The Hangman's Daughter Part 26

"Calm yourself. Take one thing at a time. We have to save not just the children, but Martha as well. And it is a fact that there was a witches' mark on each of the dead children. And that all of them had previously been at the midwife's. It's possible that the Elector's secretary will arrive as early as tomorrow, and Lechner wants to have the confession by then. I can actually understand why: if the secretary begins meddling in the matter, then one witch just won't do. That's exactly how it was with the last great witch hunt here in Schongau. In the end they burned more than sixty women in these parts."

The hangman looked deep into Simon's eyes.

"First we have to find out about these signs. And we have to do so very soon."

Simon groaned. "d.a.m.n these signs. There's nothing but one riddle after the other here."

There was a knock at the door.

"Who's there?" the hangman growled.

"It's me, Benedict Cost," came a frightened voice from the other side of the door. "Lechner's sent me to fetch you. You're supposed to be attending to the witch. She won't say a thing, and she's supposed to confess today. So now you've got to heal her again. You've got medicines and books that the old physician doesn't have, Lechner says."

Jakob Kuisl laughed.

"First I'm supposed to hurt her, then heal her again, and in the end burn her. You're completely crazy, you lot."

Benedict Cost cleared his throat.

"Lechner says it's an order."

Jakob Kuisl sighed.

"Wait there. I'm coming."

He went over to his spare chamber, grabbed a few bottles and jars, packed everything into a sack, and set out on his way.

"You come along," he said to Simon. "Time for you to learn something proper, not just those scribblings from university, from those buffoons who break up a man into four humors and think that's that."

He slammed the door behind them and stomped ahead. The bailiff and Simon followed.

Slowly, Magdalena walked past the Ballenhaus and across the market square. Around her, market women were loudly hawking the first vegetables of the spring: onions, cabbages, and tender little turnips. The fragrance of oven-warm bread and freshly caught fish was in the air, yet she heard and smelled nothing. Her thoughts were still focused on her conversation with the children. On a sudden impulse she turned around and headed westward to the Kuh Gate. Soon she had left the shouting and the noise behind her, and only a few people were coming her way. A short time later she had reached her destination.

The midwife's house was in a terrible state. The windows were shattered and hung crooked on their hinges. Someone had forced the door open. In front of the entrance, pottery shards and splintered wood were lying about. It was obvious that the small home had been a repeated target of looters. Magdalena was certain that nothing of any value was left in there, let alone any hint at what had happened a week ago. Nonetheless, she stepped into the main room, looking around.

The room had been turned upside down. The kettle, the poker from the fireplace, the chest, and also the handsome pewter cups and plates that Magdalena had seen on previous visits were gone. Someone had pried open the chicken cage beneath the bench and made off with the chickens. Even the little house altar with its crucifix and statue of the Blessed Virgin had been stripped bare. All that was left off Martha Stechlin's possessions was a smashed table and countless pottery shards, which were scattered across the floor. Some were adorned with alchemistic signs. Magdalena remembered having seen those symbols on the jars that the midwife had kept on a shelf next to her stove.

Standing in the middle of the room, the hangman's daughter tried to imagine, despite the emptiness, how only a week ago the children had played with the midwife. Maybe Martha Stechlin had told them ghost stories, but maybe she had also shared her secret knowledge with them and shown them herbs and medicines. Sophie in particular seemed to be interested in those sorts of things.

Magdalena walked down the hallway and out into the yard. The midwife had been arrested only a few days before, but it seemed to Magdalena that the garden was already growing wild. The looters had yanked the tender shoots of early vegetables from the beds and had attacked the magnificent herbal garden. Magdalena shook her head. So much hatred and greed, so much senseless violence.

Suddenly she caught her breath and hurried back to the main room to look for something. It immediately met her eye.

She almost laughed at not having noticed earlier. She stooped down, picked it up, and rushed outside. In the street she actually did start to giggle, so that several burghers turned around and gave her a startled look.

They had long suspected that the hangman's daughter was hand in glove with the witch. Now here was the final proof!

Magdalena didn't let their looks intimidate her. Still laughing, she decided on a whim not to go home through the Lech Gate but rather through the Kuh Gate. She knew a narrow, unfrequented path, little more than a trail, that followed along the base of the town wall and descended to the Lech. The April sun was warm on her face as she pa.s.sed the gate. She greeted the sentry and ambled along between the beeches.

It was all so simple. Why hadn't they thought of it earlier? It had been there before their eyes the whole time, and they simply hadn't seen it. Magdalena pictured herself conveying the news to her father. Her fist was clutched around the object she was holding. The midwife might go free today. Well, not free, perhaps, but the torture would be suspended, and the trial would be reopened. Magdalena was convinced that now all would change for the better.

The branch hit her right on the back of her head, so that she fell forward into the mud.

