Barbara’s face darkened again.
“Is the water too hot?” Valentin asked, misinterpreting her expression. “Or would you rather have some wine, or—”
She shook her head. “It’s . . . it’s all fine, Valentin. Tell me about the world outside, will you? I’m afraid I’ve been sleeping for so long. How is my family?”
“They’re well and back in Au, at the Radl Inn.” Valentin grinned. “Although your sister complains nonstop about the fleas and lice in the bedrooms. Your father hopes you’ll be well enough to travel in one or two days.” He hesitated. “Though your brother-in-law might stay a little longer. Dr. Geiger is so excited about his treatise that he wants to publish it at his own expense. The two of them are spending a lot of time together at Geiger’s house. Apparently, Dr. Geiger has offered your brother-in-law his assistant’s job. He’s not happy with his current assistant, they say.”
Barbara sat up in her bed. “But that would mean . . . ,” she started excitedly.
Valentin nodded. “That sooner or later, your sister and her family would move to Munich, yes. Geiger is working on gaining citizenship for them, but something like that takes time. They also have to consult the Schongau Town Council. After all, the people there would lose their town physician. But Geiger has influential friends, on the council as well as at court.”
“I don’t think Lechner, the Schongau city clerk, is going to like that.” Barbara smiled. “As far as I know, Lechner personally recommended Simon at court. But only to find a dog, not to get a job as a doctor here.”
“Peter is going to move here sooner, though,” Valentin continued. “He’ll start at the Jesuit college soon.” He winked at Barbara. “After he returned the electress’s pet dog, he and the prince spent much time together. Apparently, the prince badgered his mother until she got Peter a place at the school.” Valentin shrugged. “When his parents move here, Paul will probably attend a public school—if he ever goes back to school at all. Lately he’s been doing nothing but hanging out with the Anger street kids. Today he’s sporting a decent black eye, but seems very proud of it.”
“That’s fantastic news!” Barbara called out. “The Kuisls are moving to Munich.”
She immediately noticed how weak she still was and sank back into her pillow. She was still overcome by waves of fever every few hours. And yet, she couldn’t help but smile. The thought that a part of her family was moving to the magnificent capital was simply too good to believe. Until recently, they had all lived together at the Schongau executioner’s house down in the stinking Tanners’ Quarter, and now the world was open to them. Anything was possible.
For me, too?
Barbara told herself that the miscarriage had been a stroke of luck. At least there was no longer a reason for her to marry—she was free. And yet she frequently caught herself thinking of the unborn child. What would have become of it? A hangman, a midwife, or something else entirely? But God seemed to have other plans for her. Barbara’s lips tightened. At least she was alive—unlike all those girls Walburga murdered over the years.
Some fishermen from the hospice had found the hangman’s wife in one of the weirs the following day. Officially, it was an accident, but Michael Deibler had told Captain Loibl the truth. The Munich hangman had become an old man overnight. People said it was grief for his dearly beloved Burgi, and for the greater part, that was probably the truth. They were saying Deibler wouldn’t be holding the position as hangman for much longer. The city would soon need a replacement.
“There is other news, too.” Valentin tore Barbara from her thoughts. “I heard they finally caught those coin counterfeiters—and you’ll never guess who was part of it. The Munich mintmaster himself, Frießhammer. Apparently, his trial is going to begin soon. And another high-ranking patrician is supposed to have had his hand in it, too, but the city hall won’t let anything out.” He frowned. “Oh, and the silk manufactory your sister was locked up in is going to be closed down. Apparently, the production of silk isn’t working out in Bavaria after all—it’s too cold, to begin with. But allegedly it’s got something to do with that rotten Uffele, too. He’s deep in debt to numerous patricians, and they’ve thrown him into debtors’ prison, along with Mother Joseffa. Someone reported them for procuring.”
“Serves them right.” Barbara nodded grimly. Magdalena had visited her the previous day and told her everything about Uffele and Joseffa. Barbara had been very frustrated at the fact that those two criminals, who brought so much misery to young women, should get away unpunished. But it seemed there was justice in the world after all. Barbara hoped they’d rot in prison.
