The Hangman’s Daughter thd-1

by Oliver Pötzsch

  Soon afterward they heard voices coming closer.

  “Andre, was that you? What’s happened?”

  “We must get away from here,” whispered the hangman. “There are still four of them, and they’re likely to be experienced soldiers. They understand about fighting.” He grabbed the half-unconscious Simon and dragged him to the edge of the wood. Then they let themselves drop into a bush and watched what happened next.

  It only took the men a short time to find the body. There were loud cries, someone screamed. Then they swarmed in all directions. Watching the torches, Simon could see that they always stayed in pairs. They went along the edge of the wood and poked their torches into dark places. Once they passed within a few steps of their bush. But it was too dark and they could not see anything. Finally they gathered together again by the corpse. As Simon was getting ready to breathe again, he saw that one of the points of light was approaching their hiding place. It was one man alone. From his gait he could see that the man had a limp.

  At the edge of the forest, not far from their bush, he halted and raised his nose in the air. It looked as if he was sniffing. His voice reached them clearly.

  “I know that was you, hangman,” hissed the limping man. “And I know that you are somewhere out there. Believe me, I’ll have my revenge. I’ll cut off your nose, ears, and lips. The tortures you have inflicted on others are nothing to those you yourself will suffer. You’ll beg me to smash your skull in, just as you have done to Andre.”

  The man turned abruptly around and was swallowed by darkness.

  Not until some time had passed did Simon dare to breathe freely.

  “Who…who was that?” he asked.

  The hangman stood up and brushed the leaves from his coat. “That was the devil. And he’s got away from us. All because you crapped your pants!”

  Automatically, Simon turned away from him. He felt that he was not only afraid of the devil but also of the man next to him.

  “I…I can’t kill,” he whispered. “I’m a physician. I’ve learned to heal people, not to kill them.”

  The hangman smiled sadly.

  “There you are. But we are supposed to be able to do it. And when we do it, then you are horrified. Stupid lot, you’re all the same.”

  He stomped off into the forest. Suddenly Simon was alone.

  Magdalena knocked frantically at the little manhole down by the Lech Gate. The opening was just high and wide enough for one person to fit through it. In this way the watchmen didn’t need to open the whole gate for latecomers, thus risking an attack.

  “It’s the middle of the night! Come back tomorrow; the gate opens when the bell strikes six,” growled a voice from the other side.

  “Alois, it’s me! Magdalena Kuisl. Open, it’s important!”

  “What’s next? First I let you in, then out again, and now you want to come in again. Forget about it, Magdalena, nobody comes into the town before the morning.”

  “Alois, down at the building site on the Hohenfurch Road there is more destruction in progress. Strangers are there! My father and Simon are watching them, but they can’t hold out long! We need the bailiffs!”

  The manhole creaked open. A weary watchman stared at her. He stank of brandy and sleep. “I can’t help you there. You must go to Lechner.”

  Only a short time later Magdalena stood before the gate of the ducal castle. The guards let her in but would not allow her to wake the court clerk. She shouted and scolded, until at last a window opened on the second floor of the residence.

  “What’s all the racket down there, damn it?”

  Lechner, in his nightgown, blinked sleepily down at her from his window. Magdalena seized her chance and told the clerk briefly what had happened. When she had finished her story, he nodded.

  “I’m coming down right away. Wait there.”

  Some time later they were walking with the night watchmen and the guards along the Augsburg Road toward the Hohenfurch Road. The men were armed with pikes and two muskets. They looked tired and did not give the impression that it was their greatest desire to get up before dawn to hunt for a few marauding soldiers. Johann Lechner had hurriedly put on his doublet and cloak, and his hair was tousled under his official cap. He looked suspiciously at Magdalena.

  “I only hope you are telling the truth. Otherwise both of you-you and your father-can look out for trouble. And anyway, what is the hangman doing outside on the Hohenfurch Road at this time? Respectable burghers stay at home! Lately, your father has had a bit too much to say for my taste. He should torment and hang, and otherwise keep his mouth shut, by God!”

