The Witch of Cologne Read Online Free Page B

magnitude of the affection she feels defines it as a natural act. Instead, generations of aristocratic breeding forces her guard, she dares not be vulnerable. Pulling her robe around her, she finds herself answering, ‘If I am to be a compulsive sinner, then I am unable to help myself and therefore I am, by definition, an innocent.’
    Detlef, his robe now slipped securely over his shoulders, laughs. Despite her wantonness Birgit is a wit, a characteristic which draws him back to her bed again and again.
    A tap on the bedroom door startles them. Both stop still. Their liaison is tolerated but cannot be openly flaunted. Detlef gestures to Birgit who moves silently towards the door and cautiously opens it. A young housemaid whispers into her ear.
    She turns to Detlef. ‘It’s that buffoon, your assistant.’
    Detlef joins her. Groot, a short stocky man with political ambitions beyond his intellectual capabilities and an unfortunate wall eye, pushes past the maid. Bowing deferentially to Birgit, he keeps his eyes lowered.
    ‘Groot, to have sought me out here in my good lady’s chambers is a grave folly for both of us.’
    ‘Many apologies, Canon, but you are called suddenly to council this very morn. The inquisitor has arrived.’
    ‘Which inquisitor?’
    ‘The Spanish Dominican, Monsignor Carlos Vicente Solitario. Counsel to the Emperor Leopold and member of the Grand Inquisitional Council. They say that the archbishop is in ill humour to receive him, therefore he has bestowed the honour upon your good grace’s shoulders.’
    ‘A pox on the Spanish.’
    ‘A sentiment Heinrich is sure to share, given King Philip’s present relations with the French.’
    ‘His Highness Maximilian Heinrich to you.’
    Groot bows low again, muttering apologies as he backs out of the chamber.
    ‘And pray reduce your bulk to a shadow as you leave these premises!’
    Detlef slams the door shut on the intrusive cleric. For a moment he leans against the painted wood. Groot’s aspirations irritate him; aware that he would trade loyalty for advancement Detlef realises the cleric knows too much. But there will always be a part of the canon that is exhilarated by the possibility of betrayal.
    Danger is an aphrodisiac; Detlef is more decadent than he would care to admit and far more of a free thinker than Groot could ever imagine. He thinks of the revolutionary treatises he has hidden in his chambers: papers from Holland containing the latest philosophical and religious debates which, if discovered, could see him burn as a heretic.
    A proverb of his father’s floats back into his memory: information is the gunpowder that both builds and destroys empires. The old viscount, addicted to the battlefield, had drummed the saying into his second son, whom he always regarded as stupidly idealistic. It would be wise to keep a record of the youths Groot favours, the canon reminds himself, should the ambition of his assistant render him untrustworthy.
    Birgit moves up behind Detlef and winds her arms around his waist, pressing her breasts against him through the thin calico.
    ‘Who is the inquisitor?’
    ‘Some zealot Emperor Leopold has thrust upon us. Probably another bloodhound for the nervous sovereign who is worried about Maximilian Heinrich’s lax French manners. Leopold fears that the archbishop—like a typical Wittelsbach prince—is in bed with King Louis and plans to cuckold him behind his back.’
    ‘Is Heinrich such a coquette?’
    ‘Maximilian Heinrich is a politician.’
    ‘Is it a contradiction to be both politician and a man of God?’
    ‘Nay. But Heinrich sees no difference between campaigning for God and campaigning for his Parisian friends.’
    ‘And yourself? Be politician for me,’ Birgit murmurs seductively as she runs her fingers across his torso then moves down to bury them into his soft fleece. She loves to reach for him blind like this. Taking him between her fingers, marvelling at the way he always blossoms under her