over and the contents strewn about. Many huts were burned or damaged. It looked like a whirlwind had coursed through it. A man with a deep cut on his shoulder was groaning on the ground. Over by an upturned wagon two children lay stretched out, two frantic women screaming and wailing over them. I looked at one child, a boy, dressed only in rags. His chest was crushed by a horse's hoof. The other child, a young girl, lay quiet, in shock, her leg bent under her. I saw the frantic mother carry her into a tent. I tried to struggle to my feet, but Sophia held me down. "Just a minute, Herr Schmidt. You have been injured but I will fix that soon. But there are some more injured than you. Be patient and I will soon be back." I lay back and watched as the Gypsies began to right their camp. One man, sitting under a tree, was bare to the waist. His shoulder was covered with a heavily bloodstained bandage. In the background I heard a child wailing. I watched Sophia skirt some debris and make her way to one of the huts where I had seen the injured child carried into. In a minute I heard fresh crying from the hut, then quickly stopped. About ten minutes later Sophia reemerged, and was escorted to another tent. A few minutes later she appeared at the door of this hut, and crossed to the man with the heavily bandaged shoulder. He was also taken inside. This visit took longer. She must have been with him about an hour before she reemerged and walked to her own hut. I saw her husband come to meet her, embrace her and try to take her to their hut but she shook her head and made her way to me. "Thank you, Herr Schmidt. You may have saved my daughter's life. I am very grateful Now let me look at your head." She washed it with some warm water and, tilting my head gently, probed it it. She grimaced. " It looks bad, but there is nothing that time will not fix. However, perhaps I can help it heal quicker so you can be on your way. Come over here." I suddenly noticed something. " I must do something first," I gasped, and lurched over to where I had been sleeping before the attack. I saw some splintered wood and I grimaced, holding the pieces up helplessly. My violin had been smashed in the chaos. I let the pieces fall from my hand. It was beyond repair. Now one of the few ways I could earn some money was gone. Sophia understood. " I am very sorry about your violin, Herr Schmidt." I shrugged. "A loss for me, but your people have suffered a greater loss." She nodded gravely. "Thank you for your sympathy, Herr Schmidt. Now please come with me. Here, into my hut." Her manner was now more courteous, and almost friendly, in contrast to the coldness of the previous days. She was very attractive and I began to feel uncomfortable. I wondered how possessive her husband would be. He looked at me with narrowed eyes. "This is my husband Jamel," she said. Jamel looked at me suspiciously, but I greeted him with as friendly a face as I could. "Jamel. Can I speak with you?" she asked. They disappeared out of the door and I endured the stares of the four children. I heard Sophia and Jamel discussing something. She returned in a minute. " Herr Schmidt. My husband agrees that I should help you. Can you lie back?" I could barely pretend indifference when she took a small book from her pocket, turned to a page and began to read. "What is the book?" I asked, but she held up her hand for me to keep quiet. As she read a feeling of triumph came over me. She was reading a magic spell! No doubt from the very book that I was seeking. I was sure of it, the one I had wanted. So it still existed! She read slowly, in a sequence of strange words that were unlike anything I had ever heard. She finished and looked at me expectantly. " What was that?" I asked again but before she answered I flinched at a fresh stab of pain at my temple. Then almost immediately, the sting changed to a pleasant warmth, then only a dull feeling, and that was gone too. Sophia examined my head. "See. She held a piece of polished metal to me. "Have a look. You will be able to be on your way soon." I squinted in the mirror and just gaped. The wound was gone. I felt at my head and only felt a faint scar. "What did you do? I asked again. But she only shook her head and gave a slight smile. "Never mind, Herr Schmidt. Now, will you eat with us?" Their hut was very small, with a small bed in a corner and bundles of rags for their children. A small fire smoldered in one corner, with only a hole in the roof to let smoke out. We had just finished eating a stew with some flat bread when we were interrupted by another woman. I did not understand what they were saying, but I understood that it was another serious matter. Sophia went to a small chest and took out an ornately carved box. Her back was to me so I did not see what she removed from the box, but she thrust something small into a pocket in her apron, I feigned disinterest but I was sure that she had taken the book out again for another healing. She shook her head to me in apology." Excuse me, Herr Schmidt, but I have to go and help yet another child." Her husband shrugged casually as she left. "It