The conversation with Valentin helped her forget her own fears for a while. But now it was time to ask the one question she’d been putting off asking. She’d lain awake for half the night because she’d been afraid of Valentin’s reply. She couldn’t wait any longer.
“Valentin . . . ,” she began reluctantly. “You and me . . . Do you think . . .” She couldn’t go on.
Valentin squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to say anything. Of course you’ll go back to Schongau with your family and—”
“But I don’t want to, damn it!” Barbara burst out. “I want to stay with you. It took so long to find someone like you. I . . . I thought I’d never—”
Tears streamed down her face, and she broke off again. Now it was out. What an idiot she was! Throwing herself at him, practically begging for his affection—when the man was supposed to woo the woman. She had ruined everything. Now Valentin would probably mutter a few hollow phrases and go. For good.
But he didn’t.
“Barbara,” Valentin said gently. “I’d like to ask you something.” Without paying any attention to his surroundings, he knelt down beside her bed and looked at her seriously.
“Will you marry me?”
Barbara froze. Silent tears still ran down her face, but she nodded. Some of the other patients stared with curiosity, but she didn’t care. She thought she was in a dream, or perhaps her fever had returned. But slowly she realized that this was reality.
“Yes, I will,” she said eventually, sniffling.
Valentin awkwardly pulled a ring out of his pocket. It was made of silver and sparkled in the light of the few candles in the infirmary.
“It’s real silver,” he said with a smile and held the ring out to her. “Not the cheap stuff those counterfeiters were making. I played at countless weddings to be able to afford it, but none of those weddings were as beautiful as our own is going to be.”
He put the ring on Barbara’s finger, but she looked at him anxiously.
“I . . . I’m afraid it’s not going to be that easy. There’s still my father. If Magdalena is moving to Munich with her family, he won’t let me leave, too. Especially not for a dishonorable musician,” she added glumly.
Valentin winked at her. Unlike her, he didn’t seem worried at all.
“Just wait and see. I spoke with someone earlier who’s got a lot of influence on your father. We had a good talk, even though it cost me many beers. But it was worth it.”
Barbara looked at him with surprise. “Who do you mean?”
“Just wait and see.” He gave her a kiss on the forehead, and a warm wave washed through her body, from the top of her head right down to her toes.
“You’ll see,” Valentin said. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
Two men stood in the watchman’s room atop Old Peter and gazed into the distance, where the Alps rose as a white ribbon on the horizon. The mountains looked close enough to touch. An unusually warm breeze for February brushed around the tower. Both men were smoking, the haze from their pipes blowing toward city hall.
“Schongau lies somewhere in that direction,” Georg said, pointing southwest. “If you look closely, you can even make out Hoher Peißenberg.”
Jakob Kuisl enjoyed the view in silence. He was filled with a pleasant emptiness following the excitement of the last few days. He felt as though the warm
wind were blowing straight through his head, clearing it and leaving him with a slight headache. For this one moment, the hangman felt at peace with himself. He breathed deeply.
“A nice spot,” he murmured. “Though I don’t believe just anyone’s allowed up here. How did you do it?”
Georg winked at him conspiratorially. “Let’s say, I know someone who knows the tower watchman. He told me a keg of brandy would go a long way.”
Kuisl kept his eyes fixed on the mountains as if they were sacred church murals. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d simply been together with his son like this. When Georg was still a child, they used to catch trout together in the Lech River, or roam the forest for hours, hardly speaking a word. Now, too, they stood in silence for a long while before Georg spoke again.
“What happened to that Pfundner? You know, the counterfeiter you followed into the labyrinth?”
Captain Loibl had told them that Frießhammer, the master of the mint, was found the night of the masquerade. A pair of lovers had sought out the grotto for a stealthy rendezvous and had found the tied and half-frozen man. A carriage had left from the grotto’s entrance shortly beforehand, evidently without its load—the dies and other utensils had soon given Frießhammer away. But so far, people had only been talking about one counterfeiter, not several.
