The Werewolf of Bamberg (US Edition) (A Hangman's Daughter Tale Book 5)

by Oliver Pötzsch

  “Very well,” he said. “Today I’ll just give you a warning. But if we meet alone in the forest again—”

  “That’s enough, you windbag, now step aside.”

  Jakob squeezed past him and left with his brother. Soon they were alone on the path through the forest.

  Bartholomäus shook his head. “‘Your children will become sick and your wives dry and infertile’? How did you think up that nonsense?”

  Jakob grinned. “Should I have painted my face black and shouted boo to scare them? Sometimes it’s an advantage when the people are afraid of you. You probably know that just as well as I do, Brother.”

  Bartholomäus chuckled, then he looked suspiciously at his brother. “Aloysius says you’re asking dumb questions,” he said. “Why?”

  “Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing in the forest when you should be in town cleaning out the moats?”

  “That doesn’t concern you.” Bartholomäus suddenly turned and hobbled along ahead, as if trying to avoid bothersome questions. “Georg has already started shoveling, and there’s enough time for me to take a break.”

  “Forget about the shoveling. There are much more important things to do.”

  Something in Jakob’s voice caused Bartholomäus to stop in his tracks. He turned around to Jakob, who told him briefly about the alleged werewolf Matheo and his relationship to Barbara. Bartholomäus frowned, and Jakob thought he detected a nervous twitch in his eyes.

  “And the girl just ran away on you, and you don’t know where?” Bartholomäus finally asked with a sneer.

  Jakob nodded. “She won’t come back unless I help her Matheo. I know myself that’s impossible, but I have to at least show her I’ve tried a bit.” He sighed. “You and Georg are going to start torturing the boy soon, and you know there are ways to postpone the torture or at least make it bearable. Potions, certain methods . . .” He paused, waiting to hear what his brother had to say.

  Bartholomäus scowled. “You really expect me to help you, with everything there is between us?”

  “You won’t be helping me, you’ll be helping Barbara. She’s your niece, after all.” Jakob stopped to think for a moment, then continued. “Besides, I can hardly believe that Katharina would want to see a member of the family refuse to attend your grandly announced wedding out of defiance or grief. What do you think?” He looked at his brother innocently. “Shall I tell your fiancée you refuse to help Barbara?”

  “You bastard,” Bartholomäus hissed. Then he took a deep breath and answered, “Very well, then, I’ll see what I can do. For the sake of Katharina and her family.”

  He turned away and hobbled down the muddy path, dragging one foot behind the other like a reluctant animal. But then he turned around again to his brother with an angry look.

  “And you will stop meddling in other people’s business. What I’m doing here in the forest is my concern. Understand? Otherwise, I’m going to hurt this Matheo so that he whimpers and howls like a real werewolf.”

  “I hope your relationship with the prince-bishop is as good as you told me,” Simon said as he strolled along the east side of the Bamberg Cathedral with Samuel. On their right was a large market square surrounded by a number of half-finished buildings that would eventually be part of the prince-bishop’s palace. Workers hauled sacks of mortar and lifted large blocks of stone with pulleys onto the shaky scaffolding. Sweating profusely, horses pulled a cart of plaster up the steep hill leading to the cathedral for the ornamental plasterwork.

  It had been Simon’s idea to pay a visit with Samuel to the prince-bishop. Perhaps the only way to postpone the trial would be for the prince to intervene. Simon didn’t believe there was much hope, but they had to seize every possible opportunity to save Matheo—and Barbara. Samuel was skeptical at first, too, but finally his friend had persuaded him. It was already late afternoon, a milky autumn sun hung low over the city walls, and the forests and swamps in the distance were shrouded in fog.

  “Well, ever since I started caring for the bishop’s concubine, and above all for his persistent digestive problems, I’ve actually become something like a friend to him,” Samuel replied after they’d gotten past the noisy building site. He sighed deeply. “Alas, the word friend doesn’t mean very much to Prince-Bishop Rieneck. His best friends are still the animals in his menagerie. To be honest, he’s not much of a ruler, and the suffragan bishop long ago seized control over spiritual matters.”