  Magdalena bowed her head humbly.

  “We were gathering herbs in the woods. Haircap moss and mugwort. You know, they can only be picked by moonlight.”

  “Devilish stuff, that! And what was Fronwieser’s son doing there? I don’t believe one word of it, hangman’s daughter!”

  In the meantime dawn started to break. The watchmen extinguished their lanterns as they approached the misty clearing near the road. Further back on a pile of wood sat the hangman and the physician.

  Johann Lechner stamped up to the two men. “Well? Where are your vandals? I can’t see anything. And the building site looks exactly as it did yesterday!”

  Jakob Kuisl rose. “They fled before they could destroy anything. I hit one of them in the face.”

  “Oh, yes. And where is he now?” probed the clerk.

  “He…didn’t look well. The others took him with them.”

  “Kuisl, give me one reason why I should believe this story.”

  “Tell me one reason why I should otherwise call you out here in the middle of the night.”

  The hangman now approached the clerk.

  “There were five,” said Kuisl emphatically. “Four of them were soldiers. The fifth was…somebody else. Their patron, I assume. And I believe he comes from the town.”

  The clerk smiled. “I don’t suppose you recognized him, by any chance?”

  “It was too dark,” Simon now joined the discussion. “But the others talked about him. They called him Moneybags. He must be a rich burgher.”

  “And why should this rich burgher commission a couple of soldiers to vandalize the building site of the leper house?” Lechner interrupted.

  “They didn’t damage it. They were looking for something,” said Simon.

  “What now? Did they destroy the building site, or were they looking for something? First you said that they were going to destroy it.”

  “Damn it, Lechner,” growled Jakob Kuisl. “Don’t be so slow-witted! Someone hired these men to upset everything here, something that would hinder the workers, so that their patron could look for what is hidden here in peace!”

  “But that’s nonsense!” interrupted Johann Lechner. “They didn’t gain anything by damaging things. The work is still proceeding in spite of everything.”

  “There were delays, though,” added Simon.

  Jakob Kuisl fell silent. The clerk was just about to turn away when the hangman suddenly spoke again.

  “The foundations.”

  “What?”

  “The patron must suppose that the treasure, or whatever it is, lies under the foundations. When the building work here is finished he won’t be able to get at it anymore. Then buildings of stone will stand here, all mortared and walled up, so he has to interfere with the work and in the meantime turn over every bit of earth until he finds what he is looking for.”

  “That’s right!” cried Simon. “When we were here the first time, parts of the foundation were dug out knee-deep. Someone had put the flagstones neatly aside. And tonight, too, one of the men was prying up the flagstones with a pole!”

  Johann Lechner shook his head.

  “Tales of treasure hunters and a mysterious search at midnight…Do you expect me to believe that?” He waved his hand over the clearing. “What thing of any value could be hidden here? The land belongs to the church, as you know. If there were anything t
o be found here, the parish priest would have discovered it in his documents. Every bit of church land is exactly recorded: the floor plan, position, previous history…”

  “Not this one,” Jakob Kuisl interrupted him. “This site was presented to the church by old Schreevogl, only a short time ago, to ease his entrance into paradise. The church knows nothing about this land, nothing at all.”

  The hangman let his eyes range over the clearing. The lower walls of the little chapel, the foundations for the hospital, the well, the linden tree, a frame of beams for a stable yet to be built, piles of wood…

  Something is hidden here.

  The court clerk gave him a benign smile. “Kuisl, Kuisl, stick to what you can do and leave all the rest to us members of the council. Do you understand? Otherwise I’ll have to come and have a closer look at your house. People say you sell love potions and other witches’ brews…”

  Simon joined in. “But sir, he’s right. The site…”

  Johann Lechner turned around and looked at him angrily.

