Act Three: The Laws of Engaging with the World (Sixteen)
sixteen
Yakov quickly figured out where they were. The street was as narrow as a rope, right behind the newly built church, and they could see the newly installed cross, ornately decorated with torches, just by looking up. They walked through the snowstorm. "Are you cold?" Yakov asked. He remembered that Yubi was still only wearing pajamas under his cloak.
“I’m not cold,” Yubi said. “I’m not wearing my ring.”
Yakov frowned. He thought he would ask about the ring in detail once they were out of town. He tried to figure out which way their horses' stables were headed. It was too dark at night, and the city didn't allow residents to light lamps freely, so he had to ask Yubi for help. "Just keep going straight ahead and you'll be out of this street," Yubi pointed him out. "Turn left to the market, then turn right back to the main entrance of von Brunel's house."
Yakov understood, grabbed Yubi's hand, and started to walk away. "You should thank me!" Yubi complained unhappily.
Yakov didn't take it seriously and just gently squeezed Yubi's palm.
They traveled silently in the darkness. The lord's guards patrolled sparsely, and monks murmured prayers in the church. Compared to the bustling market of the day, the city seemed lifeless at night, with only the wild cats and birds along the roadside adding a touch of vitality. To avoid being seen, Yakov took a detour to the stables. He could see the torches burning in the distance—it wasn't hard to guess that there were guards there too.
"What should we do?" Yubi asked worriedly.
“If there are fewer of them, I’ll beat them up,” Yakov said.
They approached to take a look and found a familiar figure standing there, arguing with a coachman, a monk, and a guard—it was Schumeer. “What robbers!” Schumeer’s nose was red from the cold, and his breath was billowing white smoke. “Our money, why can’t we touch it?”
The guard, leaning on his lance, showed no courtesy to the Latin-speaking civilized man. He spoke something in German, gesturing with his fingers. The black-robed monk beside him listened and began to sing in a drawn-out, almost chanting tone. "May the Lord bless you," he began, "two coins, for the punishment of not lighting the light in the darkness; two more coins, for the punishment of indulging in freedom and succumbing to desire; and two more coins, for the punishment of not supporting truth and order, and disobeying God's teachings. Six coins in total, may you atone for your sins."
Schumer was furious, pointing at the monk and cursing, "God? They're all obsessed with money, like maggots on gold coins! Ridiculous!"
"Add ten gold coins!" The monk's face flushed red. "For blasphemy and rumors, for being tempted by the devil, for being controlled by Satan!"
The groom standing beside them couldn't help himself and squatted down, bursting into laughter. Even the guard was shaking his leg with a chuckle. But suddenly, their laughter stopped abruptly—the guard was slapped to the ground by Yakov, his leather helmet torn and snapped open by the iron gauntlet, and blood trickling from his ear. He picked up his spear, still holding the pieces of leather, and left.
“Bullshit!” Yakov said to the monk in Latin.
Yubi chuckled, drooling, as he watched the black-robed monk stammer his way away. Schumer stared at him, wide-eyed. "Lord, I thought you were dead!" he cried, rushing over to find the wound on Yubi's shoulder and neck. "What happened here?"
“I’ll deal with your matter later.” Yakov grabbed Shumel’s cloak and pulled him aside. “Now tell me, how can we get out of the city with the horses and the gold?”
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