“Apparently, they also arrested the carriage driver and two other helpers,” Kuisl replied, still studying the mountains. “They’re continuing to search for a fourth man—a bookshop keeper caught the fellow trying to pay with false money. A scrawny little man, dressed like a dandy.” Kuisl shrugged. “I don’t think they’ll find him now. The three helpers are going to be hanged, Frießhammer decapitated.”
“Deibler’s got his hands full in his old age.” Georg scratched his beard and took a drag on his pipe. “Although the master of the mint is getting off pretty lightly. Usually, coin counterfeiters get boiled in oil or quartered.”
“They say there was some sort of deal with the city. In return, the name of his partner remains secret.”
“Does that mean Pfundner simply gets away with it?”
“You can ask him on Judgment Day.” Kuisl spat. “Loibl told me today that they found Pfundner in the labyrinth yesterday, stiff as one of the statues in the park. He didn’t find his way out that night and froze to death. They only found him yesterday, because of all the snow in the last couple of days. Apparently, he lay caught in one of the prickly hawthorn hedges. Seems he tried to find the way out to the last.”
“I can’t say I feel sorry for him,” Georg said. “Judging by what Magdalena told us, he was a real degenerate. A heart of ice—and now the rest frozen, too.”
Kuisl’s gaze darkened like a thunderstorm on a sunny day at the mention of his elder daughter’s name. Magdalena had told him that she and Simon were moving to Munich before the year was out. Her tone had told Kuisl that she wouldn’t tolerate any objections. He couldn’t order her around any longer. And perhaps it was for the best. For Peter, for Simon, for everyone . . . He was an old man whose busy life was nearing its end. But he had nothing to be ashamed of, damn it. He had always done the best he could for his family.
That left only Barbara.
“I think I’ll ask the Schongau knacker again what he thinks of Barbara,” Kuisl said thoughtfully. “He’s not a bad fellow, if only he’d wash occasionally. Barbara would still be close to home and could lend a hand at my place, too.”
Georg cleared his throat. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I met up with that young fellow this morning, the one who took Barbara to see Walburga. Valentin’s his name . . .”
“A real good-for-nothing,” Kuisl growled, biting the stem of his pipe. “I heard he’s a city musician and plays at weddings and all sorts of dubious feasts. It’s high time I take Barbara back to Schongau.”
“Well, he’s not that bad a fellow, actually. And Barbara likes him. And he can provide for himself and his family. People are always going to need music.”
The hangman turned to look at Georg, taking his pipe from his mouth for the first time. “Hang on a minute. Are you trying to tell me my Barbara ought to marry that . . . that fiddle-playing gallows bird?” Kuisl snorted derisively. “Forget it. I’ll never consent to that.”
“Whatever you say.” Georg nodded. He gazed at the mountains and took another drag on his pipe. Another long silence followed.
“By the way, I’m not going back to Bamberg,” Georg eventually said. “Uncle Bartholomäus left a few days ago, but I’m not going to follow him.”
“Not . . . follow him?” For the second time, Kuisl was astounded. “For God’s sake, and you’re only mentioning this now? Just like that? What happened? Did he throw you out?”
“Uncle Bartholomäus is going to retire soon, and the city is looking for a new hangman. I’ve already been told it’s not going to be me. I have no future in Bamberg.”
“And in Munich . . . ?” Kuisl asked cautiously.
“Deibler has offered me the position of his journeyman. I’d soon be able to complete my master’s certificate and become the new Munich executioner. Deibler would put a word in for me.” Georg moved his head from side to side. “We get on well, and he badly needs help after what happened with his wife.”
“Hmm, a great offer.” Kuisl tightened his grip on the railing and his gaze went blank, but his voice remained calm. “I’m sure you’ll accept. Congratulations. It’s a great honor to become the executioner of Munich. Widmann from Nuremberg is going to hate a Kuisl as the hangman in the city of the elector.”
Georg shrugged. “Well, I’m not sure I want the job. You know, Munich is such a big city, with too many people, everything’s so noisy . . . At the end of the day, I’d rather be somewhere quiet.” He paused. “Where I’m home. Where my ancestors are buried.”