She tried to push herself up, when suddenly she felt a fist grabbing her by the scruff of her neck and pus.h.i.+ng her back into the mud. Her face lay in a puddle. When she tried to breathe, she tasted only dirt and muddy water. She struggled like a fish out of water, but her attacker kept pus.h.i.+ng her head down. As she was losing consciousness, the hand suddenly yanked her up again. She heard a voice right in her ear.

"Let's see what I can do with you, hangman's wench. Once, in Magdeburg, I cut off a girl's b.r.e.a.s.t.s and made her eat them. Would you like that? But first I need your father, and you, you're going to help me with that, sweetheart."

A second blow made her skull explode. She could no longer feel how the devil pulled her out of the water and dragged her over the embankment down to the river.

The object slipped from her hand and sank to the bottom of the puddle, where mud slowly settled on it.

Jakob Kuisl was struggling for the life of the midwife he had previously tortured. He had cleaned her head wound and applied a bandage of oak bark. Her swollen fingers were covered with a thick yellow ointment. The hangman kept dripping some tincture from a small vial into her mouth, but Martha Stechlin had difficulty swallowing. The reddish-brownish liquid oozed over her lips and trickled to the ground.

"What is that?" Simon asked, pointing at the vial.

"It's an extract of Saint-John's-wort, nightshade, and several other herbs that you don't know. It'll calm her down, but that's all. d.a.m.n it, they should have cleaned the head wound right away. It's already getting inflamed. Your father is a confounded quack!"

Simon swallowed, but he couldn't argue with that.

"Where did you gather all that knowledge? I mean, you've never studied..."

The hangman laughed out loud as he examined the countless bruises on the midwife's legs.

"Studied! Nonsense! You silly physicians think you're finding the truth at your cold-blooded universities. But there's nothing there! Nothing but wise books written by wise men who copied from other wise men. But real life, real diseases, that's what you'll find out here. Learn from those, not from your books! That'll teach you more than the entire university library at Ingolstadt!"

"But you have books in your house as well," Simon protested.

"Yes, but what kind of books? Those books that you physicians have banned or chosen to ignore because they don't fit in with your dusty doctrines. Scultetus, Pare, or old Dioscorides! These are truly learned men! But, no. You prefer to bleed patients, look at p.i.s.s, and believe in your stinking humors. Blood, phlegm, and bile, that's all that const.i.tutes the human body in your eyes. If only I got to take a medical exam at one of your universities..."

He broke off, shaking his head. "But why should I get upset? I'm just supposed to heal the midwife and then kill her, and that's that."

At long last, Jakob Kuisl had finished his examination of the tortured woman. Finally, he tore some linen rags in strips, soaked them in the yellow ointment, and wrapped them around her legs, which looked like one large bruise. All the while he was shaking his head.

"I only hope I wasn't too rough with her. But the worst by far is the head injury. We'll see in the next few hours if her fever goes down or if it rises. If it does rise, then tonight will be Martha's last night on this earth, I'm afraid."

He rose to his feet.

"At any rate we have to tell Lechner that he won't get his confession tonight. That buys us time."

Jakob Kuisl stooped down to the midwife one more time to place her head on a fresh bale of straw. As he turned toward the door, Simon was still standing hesitantly at the sick woman's side, and Kuisl impatiently motioned to him to leave.

"There's nothing else we can do now. You may speak a prayer in church or say your rosary, if you wish. I for one will take my pipe, have a good smoke in my own backyard, and attempt to think things through. That will be of more help to Martha Stechlin."

Without so much as looking back he left the keep.

When Simon arrived home, his father was sitting in the main room with a goblet of wine, looking quite content. He even managed a smile as his son entered. Simon noticed he was a bit drunk.

"It's good you are back again. I'll need your help. Dengler's little Maria seems to have a skin disease, and Sepp b.i.+.c.hler-"

"You haven't been able to help her," Simon cut in abruptly.

Bonifaz Fronwieser looked at him in bewilderment.

"What's that you say?"

"You haven't been able to help her. You messed up, and as you were at your wit's end, you called for the hangman."

The old physician's eyes became narrow slits.

"I didn't call him, so help me G.o.d," he hissed. "Lechner wanted it. If I had my way, that quack would have been reined in a long time ago! It can't be tolerated that charlatans like that man are allowed to bring shame upon our trade. A man without university schooling. How ridiculous!"

"Quack? Charlatan?" Simon found it difficult to keep his voice from breaking. "This man has more knowledge and reason than your entire Ingolstadt crowd! If Martha Stechlin survives, it's due to him alone and not to you bleeding her, as you did, or sniffing her urine!"

Bonifaz Fronwieser shrugged and took a sip from his goblet. "Anyhow, Lechner didn't let me have my way. Imagine him even paying attention to that charlatan. Who'd have guessed..." Then a smile spread across his face. It was meant to appear conciliatory.

"Anyway, I got paid for it. And believe me, if the midwife croaks now, it's best for her. She'll have to die at any rate. This way she can avoid more torture and the stake."