is just some medical matter. Another child needs attention and Sophia has some healing arts." I touched my healed wound. "I can see that." Jamel took my hand. "Thank you for your help. You probably saved my daughter's life. We are grateful to you." "That attack was terrible. It was unprovoked. Such callousness." He spat on the earth floor. "Yes, the innocent get caught in unsettled times. Many resent us anyway. There is little authority, and what there is hardly concerned about any troubles to the likes of us. I think we would be better to leave this place." Like Sophia, Jamel spoke German fluently and soon we were talking about the politics and unrest in Hungary, the problems of itinerants in making a living and finally onto my own problems, now that my violin was smashed. I was describing how I might make another violin when Sophia returned. I barely feigned disinterest when I saw her put the book back into the little carved box. So what I wanted could be almost within my grasp. I was so tantalizingly close to it. How could I get it? Sophia took a drink of water. " At last I think I am done for today. There was much need of my skills today. Unfortunately I was unable to help one poor little boy. She wiped her eye and gave a brave smile at me. "So, Herr Schmidt, You are feeling better? A great pity about your violin. I liked listening to your playing. You played it well. My feet felt like dancing." She gave a forced grin and lightly danced from foot to foot. "See even though my feet are sore, your music can still inspire me. So you are from Vienna? What brings you here into Hungary?" Her German was also quite fluent. "Oh, I am just a wandering musician. I try to make my living playing the fiddle. I have been all over Austria and I thought I would try new pastures." " I hear that Vienna is a beautiful city. I have some family who live there. I occasionally feel I should visit them sometime, but I don't really like cities. It is growing fast?" She smiled. " I was born in Vienna, but my parents died in the siege and I was brought up by my grandmother. She brought me to live with these Gypsies." Even more proof that Sophia was the right one! "Does your Grandmother remember much of Vienna?" I asked casually. "No. Well, I mean I cannot say. She died some years ago." It was now too late for me to be on my way, and I was thankful for an invitation to stay a night with them. As I lay in the hut I thought about my task. In a way the chaos in the camp had probably helped me. It was certain that Sophia had used some healing magic, and from the very book I wanted. I wondered about our conversation. Sophia had appeared to be speaking freely, yet there was something about her manner that was too calculating. But I shook my head. Maybe it was just my imagination. It had been a tiring day. I tried to think of a plan to get hold of the book but exhaustion took me and I fell asleep. The following morning I watched as a small party took the body of the boy into the trees, dug a small hole, and buried it. It appeared that the book could not repair death. I had been helping with some further repairs when I caught sight of the injured man, going about his business as if he had not been hurt at all. Later Sophia approached me and commented on it. "You have been looking at Venas?" she said. "Yes, he was badly injured." "A little scratched," Sophia said, "but I gave him a tonic last night and it has done the job." I hid the skepticism from my face. There was no way that the man had merely sustained a scratch. It should have been a severe, even maiming, blow, but I merely nodded as if I believed what she had said. "Good, " I said, "I had feared it was more severe. That must have been a very effective tonic." "What now, Herr Schmidt? Will you be leaving us now again? You should know that my tribe has decided to leave this area." She grimaced. "This cannot go on. It is not the first time we have been attacked. Many people hate Gypsies. Too many of us are being killed. We have decided that it is becoming too dangerous for us here. We will probably go further east, maybe even back into Ottoman territory. They seem to tolerate us more than the Austrians. " I looked at the clouded sky. It was threatening rain. " If it is all the same with you, I will wait. It looks as if it will be uncomfortable travel." And at that a light rain began to fall, soon becoming heavier, but in an hour or so when the sky cleared, I helped the Gypsies pack their belongings into their small wagons. As night fell I sat with the Gypsy men round a fire. The wagons had been packed apart from some tents and now they were tired and subdued. I was exhausted too, and sick of the destruction. "Come," Sophia said. "You can take shelter with us for tonight again. The rest of my tribe will be leaving soon. She pointed to the packed wagons. We will delay until tomorrow so you can rest with us tonight. And you must be hungry." "The child you healed is better now?" I asked "Yes. She should be fine for traveling. You were very brave to help us. You could have been injured if they attacked again." " I am glad to have helped you