  “As for you, Fronwieser, shut your insolent mouth, will you? Your little affair with this hangman’s wench…” He looked across at Magdalena, who quickly turned her head away. “It’s illegal and a disgrace, not only for your father. There are some aldermen who would like to see you both in the pillory. What a picture! The hangman putting the mask of shame on his own daughter! Up to now I have shown some restraint, out of consideration for your father, Fronwieser, and also for the executioner, whom I have respected up to now.”

  At the words “hangman’s wench,” Jakob Kuisl jumped up, but Magdalena held him back. “Leave him, Father,” she whispered. “You’ll only make things much worse for us.”

  Johann Lechner looked over the site once more and signaled to the watchmen to return.

  “I’ll tell you what I think,” he said, without turning around. “I think that there were in fact soldiers here. I’m even prepared to believe that some crazy Schongau patrician hired them to destroy the leper house. Because he was afraid that travelers would avoid the town. But what I do not believe is your tall tale about a buried treasure. And I do not wish to know who this patrician is. Quite enough dirt has been stirred up already. From now on a watch will be set here every night. The building work will continue as the council decided. As for you, Kuisl…” Not until now did he turn to the hangman. “You will come with me and do that for which God has ordained you. You will torture the Stechlin woman until she confesses to the murder of the children. That is the only thing of any importance. And not a few lousy soldiers on a ruined building site.”

  He was turning to go when one of the bailiffs plucked at his sleeve. It was Benedict Cost, who had been on duty in the keep this same night. “Sir, the Stechlin woman,” he began.

  Johann Lechner stopped. “Well, what about her?”

  “She…she’s unconscious and badly injured. At midnight she was drawing signs on the floor of her cell, and then Georg Riegg threw a stone at her, and now you can’t get a peep out of her. We sent old Fronwieser to her to see if he could bring her around.”

  A red flush came over Johann Lechner’s face. “And why haven’t you told me this until now?” he hissed.

  “We…we didn’t want to wake you,” stammered Benedict Cost. “We thought it could wait until the next day. I was going to tell you early this morning-”

  “Wait until the morning?” Johann Lechner had difficulty keeping his voice calm. “In one or two days the Elector’s secretary will be here with bag and baggage, and then all hell will break loose. If we can’t produce a culprit, he’ll undertake the search himself. And then God help us! It won’t be just one witch that he’ll find, you can be sure of that!”

  Abruptly he turned away and hurried back to the road that led to Schongau. The watchmen followed him.

  “Kuisl!” he called back when he reached the road. “You will come with me, and the others too! We’re going to squeeze a confession out of the Stechlin woman. And if necessary I’ll force speech out of a dead woman today!”

  Slowly, the mists of the morning rose.

  As the last of them left the site, a quiet sound of weeping was heard from somewhere.

  Martha Stechlin was still unconscious and therefore not in a condition to be questioned. She had a high fever and was mumbling in her sleep as Bonifaz Fronwieser held his ear to her chest.

  “The sign…the children…all deception…” She uttered scraps of words.

  The old physician shook his head. He looked up submissively at Johann Lechner, who was leaning against the cell door and observing the medical examination with increasing impatience.

  “Well?” inquired Lechner.

  Bonifaz Fronwieser shrugged. “It doesn’t look good. This woman has a high fever. She’s probably going to die before she regains consciousness again. I’ll bleed her, and-”

  Johann Lechner gestured dismissively. “Oh, leave that rubbish. Then she’ll die on us all the sooner. I know you quacks. Isn’t there another way to bring her around for a short time, at least? After she’s confessed she can die, as far as I’m concerned, but first we must have her confession!”

  Bonifaz Fronwieser was thinking. “There are certain remedies, which I unfortunately don’t have at my disposal.”

  Impatiently Johann Lechner drummed against the cell bars with his fingers. “And who has these certain remedies?”

  “Well, the hangman, I suppose. But that is devil’s stuff. Draw a large quantity of blood and the midwife-”

  “Watchman!” Johann Lechner was already on the way out. “Bring the hangman to me. He must bring the Stechlin woman around, and quickly. That’s an order!”