  Simon looked downcast. “Then I see a gloomy future in store for Bamberg. This Sebastian Harsee seems to me to be a real fanatic.”

  His friend nodded. “Harsee’s father was one of the driving forces in the witch trials—and even back then, Harsee himself was heavily involved, as well. In Harsee’s eyes, Bamberg is a den of iniquity that needs to be cleaned up. He’d like to make it into a sort of City of God, full of well-behaved, timid believers who go to church and praise the Lord all day long. But don’t underestimate him. He’s very intelligent and, above all, very hungry for power.”

  Now they had gone around to the back of the cathedral. Behind it was a park in a little hollow surrounded by a high wall. Just as at Geyerswörth Castle, there were neatly trimmed bushes and hedges and an artificial waterfall pouring into a basin, and from that into little brooks and canals. Here and there were individual cages and aviaries of different sizes, from which could be heard chirping, warbling, screeching, snarling, and an occasional growling.

  “The prince-bishop’s menagerie,” Samuel said to his astonished friend as he pointed to the cages. “Here’s where the bishop spends most of his time. If you have a request, this is a good place to ask. He’s usually in a happy mood here.”

  As they walked along a small gravel path winding its way down to the little valley, Simon was amazed to see the many creatures in the cages and aviaries. There were gaily colored birds of paradise with long, bushy tail feathers; a brown bear running around in circles; strutting peacocks; tame dwarf deer; and strangely wrinkled lizards, with round shells, that scurried away. An enclosure with a dead tree in the middle seemed to be empty, but in the next cage, fuzzy little animals were screeching, shaking the bars of their cage, and glaring at the curious-looking two-legged creatures. They looked like little people, and their faces reminded Simon of skulls painted with chalk.

  “For heaven’s sake, what is that?” he asked with a mixture of astonishment and horror. “I’ve never seen creatures like that.”

  “Oh, those are called squirrel monkeys,” Samuel explained as they continued down the path. “They come from the New World and are presents from Elector Ferdinand Maria of Bavaria. The bishop also has a few capuchin monkeys and some great apes that are sometimes brought to state functions to entertain the nobility with their climbing and dancing. At present Rieneck is trying to acquire something called a rhinoceros—a monstrous animal. The king of Portugal once had one, but it unfortunately drowned in a storm at sea. And there’s also here a—” Samuel stopped short, as another cage, full of pheasants appeared behind a bush trimmed into the shape of a sphere. In front of the cage, wearing a purple cape, stood a powerful-looking figure throwing feed to the birds.

  “Ah, that’s His Excellency,” the doctor continued, turning to Simon with a determined look. “It’s now or never. Let’s hope the bishop has had a good day.”

  Two armed guards suddenly appeared from behind the bushes, and when they caught sight of the strangers they reached suspiciously for their halberds. But now the bishop had also seen Samuel and Simon. He gave them a friendly smile and waved for the guards to leave.

  “You fools! Can’t you see this is my very honorable personal physician? Leave us alone.” He put down the silken feed bag he’d been holding and reached out his hand with the bishop’s ring. “Master Samuel, what a pleasure. I hear that the mercury treatments you prescribed are working wonders for my beloved Francesca. I’m very grateful.”

  “But I am indebted to you for permitting me to act as personal physician to su
ch a magnanimous ruler.” Samuel bent down to kiss the bishop’s ring, then glanced at his friend as a silent admonition to show his own reverence.

  “Well, I see you have brought your esteemed colleague,” Rieneck said, continuing to smile as Simon put his lips to the gold signet ring. “I hope he is enjoying his stay with us in Bamberg.”

  “Ex . . . extremely,” Simon croaked, struggling to his feet. “A beautiful city, and the new archbishop’s palace up on the cathedral square will soon be the jewel in your crown.”

  God, what drivel is coming from my mouth, he thought. Must one be such a bootlicker to serve the mighty?

