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Thomas was awakened by the sound of loud, cheerful singing echoing through the room:
“My heart’s a nun within my breast, So cold is she, so cloistered cold...”
The lyrics jolted Thomas to full consciousness, his head throbbing with a burning ache. Sunshine flooded the room, casting a glaring gold hue over everything.
“So I blow off my loves like the thistledown And ride from the gates of Nola town...”
Balthasar’s voice cut through the air, mingling with laughter. Thomas hurriedly got up, feeling a sense of urgency and discomfort. What time was it? The day simmered with a drowsy heat, blurring the colors outside into a golden haze.
Descending to the workshop, Thomas found Balthasar in high spirits, polishing his sword handle while singing merrily. Edward, on the other hand, sat withdrawn in a corner, absorbed in his own thoughts.
A dislike for Balthasar simmered in Thomas. Ghosts and devils hadn’t disturbed his sleep; he resented Balthasar’s carefree demeanor amidst their unsettling experiences. Edward glanced up briefly, then focused back on his work. Thomas sat down heavily, irritated by Balthasar’s joviality.
“Are you unwell?” Balthasar inquired innocently, noting Thomas’s disheveled appearance.
“I feel something amiss,” Thomas replied tersely, his annoyance palpable. Balthasar, unfazed, teased about the company of learned men, unaware of the tension in the room.
“We part ways here,” Thomas announced abruptly.
“So soon?” Balthasar feigned surprise, then sang again, indifferent to Thomas’s departure.
“So I blow off my loves like the thistledown And ride through the gates of Nola town...”
Thomas eyed Balthasar’s dazzling attire, feeling a pang of disdain. “Yes, I’m bound for Basle,” he declared.
“I’m heading to Frankfurt; we could have traveled together longer,” Balthasar remarked good-naturedly.
“I have other plans,” Thomas retorted shortly.
Balthasar, sensing the tension, decided to leave. Edward’s cold demeanor didn’t go unnoticed, prompting Balthasar to offer payment for his stay.
“You misunderstand,” Edward replied cryptically, causing Balthasar to flush with embarrassment.
“You judge me,” Balthasar challenged, eyeing Edward with defiance. “Perhaps Thomas is more to your liking—”
Thomas watched as Balthasar, in his vivid attire of blue, gold, and purple, made his departure. The Knight tossed a swaggering gesture towards the table where he had placed four gold coins.
“So you may buy masses for the soul of Ursula of Rosewood,” Balthasar declared, his voice carrying a hint of bravado.
Edward, his mood dark and brooding, questioned, “Think you her soul is lost?”
“A choired saint is glad of prayers,” Balthasar retorted with a smirk. “But you are in an ill mood, master, so good-bye to you and God send you sweeter manners when next we meet.”
With a flourish, Balthasar donned his orange hat and headed for the door, leaving Thomas to stir with reluctant interest.
“You are going to Frankfort?” Thomas inquired, his envy of Balthasar’s carefree demeanor evident.
“Ay,” Balthasar confirmed. “I shall see in the town to the hire of a horse and man—mine own beast being lamed, as you know, Thomas.”
Curiosity brimming, Thomas probed, “Why do you go to Frankfort?”
“All men go to Frankfort,” Balthasar replied vaguely. “Is not the Emperor there?”
Thomas shrugged, uninterested in Balthasar’s reasons, but the Knight seemed perturbed by the question.
They left the room, Edward discreetly observing their departure. As they traversed the neglected rooms, Balthasar expressed his dislike for the place and his unease with Edward. Yet, he acknowledged that the young man had served his purpose.
In the hall, as they bid farewell, Balthasar’s vibrant presence contrasted with the decayed surroundings. His departure echoed with a final verse of his song:
“So I blew off my loves like the thistledown And rode through the gates of Nola town.”
Thomas watched him vanish around the corner, then secured the door and returned to the workroom, where Edward awaited with a question burning in his eyes.
“What do you know of that man?” Edward inquired. “Where did you meet him?”
“Balthasar?” Thomas frowned, contemplating the complexities of their recent encounter.
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Edward returned to his gilded devil, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns with a sense of finality. “Know you anything of the woman he spoke of?” he asked, his voice carrying a weight of curiosity and unease.
“Did he speak of one?” Thomas inquired, his weariness evident in his voice.
Edward glanced over his shoulder, his eyes reflecting a mix of contemplation and apprehension. “Yea,” he replied, “besides, I was thinking of another woman. They were his words.”
Thomas, feeling drained and overwhelmed, sank into a chair. “I know not,” he admitted. “There were so many. As we travelled together, he made his prayers to one Ysabeau, but he was secret about her—never his way.”
“Ysabeau,” repeated Edward thoughtfully. “A common name.”
“Ay,” agreed Thomas with a touch of indifference.
Edward suddenly redirected their conversation, pointing out of the window at the daisies and the broken fountain. “What had he done if she had been living?” he mused aloud before swiftly shifting to a different topic. “I have finished my work. I wished to leave it complete—it was for the church of St. Bavon, but I shall not give it them. Now, we can start when you will.”
Thomas looked up, concern etched on his features. “What of your house and goods?” he asked, mindful of the practicalities.
“I have thought of that,” replied Edward. “There are some valuables, some money; these we can take—I shall lock up the house.”
“It will fall into decay,” Thomas remarked.
“I care not,” asserted Edward, his eyes gleaming with determination.
