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'Never mind. No. That was the story, yes, but he's dropped hints that that's
not what he wanted me for at all. He thinks the Turks are coming to Vienna
just to 'wreck this brewery, and he thinks -
equally insane - that I can prevent them. Me, a stranger he just encountered
at random hundreds of miles from here. And listen, that isn't all, he's got a
madman's explanation for everything. You think Suleiman is the head man of the
Ottoman Empire? Not according to Aurelianus! No, it's
Ibrahim, the Grand Vizir, who also happens to be the son of an air-demon or
something. And maybe you imagined Emperor Charles counted for something here
in the West? Hell, no! There's an old fisherman in the forests outside town
that's the real king.' Duffy kicked the bed post, secretly irritated to find
some of his scornful incredulity feigned.
'It is all a lot of senile fantasies on Aurelianus' part,' he went on, trying
to convince himself almost as much as Epiphany. 'Certainly, the old fellow can
work magic tricks and conjure spirits out of holes in the ground.. .but,
Christ, we're dealing with modern warfare here: cannons, troops, swords and
mines. How can I save the damned brewery if the Hapsburg and Vatican armies
fail to save Vienna? And if they do save the city, what point will there be in
me standing vigilantly in front of the brewery flexing my sword hand? Hell -
Aurelianus might have been something once, but he surely doesn't know what's
going on now. The fact is that Suleiman wants the empire of Charles V, and is
coming to break the eastern wall of it -and Aurelianus thinks the whole affair
revolves around me, Herzwesten beer, and some old hermit in the woods who
imagines he's a king!'
He had stood up in order to gesture more effectively during this speech, and
now he sat down beside Epiphany on the bed. Her face was lit by the reflected,
curtain-scrimmed orange light from the west, and for the first time since his
return to Vienna she really looked familiar to him.
This was Epiphany Vogel at last, beginning to shed the gray, acquired
personality of Epiphany
Hallstadt.
'Listen, Piff. I've done my share of killing Turks, and I don't see how my
presence in Vienna could affect the coming battle one way or the other. Now I
happen to have saved some money, and on top of that for some reason they're
paying me a princely salary. I figure in a few weeks, early
May, let's say, we'll have enough.. .that is, if it sounds as good to you as
it does to me.. .what
I mean is, what would you think of hoofing it to Ireland with me, before they
lock Vienna's gates?
We could get married -finally! - and live in a real slate-roofed cottage and,
I don't know, raise goats or something. Don't tell anybody, though.'
'Oh, Brian, it sounds wonderful!' She blotted a tear with a beer-damp sleeve.
'I'd given up ideas like that till you came back from the dead. But can't I
tell Anna?'
'Nobody. Aurelianus could legally prevent you from leaving, because you owe
him money.'
She scratched her head. 'Do I?'
'Yes. Don't you remember? He bought up all the debts and bad accounts that
were your legacy from that worm-gut son of a bitch Hallstadt, may he be
turning on a spit this minute in hell.'
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Epiphany was shocked. 'Brian! Max was your best friend once. You shouldn't
hate him.'
'It's because he was my best friend that I do-did-hate him. I wouldn't have
minded so much if a stranger had taken you from me.'
She put a hand on his arm. 'Don't dwell on all the stuff that's behind us. We
can still spend our twilight years together.'
'Twilight years? I don't know about you, lady, but I'm as nimble and sharp as
I was at twenty-
five, which wasn't all that long ago.'
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'Very well,' she said with an indulgent smile. 'Our early afternoon years. Oh,
God.. .do you really think it's a possibility, after all this time?'
'After all this time,' Duffy asserted, 'it's an inevitability.'
He leaned forward and gave her a kiss, and it lingered past the point of being
perfunctory. Gently transported by the dimness, and the brain-fumes of an
afternoon's wine-drinking, he was at last in the arms of Gustav Vogel's
impossibly attractive daughter; and he had, unnoticed, become again the
Brian Duffy of 1512, whose glossy black hair did not yet have to be grown long
in the back to cover a knotted white scar. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]