What was happening outside had been caused by Ludwig. Just moments ago, he had chosen not to enter the tent with Maximilian.
A fanatical Catholic—of the sort who flogged himself with a scourge every day—Ludwig's revulsion toward heathens was written all over his face, and he held their invitation in even greater contempt.
So he had taken his men for a stroll, only to stumble upon an enormous fence. A foul stench drifted from within from time to time, like that of a livestock pen.
When Ludwig forced himself to investigate despite his nausea, he discovered that it held neither rare birds nor exotic beasts, but human beings.
Dozens of people in handcuffs and leg irons were packed together like sardines in the cramped, stifling space. Food scraps and excrement were mixed together, while pairs of empty, lifeless eyes, like those of the dead, stared back at him.
Ludwig rarely left Vienna, and scarcely ever even left the palace. The misery before him was something he had never witnessed in all his life.
Like a madman, Ludwig tried to tear away all the wooden boards. His hands were soon a bloody mess of torn flesh. His attendants hurried forward to restrain the Archduke, while the owner of the enclosure arrived as well.
A Tatar was carrying a battered white little girl in one hand. Seeing Ludwig tearing down his fence, he immediately bellowed.
"What the hell are you? Get lost! Or I'll kill you!"
"Let them go! I said, let them go!"
They spoke languages neither side understood, yet after only a brief exchange of glances, both were seized by the urge to kill.
The Tatar slave trader had just reached for the dagger at his waist when Ludwig's fist was already in his face.
Years of intense training since