Observing Thomas’s fatigue, Edward’s disappointment clouded his face momentarily. “Do you commence so slackly?” he questioned with a mix of frustration and urgency. “Are you not eager to be abroad?”
“Yea,” Thomas conceded. “But—”
“We do not begin with ‘buts’!” Edward interjected passionately. “If you have no heart for the enterprise—”
Thomas interrupted with a half-smile. “Give me some food, I pray you,” he requested. “For I ate but little yesterday.”
Realizing his oversight, Edward quickly attended to Thomas’s request, arranging the remaining meal with a semblance of care. As Thomas ate, his gaze wandered towards the open door leading to the next room, where memories of their recent mystic endeavors lingered. Edward’s understanding gaze met his, silently acknowledging the unspoken thoughts.
“Leave it alone now,” Edward advised softly. “Let us not speak of it before we reach Basle.”
Thomas felt a wave of relief wash over him at Edward’s words. The prospect of delving into the dark and forbidden subjects they had toyed with filled him with unease. As they shared the meal, Edward examined the four gold coins left behind by Balthasar, his curiosity piqued by their presence.
“Masses for her soul!” Edward exclaimed, his voice filled with disdain. “Did he think that I would enter a church and bargain with a priest for that!” With a mocking laugh, he flung the money out of the window, watching it disappear amidst the nodding daisies.
Thomas, taken aback by Edward’s reaction, gave him a startled glance. “Why, till now I had thought that you felt tenderly towards the maid,” he remarked.
Edward continued to chuckle. “Not I. I have never cared for women,” he declared without a hint of regret or sentiment.
“Nor I,” replied Thomas simply, his tone thoughtful as he leaned back in his chair. “When young, they are ornaments, it is true, but pleasant only if you flatter them. When they are overlooked, they become dangerous—and a woman who is not young is absorbed in little concerns that are no matter to any but herself.”
The smile on Edward’s face deepened derisively. “Oh, my fine philosopher!” he taunted. “Are you well fed now, and preaching again?” Leaning against the wall by the window, the intense sunlight accentuated the highlights in his dull brown hair as he folded his arms and scrutinized Thomas closely.
“I warrant your mother was a fair woman,” Edward remarked abruptly, breaking the tension. Thomas, momentarily taken aback by the shift in conversation, responded, “I do not remember her. They say she had the loveliest face in Salem, though she was only a clerk’s wife.”
“I can believe it,” mused Edward, his expression unreadable.
Thomas glanced at Edward, feeling a sense of bewilderment at the young man’s unpredictable demeanor—such abrupt changes in manner, unfathomable eyes, and a pale, fragile appearance paired with tempered courage.
“I marvel at you,” Thomas admitted. “You will not always be unknown.”
Edward’s response was cryptic yet determined. “No, I have never meant that I should be soon forgotten.” He then approached Thomas, holding a strip of parchment in his hand.
“I have made a list of what we have in the place of value—but I care not to sell them here,” Edward explained, his tone serious.
“Why?” Thomas inquired, curious about Edward’s reluctance.
“I want no one over the threshold. I have a reputation—not one for holiness,” Edward replied with a wry smile, indicating his preference for privacy and discretion.
Looking at the list, Thomas noted the valuable items marked on the parchment—silverware, glass, pictures, and clothing. “Certes! How might one carry that even to the next town? Without a horse, it were impossible,” Thomas remarked, considering the logistics.
Edward nodded in agreement, pondering the list. “We will not sell these things Master Lukas left to me,” he decided suddenly. “Only a few, such as the silver and the red copper wrought in Italy.”
Thomas, understanding the plan, lifted his grave eyes. “I will carry those into the town if you give me a merchant’s name,” he offered.
Edward promptly provided a merchant’s name and directions to his house, finalizing their plan with a sense of purpose and determination.
“A Jew, but a secretive and wealthy man,” Edward added casually. “I carved a staircase in his mansion.” Thomas, feeling the ache in his head and the horror in his heart subside, sensed a growing excitement coursing through his veins.
“There is much here that is worthless,” Edward remarked as they walked through the dusty, sunlit chambers. “And many things dangerous to reveal, yet a few of those that are neither might bring a fair sum—come, and I will show you.”
Thomas followed Edward to the store-rooms on the upper floor, where Edward unveiled treasures from a hidden press in the wall—candlesticks, girdles with enamel links, carved cups, and crystal goblets. Selecting the finest among them, Edward placed them in a coffer, locked it, and handed the key to Thomas. “There should be the worth of some gulden there,” he said, attempting to lift the coffer but failing.
Thomas, surprised by Edward’s inability to lift the seemingly light coffer, easily lifted it himself. “’Tis not heavy,” he remarked.
“Nay,” replied Edward, his face reddened with frustration, “but I am not strong,” his eyes betraying a hint of anger.
Thomas, intrigued by this sudden display of vulnerability, scrutinized Edward more closely. “How old are you?” he inquired.
“Twenty-five,” Edward answered with a curl of his lips.
“Certes!” Thomas exclaimed, his hazel eyes widening. “I had thought you to be eighteen.”
Edward turned abruptly. “Oh, get you gone,” he said gruffly, “and be not overlong—for I would be away from this place at once—do you hear?—at once.”
They left the room together, Thomas still curious. “You have endured this for years,” he remarked. “And suddenly, you count the hours to your departure.”
Edward ran lightly ahead down the stairs, his laughter echoing low and pleasant. “Untouched, the wood will lie forever,” he replied cryptically, “but set it alight, and it will flame to the end.”