all. What now?' "What about you, Herr Schmidt. It would not be safe for you in Vienna, would it?" she asked. She emphasized 'Vienna'. "How do you mean?" "Oh, I have heard that in Vienna some influential people are looking for a clerk who was in the bishop's employment, but disappeared. He had been poking his nose into things that he should not. It was said he headed to Hungary." She gave a knowing smile. I gaped at her, and felt my face turn red. "Yes, I know all about you. I know you are really Heinrich Haider, a clerk in the bishop's employment. Yes, I know your name, or names. My Aunt Trudy sent word that one of the bishop's lackeys was making enquiries about our family. She knew there could be one cause, to get the book of magic. Before she died my grandmother told me that she wondered how long it would take for someone to get on the trail of the book. Its power would have been a great temptation. In fact that was the main reason she had left Vienna. "Aunt Trudy even sent a good description of you and I watched you carefully when you came to our tribe in case you might steal the book from me. " Sophia smiled. "She even told me about your violin playing. I was to take precautions in case anyone ever tried to steal the book. When you came to us I first tried to avoid you. I would have killed you if you seemed a danger, you know?" I shrank back in dismay. "But then you became so friendly." " After you had saved my daughter's life, I owed you at least some courtesy. But I could also watch you all the better. I am sorry, Herr Haider, I have been toying with you these last days or so. At least you showed no sign of wanting to steal the book or doing us any harm. But I will be relieved when you leave." "Did your uncle Heinrich know about me too?" "No, Aunt Trudy thought it better that he did not know. He has little contact with me either. My uncle is a good man, a skilled worker too, but he is na?ve and not cautious enough with people. As you found out, he let too much information slip out about me. I long suspected that someone would eventually come looking for my book. But, Herr Haider, you have helped us when we were attacked. Perhaps my daughter owes her life to you. I am very grateful." "Then please, give me a copy of the book?" She shook her head emphatically. "No, it is not for the likes of you. It is too dangerous. I use it only for good, although, I heard that one of my ancestors used it for revenge. What would you do with it?" I felt my face redden. "Ah yes," she said." I see that you had the idea of using it for your own personal gain." "Where did the book come from?" " I was told that it comes from an ancient civilization and is written in their language, but I do not know. I have one copy. My sister Theresa lives with her husband in another group of Gypsies and also has a copy. It was passed to me from my grandmother and she had it from her mother. It has been with us many generations." "How does the book work? I asked. " Just as I treated you. I read the spell to you and it soon takes effect. The person hearing the words is healed. Oh yes, It is covered in human skin. That makes the spells effective. But there is no book for you. I do not think that you would be careful enough with the book's powers. It would be like playing with fire." Her face was implacable. So there it was. My journey had been in vain. There was no way I was going to get a hold of the book. It was so close, and yet so far. I would have to go back to Austria, but Vienna would be too dangerous. Perhaps I really should go to Linz. The next morning I watched as the Gypsies' wagons left the clearing one by one, until only Sophia and Jamel were left. They had been delayed by a slack rope on an awkward bundle. To my surprise both embraced me when we finally parted. "Farewell, Herr Haider. Good fortune for the future." I had barely left them, when, only a few minutes from out of the clearing, I heard the sound of hooves in front of me and I was scarcely able to hide in the bushes at the side of the road when about two dozen mounted men galloped past me. I gave them a short time to have gone completely, but I had not even left the shelter of the bushes when yet another group of riders tore past me. These were Austrians, this time, by the pattern of their uniforms, presumably in pursuit of the first group. I had obviously got caught up in some of the skirmishes of the Austrian army and Hungarian rebels. This time I hid in the bushes for longer. When I thought it was safe I got out and looked back. They had been headed in the direction of the Gypsy camp. It was likely that Sophia and her family might have been caught in the turmoil and would need help. It was as I had feared. A small distance beyond the site of the camp their wagon was overturned and its contents were strewn on the ground. Jamel was on his knees weeping. Sophia was lying by him, completely still. The four children were screaming. It looked as if the horsemen had simply ridden down the wagon and its contents. Jamel gave a broken wrenching cry and I wept too when I saw Sophia stretched out like a broken doll. Her forehead was