  The bishop nodded. “Indeed it is beautiful, though some unfortunate incidents have marred its beauty recently.” He turned to Samuel. “I have heard a suspect has already been found in this werewolf matter—a fellow from one of these groups of itinerant actors.” He shook his head. “What do you think of it, Doctor? Did your commission come to the conclusion that he really is a werewolf?”

  Suddenly, the squirrel monkeys behind them let out such a loud scream that Simon winced.

  “That’s exactly the reason we wanted to speak with you, Your Excellency,” Samuel began in a somber tone. “In our opinion, it is very doubtful that the suspect is guilty. This troupe of actors had not even arrived in the city at the time of the first missing-persons cases. The only evidence is a few wolf pelts they found in the young man’s room. That’s all.”

  “Hm, I think Harsee views it differently. He thinks that questioning the lad would lead us to other werewolves.”

  “I, on the other hand,” said Samuel, “fear a mass panic like what we saw at the time of the ill-fated witch trials. The boy will name everyone he can think of. The citizens are already troubled enough; we shouldn’t be too hasty.”

  Philipp Rieneck seemed lost in thought for a while, then reached for his silk bag of feed and went back to caring for his pheasants, uttering comforting cooing sounds from time to time.

  “I’m extremely saddened that the guards seized this actor,” he said after a while. “I had been so looking forward to a performance by the troupe in Geyerswörth Castle, especially since the Bishop of Würzburg announced he would be stopping by for a visit the day after tomorrow. But if even more actors—”

  “The boy is innocent, without question,” Simon replied, then was shocked to realize he’d just interrupted a real live prince-bishop. Rieneck looked at him indignantly.

  “I’m certain that the Inquisition Commission just founded by Suffragan Bishop Harsee will come to a different conclusion,” His Excellency replied coolly. “And if my information is correct, the good bishop did not request your participation, nor that of City Physician Samuel, in this narrower circle that will decide who is to be tortured.”

  “But you will make the final decision,” Samuel answered gently. “All we ask of you is to postpone the torture a bit. We are in the process of collecting evidence that can lead us to the real culprit.”

  Simon swallowed hard. Up to now, all he had told his friend was that they were hoping to save an innocent person from the claws of justice. Samuel had really stuck his neck out far in making that last assertion. It was clear to Simon that his friend was risking the loss of his good reputation and perhaps even his position as the bishop’s personal physician.

  “The real culprit?” Rieneck frowned. Suddenly he seemed unsure of himself. “Do . . . do you have any suspicions regarding this beast? Do any of the witnesses claim to have seen anything else?”

  “You know that I don’t have a very high regard for these so-called witnesses,” Samuel replied. “The night watchman was drunk as a skunk, and the rest is probably just idle talk. In my opinion, they’re just figments of the imagination on the part of a few pompous idiots. We have some missing people here, and someone is responsible for their abduction. It isn’t necessarily a werewolf.”

  “Not a werewolf? Well, if you think so . . .” The bishop continued feeding the pheasants, but evidently he was mulling it over. Finally he turned back to his guests with a broad smile.

  “Perhaps you are right, Doctor. If this young fellow is questioned, he’ll probably accuse his colleagues of being werewolves just to save his miserable life, and I can forget about my visit to the theater. Since my good friend Johann Philipp von Schönborn, prince-bishop of Würzburg, is unfortunately no friend of the Inquisition, we shall have to postpone the torture until after the performance.” Then he threw the bag away and rubbed his chubby hands together. “In addition . . .” He hesitated briefly, then continued animatedly. “In honor of the bishop’s visit, there won’t be just one performance, but two. After all, he’s a real imperial elector.”

  “Two performances?” Samuel asked, confused. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  Rieneck gave a sly grin, like a small child. “Well . . . I was foolish enough to give permission to another theater troupe to take winter quarters in our city. The manager comes from the beautiful country of France and somehow was able to wrap me around his finger with his sweet, honeyed words. Supporting two troupes of actors in a modest bishopric like Bamberg is clearly beyond our means. Our suffragan bishop Harsee is at times a bit zealous and keeps pestering me about the first group.” He rolled his eyes, but then nodded cheerfully. “So therefore, we will have a contest. Two performances, one by each troupe, presented for His Excellency the Würzburg bishop and all the citizens of Bamberg. The troupe that gives the better performance will be permitted to remain in the city. What do you think? Isn’t that a splendid idea? It kills three birds with one stone: I politely dismiss one of the two groups, impress the elector, and gain the good favor of the Bambergers. For years they’ll remember this friendly gesture by their monarch.”