Kuisl’s heart beat faster. “Which means . . . ?”
“Well, I might just come home to Schongau.” Georg smiled. “I hear the hangman is looking for a new journeyman—and, one day, a successor. And if I find a nice girl from Peiting or Steingaden, Barbara won’t need to help you at home.”
“And can stay in Munich with her good-for-nothing fiddler.” Jakob Kuisl sucked hard on his pipe, making the embers glow red hot in the night. He stared grimly at some distant point on the horizon. Suddenly he laughed out loud. It was warm laughter, echoing through the lanes of Munich. Several pedestrians looked up curiously.
“Nicely orchestrated.” The hangman grinned. “So you’ll only come to Schongau if Barbara’s allowed to stay here and marry her damned musician. Who thought of that plan? You or Magdalena? Or that lousy city fiddler?”
“One comes up with all sorts of things over a few Munich beers.” Georg winked at his father. “That’s one of the few reasons I’d truly regret not taking the position in Munich. No one brews a better beer.”
“And no one’s nervier than you.” Kuisl elbowed his son in the ribs, but then placed his arm around Georg’s shoulder and held him tight. They stood that way together at the tower railing and watched the smoke from their pipes unite as one cloud and slowly drift off.
Father and son—no more, no less.
AFTERWORD
WARNING, AS ALWAYS: READ THIS PART ONLY AFTER FINISHING THE BOOK—SPOILER ALERT! UNLESS YOU’RE ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE WHO LIKE TO KNOW THE VILLAIN FROM THE START . . .
THIS IS THE SEVENTH INSTALLMENT of the Hangman’s Daughter saga and the first to take place in my hometown of Munich. Why? Well, to be honest, because I love beautiful hotels! I enjoy traveling for research, exploring new cities, and making myself at home in cozy hotel rooms—art nouveau, preferably—far away from my noisy, exhausting family. In my own city, however, I would have struggled to justify the cost of a hotel room . . . On top of that, I used to believe I knew Munich very well already. I was born here, after all, a proper child of Munich. So what was there for me to discover? How wrong I was!
When the lovely guide from Stattreisen city tours acc
ompanied me through my Munich in the name of research for the first time, I felt like a tourist. There was so much I hadn’t seen before, so much I didn’t know. The capital of Bavaria is like a snake that has molted at least a dozen times since its founding over eight hundred years ago: from the beginnings as an insignificant settlement at a toll bridge; to the sophisticated era of Italian Electress Henriette Adelaide and the classical buildings under Ludwig I; to the city of the rich and famous, the home of FC Bayern, and the cultural metropolis of today . . .
If you want to discover the Munich of the seventeenth century, you must look closely—or engage a good tour guide, like I did.
For this novel, as with my previous ones, an initial spark kindled my imagination—the beginning for everything you’re holding in your hands. This time, it was a note in Reinhard Heydenreuter’s Kriminalgeschichte Bayerns, a book on the criminal history of Bavaria, in which I read, to my horror, that in the Electorate of Bavaria during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, more women were executed for child murder than for witchcraft. It was not the notorious witch trials but the uptight ways of dealing with sexuality that presented the main affliction of the day—at least for women.
Most women thus executed were young, unmarried mothers who had abortions or killed their newborns out of desperation. They were convicted of so-called Leichtfertigkeit (frivolity)—forbidden extramarital intercourse—which had been punishable by torture and drastic sentences since the sixteenth century. Worse than the sentence itself for many women was the social ostracism.
Intercourse was permitted only in marriage, but a future husband needed to have enough money and practice a decent job within a guild to obtain permission to marry. You can imagine that many young people didn’t want to wait until they were married. If the accident happened, it was the woman who bore the brunt of it. Attempted abortion was punished with deportation or banishment, successful abortion or child murder with death. Men convicted of frivolity generally got away with fines. It was especially bad under Elector Maximilian and his Catholic regime in Bavaria. The ramifications of this ludicrous law are a central theme of this novel.
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