Simon looked back. Those rooms were the closest thing to a home he had known for a long time. It hurt to leave them this way, especially since he didn’t know if or when he’d see them again.
Or if or when he’d see Hans again, for that matter.
Chapter 57
Hans leaned against the side of the hovel by the riverside. He had made his way step by careful step, keeping to the shadows, through the exurb and into and through the Neustadt, until he had arrived at the part of the riverbank claimed by the poorest of the fishers. Now he was watching to see if anyone had followed.
A veil seemed to pass in front of his vision. He thought for a moment it was blood seeping into his eyes again from the cut on his forehead, but it cleared before he could run his sleeve across his face. He looked up; just a wisp of cloud passing across the moon.
Right. Enough waiting. He slid around the corner of the shack and knocked on the door. No answer; no sound of anyone stirring. He waited a moment, and knocked again.
“Who comes knocking on my door in the middle of the night?” a woman’s voice demanded.
Hans put his mouth against the crack around the door and spoke just loudly enough to be heard by the person on the other side of the door.
“Hans Metzger.”
There was a moment of silence, then, “Bide a moment.”
He heard a bar being drawn, then the door opened into a darkness blacker than the night outside.
“In.”
Hans stepped through the door, then moved to the side so the woman could close it and put the bar back in place. Then a couple of shuffling steps, followed by the scratching of a match brought a flicker of light, which was transferred to a stub of a candle on a chipped and cracked dish.
The light revealed the face of old Anna the clothes seller. She lifted the dish and held it closer to Hans’ face. He winced as the brightness neared his eyes.
“Frau Anna.”
“Heaven above, lad, what have you been doing to yourself?”
“Won a fight,” he said with a tired smirk.
“Well, if you look like that, I’d hate to see the loser. That have any bearing on why you’re here disturbing my sleep?”
Hans nodded, suddenly weary.
“Yah. Some men will be looking for me. Need different clothes.”
“Ah. That kind of fight, was it?”
“Yah.”
“Fraulein Ursula know about this?” She gave him a sharp look.
“Yah, and she’s in a safe place by now.”
“Well, sit down there on the edge of the bed and I’ll see what I can find. Sorry that I don’t have a proper chair, and all.”
He lurched over to the bed and sat as she began rummaging through bags lined up against a wall.
* * *
The cart pulled up in front of a large house off of Gustavstrasse in the Altstadt of Old Magdeburg.
“Excuse me a moment,” Gotthilf murmured from where he sat by Ursula Metzgerinin. He was rather reluctant to remove her hand from where it had been holding his arm; for stability as the cart moved, he was sure. But it had provided a pleasant sensation, nonetheless.
He hopped to the ground and looked up at his partner. “Give me a moment to make sure someone is up and can get rooms ready.”
Byron looked back at their passengers.
“Right, but you’d better make it quick, because Simon’s already asleep and I doubt she’ll be able to stay awake much longer.”
Gotthilf pulled his key from his pocket as he stepped up to the front door. A moment later he had the lock open and entered the house. An oil lamp provided light in the short entryway.
“Gotthilf, is that you?”
His mother’s voice sounded from the salon to the right, and she appeared in that doorway a moment later holding a candlestick.
“Yes, honored mother.”
She smacked him on his arm. “Funny boy. Did you solve whatever the problem was that your lieutenant called you out for?”
“Almost. Mother, I have two guests that I need you to provide rooms to sleep in tonight.”
She frowned at him.
“Guests? Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier? You know I don’t like these kinds of surprises.”
“I didn’t tell you about it earlier because I didn’t know I needed to guest them until just a few minutes ago. They were part of the problem I was called out for, you see.”
The frown deepened.
“Gotthilf, I don’t think I can have any kind of person associated with the city watch or your Polizei affairs in my house.”
“I think I agree with your mother, Gotthilf.”
His father’s deep voice resonated in the entryway, and he looked up to see him standing in the doorway to his office, his sister Margarethe hovering behind him.
Gotthilf took a grip on his temper and tried to sound reasonable.