crushed. She was obviously quite dead. I embraced him and the children and I cursed at the violence that this family had endured. Later I helped the broken man bury his wife and then embracing him again I made another tearful farewell. I watched sadly as the remains of the family headed east. It was then that I spotted it. Under some smashed wood, almost buried in the muddy soil, was a small book. I seized it, giving a small cry, changing to a whoop of triumph. I washed the dirt off carefully in a nearby stream, and gently pulled open the muddied pages, examining them with mounting excitement. It was the book! I should have been totally exhilarated. I finally had a copy of the book, and I had its powers at hand, yet it was at the cost of the life of a fine woman. I sat down by the stream and slowly read through the spells. Many people could not read, but it had been beaten into me as part of my clerk's training. It was strange that Sophia, a Gypsy, had been able to read, but I suppose it would be a useful skill for her. On the left-hand pages the words in the book were German, and, as Sophia had said, they looked as if they were instructions for the spells. But on the right-hand the facing pages, the words became gibberish. At least they were not German, and I did not think they were Hungarian. I read them again carefully, but it did not help. It was unlike any language that I was familiar with. In the first pages the German words described medical things, like healing cuts, fixing squinting eyes and later, closer to the end, curing club feet and hunchbacks. Then, close to the very end, there it was, as Osvald had recorded, the spell that Frau Weissberger must have used all of those years back, the spell to make a man into a woman. Over the next page was a spell to reverse the effects of the first, and yet on other pages, were spells to make a woman into a man and the reverse of that. I shook my head in awe. Surely such things were impossible, and yet, Sophia had used spells from that same book to heal some terrible injuries. She had even healed me and I knew that Frau Weissberger had also used one. My head was spinning with the thought of what I could do with these spells. I could read the spell to any man and make him female. The more I thought about it the more I was tempted. I needed only find some youths, transform them into beautiful young women and then pass over them on to brothels. The change would be disguise enough for them, and no one would believe any story of their former existence. Then I again thought of Sophia and her work too and I felt guilty. If I used these I might profit from the spells, but I doubted that it would be for 'good'. But I might be able to get rich as a successful healer. However, this might be too much like witchcraft for some people. The Church would certainly not like it. I would have to be careful. I bundled my few belonging in my pack, but for safety I put the small book deep in a pocket. I looked for a moment at the debris in the encampment, then turned away and began my journey back. By the evening I must have traveled quite far on the road to Godollo. After all my trials and frustration I finally had the book. I could return to Austria and use the book's spells. I foresaw I might be able to make a lot of money with it. I rested overnight in a pile of ferns by a fallen tree and the next morning set off again. I was making good progress when I rounded a corner and saw two men sitting by the side of the road. One looked as if he was about my age. The other was a bit older. They looked suspicious and I tried to give them a wide berth, but I was barely abreast of them when,"Haider?" one asked. So someone had sent them out to look for me! I tried to run but they were faster than me. They knocked me to the ground and overpowered me. My arms were tied behind my back. One looked at me and grinned. " Aha, just who we are looking for. There is a Herr Weber back in Vienna who want to see you. We were sent to look for you." I gasped. "Please, I don't know what you are talking about. I am only a poor traveler. Let me go." By some means I had been traced to Godollo and these two sent to apprehend me. "We have been told not to trust you," said one, and he tied a rope round my neck. "Please, let me go. I will make it worth your while" I cried. I had no money, but I would say anything to get free. In Vienna I would be rigorously questioned. My life could be worthless. "Oh?" one laughed, "and what would that be?" He kicked me. "Where would you have any money? So be quiet or we will gag you." I tried to resist but they pulled me along anyway. I had to walk or be dragged along the ground. Progress was slower and we were still some distance from Godollo when we stopped for the night in a clearing by a stream and hidden from the road. They had brought some rye bread and cheese and had managed to shoot a rabbit so that gave a meager meal that night. They untied my hands for me to eat a piece of bread and the rabbit bones they had left, but kept my feet tied. They had searched my pack and clothes and removed my knife, but ignored the book. O