  Hurried steps departed in the direction of the tanners’ quarter.

  Bonifaz Fronwieser approached the clerk apprehensively. “Can I be of assistance to you in any other way?”

  Lechner only shook his head shortly. He was deep in thought. “Go. I’ll call for you when I need you.”

  “Your pardon, sir, but my fee.”

  With a sigh, Johann Lechner pressed a few coins into the physician’s hand. Then he turned back to the interior of the keep.

  The midwife lay on the floor of her cell, breathing with difficulty. Near her, now almost illegible, the sign was still on the ground.

  “Satan’s whore,” hissed Lechner. “Say what you know, and then go to hell.” He kicked the midwife in the side, so that she rolled, groaning, onto her back. Then he wiped out the witches’ sign and crossed himself.

  Behind him someone rattled the iron bars. “I saw her draw that sign!” cried Georg Riegg. “And I threw a stone at her straight away, to stop her putting a spell on us. You can rely on old Riegg, can’t you, sir?”

  Johann Lechner spun round. “You miserable bungler! It’ll be your fault if the whole town burns down! If you hadn’t hurt her, she could sing her devil’s song now, and we’d have peace at last! But, no, now the Elector’s secretary is coming. And just when the town has no more money anyway. You stupid fool!”

  “I…don’t understand.”

  But Johann Lechner was not listening to him anymore. He had already walked out onto the street. If the hangman could not bring the Stechlin woman around by midday, he would have to call a council meeting. Things were getting out of his control.

  CHAPTER 13

  MONDAY APRIL 30, A.D. 1659 EIGHT O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING

  Magdalena was striding up the steep road from the Lech to the market square with a basket in hand. She could think of nothing but the events of the previous night. She hadn’t slept a wink, and yet she was wide awake.

  When Johann Lechner saw that the midwife was indeed unconscious and severely injured, he had dismissed the hangman and the physician, cursing violently. Now they were sitting in the hangman’s house, tired, hungry, and at their wit’s end. Magdalena had volunteered to go to the market to buy beer, bread, and smoked meat to help to revive them. After she had purchased a loaf of rye bread and a good cut of bacon in the market
square, she turned to the inns behind the Ballenhaus. She avoided the Stern since Karl Semer, its landlord and the town’s presiding burgomaster, was currently on bad terms with her father. Everyone knew that the hangman had taken the side of the witch. So she went over to the Sonnenbrau to get two mugs of beer.

  When she stepped back into the street with the foaming tankards, she heard whispering and giggling behind her. She looked around. A group of children clustered around the door of the inn, eyeing her, partly out of fear, partly out of curiosity. Magdalena was making her way through the throng of children when she heard several voices strike up a little song behind her. It was an insulting rhyme with her name in it.

  “Magdalena, hangman’s cow, bears the mark upon her brow!

  Beckons all young men to play, ’cept for those who run away!”

  Angrily, she turned around.

  “Who was that? Speak, if you dare!”

  Some of the children ran away. Most, however, remained and looked at her, smirking.

  “Who was that?” she asked again.

  “You’ve put a spell on Simon Fronwieser, so that he follows you everywhere like a puppy, and you’re hand in glove with the Stechlin woman, that witch.”

  A boy with a crooked nose, approximately twelve years old, had spoken. Magdalena knew him. He was the son of Berchtholdt, the baker. He looked her in the eye defiantly, but his hands were shaking.

  “Is that so. According to whom?” Magdalena asked calmly, attempting a smile.

  “According to my father,” the Berchtholdt boy hissed. “And he says you’ll be next to end up burning at the stake.”

  Magdalena gave him a provocative stare. “Anybody else who believes this sort of rubbish? If so, shove off now, or else you’ll get one behind the ears.”

  Suddenly she had an idea. She reached into her basket and took out a handful of candied fruit. Actually, she had bought it at the market for her siblings. She smiled as she spoke on.

  “For everybody else, I might have some candy, if they want to tell me a thing or two.”