Eifelheim

Manfred said mildly, “The balance will change before the electoral college need vote again. Yet… No one thought Ludwig would drop dead, either.”

“The Kaiser’s party was hunting in the woods around Fürstenfeld,” Ockham remembered. “I was at the lodge with the others when they brought him in. A peasant found him lying in the field beside his horse, as if he had no more than fallen asleep.”

“A man in the summer of his life, too,” Einhardt said. “Apoplexy, I heard.”

“Too many sausages,” Manfred suggested.

“He did not die hungry,” Ockham admitted.

“Nor will I,” said Einhardt. “This is excellent food, Manfred. Too bad not all of us can enjoy it.” He glanced at Malachai. “Now, what’s this I hear about your guesting demons?”

The question, coming unexpectedly as it did, brought momentary silence to the table.

“I have founded a lazar in the Great Wood,” Manfred said casually. “The lepers there are hideous in appearance, but are mortal as you or I.” Thierry gri

“Hah. Some o’ your men’ve been spreadin’ tales, then,” Einhardt replied. “Said you brought ’em down to Falcon Rock that time.” The old man turned to his wife and said, “Y’see, my dear? Nothin’ to those stories.”

Lady Rosamund was a fleshy, indignant woman. “Then, what of that thing I saw?” She turned to the Hochwalders. “Since two weeks, I hear a strange clicking from my rose garden, but when I look, I see… I don’t know what. Hideous yellow eyes, enormous arms and legs… Like a giant grasshopper. It leapt from the garden into the sky and flew, flew away in this direction. Then I see my roses chewed on and spat on the ground!”

“A giant grasshopper…” said Malachai slowly.

Einhardt patted her arm. “Some beast had gotten into the garden, dear. That was all.” But he studied Manfred with a cool eye.

On the morrow, Dietrich escorted Ockham as far as the pass on the Oberreid road. Ockham led his mule, which he had named “Least Hypothesis,” and he paused and rubbed its nose. He had thrown back his cowl, so that in the dawn his wild hair seemed a laurel of flame against the rising sun. He said, “You’ve let your tonsure to grow out, Dietl.”

“I am a simple priest of the diocese now,” he said, “a mendicant no longer.”

Ockham studied him. “You may have foresworn your vow of poverty, but I ca

“Life here has its gifts.”

“Had you learned to flatter the Kaiser, you would need not live in the back woods.”

“Had you learned to live in the back woods, you would need not flatter the Kaiser.”

Ockham smiled faintly and looked off to the east, toward Munich, Prague, Vie

“I wonder if he would have, had it come to the test.”

Ockham shrugged. “Ludwig had the better of the bargain. But when he has been long forgotten, men will remember me.”

“Is it so bad a thing,” wondered Dietrich, “to be forgotten?”

Ockham turned away and tightened the cinch on the mule’s saddle. “So tell me about demons and grasshoppers.”

Dietrich had seen him study the church roof and knew he had marked the absence of the “gargoyles.” And Einhardt’s lady had described them.

Dietrich sighed. “There are islands farther even than the canary islands. The very stars of heaven are distant islands, and on them live…”

“Grasshoppers,” suggested Ockham, “rather than canaries.”

Dietrich shook his head. “Beings much as you and I, but bearing an outward form resembling grasshoppers.”

Ockham laughed. “I would accuse you of multiplying entities, saving only…” He glanced again toward the church eaves. “How do you know that these grasshoppers live upon a star?”

“They told me so.”

“Can you be certain that they spoke the truth? A grasshopper may say what it wishes and be no more truthful than a man.”

Dietrich reached into his scrip. “Would you speak with one?”

Ockham studied the head harness that Dietrich brought forth. He touched it gingerly with his finger. “No,” he said, withdrawing his hand. “Best I know as little as possible.”

“Ah.” Dietrich looked away. “Manfred told you of the indictment.”

“He asked if I would speak for you before the prosecuting magistrate.”

Dietrich grunted.

“Yes, as if the word of a heretic would carry weight with them. Should any ask concerning matters diabolical during my sojourn here, I can truthfully answer I saw nothing.”

“Thank you, old friend.” The two embraced and Dietrich cupped his hands to give Will a leg up.

Ockham seated himself. “I fear you have wasted your life in this crappy little dorp.”

“I had my reasons.”

And reasons, too, for staying. Dietrich had come to Oberhochwald seeking only refuge, but it was now his corner of the world, and he knew each tree, rock, and stream as if he had had his head banged against them in his youth. He could not live again in Paris. It had seemed better then only because he had been younger, and had not yet known contentment.

After the “Old Inceptor” had ridden away, Dietrich returned to the village, where he encountered his farmer, Herwyg One-eye, on his way to the fields. “He be gone, pastor,” the old man cackled. “And not too soon.”

“So!” Dietrich asked, wondering what possible grudge Herwyg might hold against Ockham.

“Left Niederhochwald this morning, cart, harem, and all. Set out for Freiburg at first light.”

“The Jew?” Dietrich felt suddenly cold in the June sun. “But he was faring to Vie

Herwyg rubbed his chin. “Can’t say; don’t care. He’s a wretched creature. Kurt the swineherd, what is married to my cousin, heard the old Jew say he’d put an end to the Angelus. What infamy! Without the bells, how would folk know when to halt work?”

“The Angelus,” said Dietrich.

Herwyg leaned closer and lowered his voice, though there were none to hear him. “And the wight must’ve caught glimpse o’ your special guests, too. Kurt heard’m exclaim about unclean beasts and flying demons. Kurt, he come up here right off, ’cause he wants t’be the first with news.” Herwyg hawked and spat into the dirt, but whether that signified the Jews, his cousin’s taste in husbands, or merely a phlegmy throat, Dietrich did not wait to hear. He sought the empty church, where, amidst the images of suffering saints and outlandish creatures, he fell to his knees and begged again the absolution that he had begged for more than a decade of years.