He had commenced his career in Cologne as a Dominican friar, and remained
in communication with some of his old brethren of the Order.

The monks, Sutor and Stubenrauch, whom Moor had hospitably received in
his wagon at the last Advent season but one, sometimes answered Kochel's
letters of enquiry.

The latter had long known that the unusual favor the king showed the
artist was an abomination, not only to the heads of the Holy Inquisition,
but also to the ambassadors and court dignitaries, yet Moor's quiet,
stainless life afforded no handle for attack. Soon, however, unexpected
aid came to him from a distance.

A letter arrived, dictated by Sutor, and written by Stubenrauch in the
fluent bad Latin used by him and those of his ilk. Among other things it
contained an account of a journey, in which much was said about Moor,
whom the noble pair accused of having a heretical and evil mind. Instead
of taking them to the goal of the journey, as he had promised, he had
deserted them in a miserable tavern by the way-side, among rough, godless
lansquenets, as the mother of Moses abandoned her babe. And such a man
as this, they had heard with amazement at Cologne, was permitted to boast
of the favor of His Most Catholic Majesty, King Philip. Kochel must take
heed, that this leprous soul did not infect the whole flock, like a mangy
sheep, or even turn the shepherd from the true pasture.

This letter had induced Kochel to lure Ulrich into the snare. The
monstrous thing learned from the lad that day, capped the climax of all
he had heard, and might serve as a foundation for the charge, that the
heretical Netherlander--and people were disposed to regard all