“Perform a like service for each of the others,” whispered the Abbot curtly. “Tell each in a low voice to remain standing just as if he were still bound. Then return to me.”
When the monk had done what he was told, he returned to his superior.
“Have you access to the wine cellar?” asked the Abbot.
“Yes, Father.”
“What are the strongest wines?”
“Those of the district are strong. Then there is a barrel or two of the red wine of Assmannshausen.”
“Decant a half of each in your flagons. Is there brandy?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Then mix with the two wines as much brandy as you think their already drunken palates will not detect. Make the potation stronger with brandy as the night wears on. When they drop off into their sodden sleep, bring a flagon to the guard at the gate, and tell him the Baron sends it to him.”
“Will you absolve me, Father, for the—”