The Grimscribe's Puppets Read Online Free PDF Page B

yet I was much too frightened to forsake the Abbey walls, to exchange one kind of emptiness for another as our Abbott had done—for he would know nothing but suffering in the darkness that had been prepared for him.
    The Feast of Midsummer fell upon the Sabbath. On the evening before, while helping the Almoner, I received news of Friedrich. The story came from Anna, who had gone to the castle to beg scraps from the Count’s kitchens. Anna, who confessed herself greatly excited for the next day’s entertainment, sneaked from the kitchens to the great hall, where dozens of tables were set, with close to one hundred singers and musicians seated around, dining on meat and wine.
    These were the agon competitors, all of whom were boarded in the castle at the Count’s insistence. Among them, she recognized Brother Friedrich, though he had traded his monk’s robes for a yellow traveler’s cloak, such as might be worn by a minstrel, and his face, too, had changed. He looked older, she said, but could add nothing more.
    That night, in the hour before Matins, I slipped through the east gate, as Friedrich had done half-a-year before, and wended my way across town as the sun began to rise. Long shadows crept over the blasted ruins left by the summer’s riots, darkening the flagstones over which I stepped, silent as a ghost in that dim and purple twilight.
    In time, I arrived at the castle, where I cried out for entry, only to learn from the guard that the balladeers had left an hour before so as to reach the amphitheater at dawn. With much thanks, I took my leave of him and ran to the city gates, surprised to find them open at this early hour. The watchman waved me along with a shrug and I passed through, joining the winding procession that stretched from the gates to the amphitheater half-a-mile away.
    Although well-acquainted with Anna’s stories, I had not myself lain eyes upon the structure before. Even at this distance, I could see it was an object of gargantuan proportion, as tall as the Bishop’s cathedral and yet far grander in scale, with six terraced arcades fashioned from white timber. And though I feared what I might find inside, I understood that I could no longer turn back, having come so far.
    The line moved with painful slowness. I attempted to cut ahead, apologizing to those I passed, assuring them my intentions in doing so were Godly and honorable. I thought my robes might afford me some protection, but I had gone no more than ten yards before a man seized me round the neck and cast me to the ground. There he proceeded to rain blows upon me until the line lurched forward once more and he tired of his sport.
    It was half-an-hour before I managed to stand, by which time the line had moved well past me, so that I had no choice but to seek out the end once more, and to shuffle forward, blood-blind in one eye, while the sun poured down its heat and the ever-present stink of sweat and piss thickened with the resulting humidity, so pungent it brought me near to tears, until at last, with much relief, I passed into the long shadow of the amphitheater.
    Inside, the agon was well underway. Even in the atrium, the noise was deafening, compounded of the cries and jeers of ten thousand persons in proximity, so that I could not even hear the singer upon whom they heaped their scorn. Once I was certain that I was not observed, I ducked to the right and made my way along the outer arcade until I came to a flight of wooden steps leading down to the undercroft.
    At the base of the stair, I came to a heavy door secured with iron bands. The wooden slide shot back, and a voice inquired of me what I wanted. I told him I was a musician; that I had been accosted and robbed and such was the reason for my lateness.
    He asked me to sing from the piece I had prepared. When I demurred, he slammed shut the slide and would not consent to open it again, no matter how much vigor I applied to my knocking. Eventually, I turned round in defeat and