Oliver Potzsch - The Beggar King

“For God’s sake, see to it at once that the fire doesn’t flare up again!” the secretary shouted to the city guards. “Accursed vigilantes! A plague on all those farmers!”

The guards filled buckets with water at a nearby well and ran up into the attic to put out what remained of the fire. Some of the men helped Anna-Maria to let the cows out of the barn, where they’d been lowing anxiously and beating their hooves against the boards of their stalls. Meanwhile, Magdalena contemplated the smoking roof from a safe distance. Speaking softly, she tried to soothe the children, who were weeping and burying their heads in her lap. The face of the hangman’s daughter was vacant.

“They’ll pay for this!” Magdalena seethed at last, rubbing the blood from her forehead. “Father will string them up for this, I swear!”

By now Simon had struggled to his feet and hobbled over to Magdalena. Bending down over the twins, he gave them a quick once-over, especially little Georg, who was having a coughing fit, apparently suffering from a mild case of smoke inhalation.

A few last drops fell from the sky before the rain ceased altogether. The thunder sounded far off now, like the drums of a slowly retreating army.

“Fronwieser, Fronwieser…” With a mixture of amusement and sympathy, Johann Lechner looked down on Simon from atop his horse. “You bring me nothing but grief. And now I’m awakened in the middle of the night to save your miserable life.” He pointed to the smoking roof. “If it hadn’t been for the rain, all of Schongau could have gone up in flames. And all because of a stubborn woman.”

“Your Excellency-” the medicus began, but Lechner waved him off.

“I know what happened, and I know who’s behind it, too.” He leaned down in the saddle and regarded Simon as he might a disobedient child. “But believe me, something like this was bound to happen sooner or later. Haven’t I told you several times you ought to put an end to your little affair with Kuisl’s daughter? If you don’t, people will never quit hounding you.” Lechner sighed. “This time I came to your aid, Fronwieser, because the city’s welfare was also at stake. But next time you’re on your own. May God have mercy on you then.”

Simon was too weak to reply. Blood had congealed in his mouth, his left eye was already swollen shut, and the right half of his face would probably be shining all shades of the rainbow in the next half-hour. His whole body felt as if it had passed through a grain mill. Shock and fear for Magdalena’s safety had made him forget his pain at first, but now it rolled over him like a surging storm. He searched in vain for a suitable response.

“Is that all?” It was the voice of Magdalena, who had planted herself in front of the secretary’s horse in the meantime. Her face was crimson with anger. “This rabble almost burns our house down, they beat Simon half to death, Berchtholdt poisons his maid, and you are scolding us? ”

Lechner shrugged. “What should I do, lock them all up? Harvest is approaching, and I can’t let the crops wither in the fields with no one to work them. Perhaps I should put Berchtholdt in the stocks… perhaps, yes.” He shook his head, thinking. “But to do that I’ll first have to present some evidence. He was disguised just like the others, and none of those farmers will snitch on the master baker. After all, he’s the man who buys their grain year after year. Believe me, that would be an endless trial that wouldn’t help anyone at all. Besides, the people are right.” He turned his horse around and started back toward town, throwing one last glance behind him and shaking his head almost regretfully. “A medicus and a hangman’s daughter… That won’t do. We have to have rules, after all. Believe me, Magdalena, your father would see things in exactly the same light.”

The secretary disappeared into the night with his guards, leaving the small, sodden group alone in the dark. A breeze blew across the courtyard and carried the last of the smoke away. Now that the fire was out, it felt as quiet as a cemetery. Anna-Maria rocked the children silently in her lap.

“Looks as if we’ll have to spend the night in the barn,” she said. “We can start cleaning up tomorrow. The whole attic is black with soot.”

Magdalena stared at her in disbelief. “Pardon me? They set your house on fire and all you think of is cleaning up?”

Her mother sighed. “What else is there to do? You heard what Lechner said. None of those men will be held accountable.” Angrily she tapped her daughter on the chest. “And don’t think for another moment that you can keep playing the hero. That’s over and done with! This time we were lucky, but the next time it could be the children burned to death in their beds. Is that what you want?” She looked intently at her daughter, who pursed her lips. “I’ll ask you again: Is that what you want?”

“Your mother is right,” Simon said. “If we go after Berchtholdt, then next time they just may burn your house to the ground. The man is an alderman, after all, and has the people on his side.”

Looking up into the overcast night sky, Magdalena took a deep breath of the fresh air the rain had brought. For a while no one spoke a word. “You don’t really think they’ll leave us be, do you?” she whispered at last. “For them I’m fair game, now more than ever.”

Her mother looked at her crossly. “Because you take it too far! Lechner is right. A hangman’s girl and a medicus-it isn’t proper. You’ve got to quit carrying on, or else it’ll come to an even worse end. You can’t marry; that’s against the law. And after what happened tonight, you know they won’t leave you in peace until you start keeping your hands off each other.” Anna-Maria stood up, brushing the soot from her dress. “For far too long your father has just stood by and watched, Magdalena. But this is the end. As soon as he returns, we’ll send a letter to the executioner in Marktoberndorf. I heard his wife died in childbirth, and he would be a good match for you, with a big house and-”

Magdalena leaped up in a rage. “So you want to hide me away, so I don’t give you any more trouble. Is that right?”

“Suppose it is?” her mother answered. “It’s only to protect you and everyone else. You’re obviously incapable of doing that yourself.”

Without another word, Anna-Maria took the twins by the hand and went to the barn, where she made up straw beds for them. For a moment it appeared that Magdalena was about to call after her, but then Simon put his arm around her shoulder from behind. Her whole body started to tremble as she began to cry silently.

“She surely doesn’t mean it that way,” Simon whispered. “Let’s go to sleep now. Tomorrow when the sun comes up-”

Suddenly Magdalena wrapped her arms around Simon as if she would never let him go. She clung so fiercely to him that he could feel the firmness of her body through their wet garments, and she kissed him long and passionately on his bloodied lips.

“This very night,” she whispered finally.

Simon looked at her quizzically. “What do you mean?”

Magdalena put her finger to his lips. “Mother is right. As long as we’re here, they’ll hound us. Too much has happened already, and the next time it might not just be us who get hurt; something could happen to the children. We can’t allow that.” She looked deep into Simon’s eyes. “Let’s get away from here, this very night. I mean it.”

Before Simon could reply, she went on hastily: “Berchtholdt will never leave us in peace. If the matter with Resl gets out, he’ll be thrown off the council. He won’t risk that, so he’ll do anything in his power to see that I keep my mouth shut. One way or another.”