Seth shook himself free of Yost a second time and stood with his back to the door, shaking with anger and frustration as he stared down at him. His mouth worked furiously, like that of a fish out of water, as he tried to clear the inarticulate rage from his head.

Finally, Seth put his right hand in the middle of Yost’s soft fleshy chest and pushed him so hard the chubby man stumbled backward, arms flailing the air like a windmill, and crashed rump first into the cut-crystal glasses and decanters on the marble-topped table.

The high-pitched tinkles of breaking crystal followed Seth out into the bright sunshine and stopped only when the door slammed shut behind him.

“He’s gone!”

The abbot flinched visibly as he heard the young priest’s words. The abbey’s shabby financial condition faded from the abbot’s thoughts now as he looked from the window of his office at the twin towers of the Frauenkirche towering over the roofline of Munich’s old town. He turned slowly to face the young priest.

“What do you mean, ‘gone’?” the abbot asked slowly, his words carrying the edge of a razor. The young priest’s face looked as if it had been dusted with flour.

“I—” The priest tried to clear his nervous throat. “We knocked at his door with his lunch. He… he said he wasn’t feeling well. He spent the morning in bed. He’s … he’s very—”

“Sick, yes, I know his medical history,” the abbot said impatiently. “I know more about his medical history than I do my own, so get on with it!”

“He asked to be left alone this morning, and we… we assumed he was sleeping. He’s done that in the past, you know.” The young priest looked hopefully for some sign of flexibility in his master. Finding none on the abbot’s chilly face, he continued.

“We knocked just a few moments ago,” the young priest said. “And when we got no answer we—we were afraid he had… died or something—we entered the room and found he had gone.”

“Gone? Just like that? Gone?” the abbot asked. The young priest nodded.

The abbot’s reply began low, like rumbles on the distant horizon, and rose steadily until his words thundered at the young priest, so forcefully that he flinched under their blows. “I give you and five other incompetent human beings who call themselves priests the task of looking after a feeble, half-crippled old man and you’ve come to tell me that he has somehow disappeared right from under your keen eyes in the middle of the day! I—” The abbot choked on his rage. His face burned red with anger and his fists trembled at his side. For a long moment, he glared at the young priest. Then: “Get out! You and your fellows are confined to your rooms. I will deal with you later.”

The young priest seemed petrified.

“Out! Out now!”

The priest abruptly came to life and ran from the room.