  He scrutinized his guests’ faces like a cook who had just suggested an especially strange menu.

  “Ah, a splendid suggestion, Your Excellency,” replied Simon. “So there’s some hope for Matheo?”

  The bishop frowned. “Who is Matheo?”

  “The young lad sitting in the dungeon accused of being a werewolf,” Samuel explained.

  “Ah, I see. Well, yes, then he will be spared until after the performance, as I said—an acceptable solution for all concerned.” The bishop seemed extremely pleased with himself and turned to Samuel with a smile. “I owe it to you for having suggested this marvelous idea, Doctor. It will be a great pleasure for me to greet you and your friend at the performance.”

  He reached for his sack again, dismissing his guests with a wave of the hand without even looking at them again. “And now, farewell. I must go to feed my dear monkeys. This menagerie takes a great deal of my time.”

  “Damn it! You know where Barbara is. Now tell me right away, or . . .”

  “Or what?” Magdalena gazed at her father serenely. “Are you going to torture me on the rack if I don’t tell you? Pull out my fingernails or put on the thumbscrews? Hm?”

  “I’d be happy just to give you a good spanking, and it’s too bad you’re too old for that now.”

  Grumbling, Jakob waved her off and fell into a gloomy silence. He leaned back on the wooden bench in the Bamberg hangman’s house, lit his pipe, and disappeared in a cloud of smoke. A steady rain pounded against the closed shutters.

  Simon, sitting next to Jakob, tried again to calm them down. He had returned from his audience with the bishop several hours ago, and now night had fallen. “Magdalena promised Barbara not to tell you where she was hiding out,” Simon said in a pleading voice. “If she breaks that promise and you bring Barbara back here by force, she’ll run away again the first chance she gets. That’s pointless.”

  Jakob remained silent, clouds of tobacco rose like bad spirits toward the ceiling, and a tense atmosphere reigned all around the table. Magdalena could scarcely bear it.

  Why must Father always be so stubborn? she thought.

  The aroma of ham, beans, and millet still hung in the air, and the large pan from which the whole family had scraped the last
bits of supper stood empty in the middle of the table. The children, Peter and Paul—the only ones in the group who were not dejected—were playing with the cat on the living room floor, which was strewn with rushes. From time to time, Simon had to step in when they pulled the cat’s tail or held a burning stick of kindling against its fur.

  During the meal, Jakob had kept quizzing Magdalena, hoping to find out where her younger sister might be hiding, but she had remained stubbornly silent. Meanwhile, Bartholomäus, chewing loudly and smacking his lips, polished off the rest of the stew without saying a word. Magdalena was certain that Katharina would cure him of these bad manners after the wedding, but for now his fiancée demurely spent the nights near the harbor gate with her father.

  After a while, Georg cleared his throat. “My uncle and I were in the dungeon of St. Thomas’s chapel next to the cathedral late this afternoon,” he began in a confident voice, trying to cheer everyone up. “That’s where they put the prisoners who are especially important to the bishop. We took a quick look into Matheo’s cell, and he’s doing well, considering the circumstances. If what Simon said before is correct, then nothing will happen for the next few days. But of course the boy is terribly frightened.”

  Simon had already told the rest of the family about the prince-bishop’s plan to schedule a competition between the two groups of actors, and also that Matheo’s torture would not begin until after the decision. In that respect, Simon’s visit with the bishop hadn’t been entirely in vain, even if Magdalena knew they had won just a brief reprieve.

  “Were you allowed to speak with Matheo?” she finally asked her younger brother.

  Georg shrugged. “Only very briefly. He swears he’s innocent, but he suspects someone—”