Simon raised his hand as if to deal him a blow and had difficulty restraining himself.

"You G.o.dd.a.m.ned..."

Before he could continue there was a pounding at the door. Outside stood Anna Maria Kuisl. She was breathing hard, and her face was pale. She looked as if she had run the entire way from the Lech Gate quarter.

"Jakob...Jakob," she stammered. "He needs you. You have to come at once. When I returned from the river with the children, he was sitting on the bench like a stone statue. I've never seen him like that. Gracious G.o.d, I hope it's nothing serious..."

"What's happened?" Simon cried out, grabbing for his coat and hat as he rushed out the door.

"He won't tell me. But it's got to do with Magdalena."

Simon ran. He didn't see his father shake his head and carefully close the door. Bonifaz Fronwieser sat down again and continued drinking his pint of wine. You didn't really get the best quality for three pennies, but at least the stuff helped you forget.

Deep in thought Jakob Kuisl had walked homeward through the tanners' quarter down by the river. It was just a few hundred yards more along the main road to his house. Shortly before, he had informed Lechner that the midwife was unable to be questioned. The court clerk had stared at him blankly and then nodded. He wasn't accusatory, and Jakob Kuisl almost got the impression Lechner had expected as much.

At last, however, he gave the hangman a piercing glare.

"You know what comes next, Kuisl, don't you?"

"I don't understand, Your Excellency."

"When the Elector's secretary arrives, you'll have busy days. Keep yourself ready."

"Your Excellency, I trust that we are quite close to the solution..."

But the clerk had already turned away. He seemed to have lost all interest in the man facing him.

As the path took a turn around the last few blackberry bushes, Jakob Kuisl could see his backyard, which stretched from the lane all the way down to the pond. The meadow by the pond was heavy with p.u.s.s.y willows. Wolfsbane and daisies were sparkling in the damp meadows and the herbal garden, recently turned over, was steaming in the sun. For the first time this day, a smile played about the hangman's lips.

Suddenly his features froze.

A man was sitting on the bench in front of the hangman's house. His face was turned toward the sun, and his eyes were closed. When he heard Jakob Kuisl at the garden gate, he blinked as if waking up from a beautiful dream. He was wearing a hat with roosters' feathers and a bloodred doublet. The hand he used for keeping the sun from his face was bright white.

The devil looked at Jakob Kuisl and smiled.

"Ah, the hangman! What a wonderful garden you have here! I'm sure your wife takes good care of it, or little Magdalena, if I'm right."

Jakob Kuisl remained motionless at the garden gate. Casually, he picked up a rock from the wall, weighing and hiding it in his hand. One well-aimed throw...

"Ah, yes, little Magdalena," the devil continued. "A sprightly la.s.s, ravis.h.i.+ngly beautiful. Just like her mother. I wonder if her nipples get hard when one whispers cruel words in her ear. I'll have to try."

Jakob Kuisl clenched his fist around the rock so hard that the edges cut into his flesh.

"What do you want?" he murmured.

The devil rose and walked over to the windowsill, where a jug of water was standing. Slowly he put it to his lips and drank in deep gulps. Drops ran down his beard and dripped to the ground. Only when he had emptied the jug did he set it down, wiping his mouth with his hand.

"What do I want? The question is rather, what do you want? Do you want to see your daughter again, and in one piece? Or perhaps rather in two halves, like a carca.s.s, after I've cut off her chattering lips?"

Jakob Kuisl raised his hand and hurled the rock directly at the devil's forehead. In a movement almost too quick to be seen, the devil ducked to the side, and the rock hit the door without doing him any harm.

For a brief moment the devil appeared startled. Then he smiled again.

"You're fast, hangman. I like that. And you're good at killing. Just like myself."

Suddenly his face contorted into a hideous grimace. For a moment Jakob Kuisl thought the man in front of him was going stark mad. But then the devil got a hold of himself again. His face became blank.

Kuisl took a long look at him. He...knew that man. He just didn't remember from where he knew him. He racked his brain, searching it for that face. Where had he seen the man before? In the war? On a battlefield?

The sound of the breaking ceramic jug startled him from his thoughts. The devil had casually thrown it behind himself.

"Enough small talk," he whispered. "This is my offer. You show me where the treasure is, and I return your daughter. If not..." He slowly licked his lips.

Jakob Kuisl shook his head. "I don't know where the treasure is."

"Then find out," the devil hissed. "You're usually so smart. Think of something. We dug up the entire building site and didn't find anything. But the treasure has has to be there." to be there."

Jakob Kuisl's mouth was dry. He tried to remain calm. He had to stall the devil. If only he could get closer...

"Don't even think of it, hangman," the devil whispered. "My friends are taking good care of the little hangman's daughter. If I'm not back within the next half hour, they're going to do to her precisely what I told them to do. There are two of them, and they will have great fun."

Jakob Kuisl raised his hands to calm him.