Oliver Potzsch - The Dark Monk

Simon glanced up at the Great God of Altenstadt, who looked down benevolently and all-knowingly on the faithful. He couldn’t help the physician with his problems, either.

“Let us pray.”

The priest’s words tore Simon from his reveries, and he stood up with the others to recite the Lord’s Prayer.

“Pater noster, qu ies in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum…”

When Pastor Elias Ziegler had finished, he raised his head to the Great God of Altenstadt and spread his arms as if in benediction. Then he spoke in a clear voice.

What the priest said next nearly knocked Simon over, and he struggled to get a grip on the arm of the pew.

“ This is what I learned among mortal men as the greatest wonder. That there was neither the earth nor the heaven above. Nor was there any tree nor mountain. Neither any star at all, nor any other thing …”

The voice of Elias Ziegler echoed through the dome of the basilica like that of a prophet. Here was the riddle from the crypt in the Castle Hill chapel.

“You are demanding what from me?” Johann Lechner looked at the hangman in disbelief and dropped the pen he was about to use to sign a few papers. His lips formed a narrow, bloodless line in a pale face, and his eyes darted nervously back and forth. The endless paperwork and, above all, his growing worries about the town had kept him awake the last few nights. Lechner’s skin sometimes looked as transparent as a blank sheet of parchment, but the strength of his will and tenacity were legendary-and feared-far beyond the borders of Schongau.

With Jakob Kuisl and a retinue of two bailiffs, he had hurried back to the ducal palace after their meeting in the dungeon. He walked ahead the entire time, and the guards struggled to keep up.

In his office, Lechner gestured to Kuisl to take a seat and then went back to working on his documents. Only after some time had passed did he ask Kuisl what had happened during his conversation with the robber chief. When Jakob Kuisl told him, the little artery on Lechner’s pale forehead swelled up and turned a fiery red.

“Naturally, we’ll set an example and break Scheller on the wheel. Anything else is out of the question!” he exclaimed angrily as he continued signing his papers. “I’ll go to the city council today and urge a speedy execution.”

“If you do that, we’ll never learn where Scheller hid the loot,” Kuisl said, taking out his pipe.

“Then squeeze it out of him. Start with the thumbscrews, put him on the rack, and stretch him with millstones. Stick burning matches under his fingernails…It doesn’t matter how you torture him. You’ll think of the right method.”

Kuisl shook his head. “Scheller is a tough customer. It’s likely he won’t talk, even when I torture him. So why waste your time and money?”

The clerk glared at Kuisl. “What kind of loot would they have?” he said finally. “A few guilders and farthings, maybe a lice-ridden fur coat. Who cares about that?”

Kuisl’s gaze wandered almost apathetically around the room. Documents were piled up on tables and shelves, awaiting action by the clerk. Lechner’s breakfast-a mug of wine and a piece of white bread-lay untouched on a stool.

Finally, the hangman spoke up. “I’m guessing it’s a lot more than just a few guilders. Scheller stole from another band of robbers.”

“Another band of robbers?” Johann Lechner could barely keep from jumping out of his seat. “Do you mean there’s another gang of thugs roving around out there?”

Slowly and methodically, the hangman filled his pipe. “All the attacks recently-from the Hoher Pei?enberg to the Landsberg region-can’t have been the work of just one gang. I believe Scheller. First let me track down the others as well; then the day after that, I’ll string up the robber chief and his men for you, if that’s what you want. If we do that, we’ll know where the loot is hidden and finally be able to bring peace again to the Priests’ Corner.”

Lechner looked at the hangman, thinking. “And if I insist on torturing them on the wheel?” he asked finally.

Kuisl lit his pipe. “Then you can look for your robbers yourself. But I doubt you’ll find them. I’m the only one who knows all the places they might be hiding.”

“Are you threatening me?” Lechner’s voice was suddenly as cold as a January morning.

Jakob Kuisl leaned back and blew little rings of smoke toward the ceiling. “I wouldn’t call it a threat; I’d call it an understanding.”

For a long time, only the sound of Lechner’s fingers drumming on the desktop was audible.

“Very well, then,” the clerk said finally. “You catch these other robbers for me, and for all I care, Scheller can be hanged instead of broken on the wheel. But first he’ll have to tell us where the loot is hidden.”

“Let the women and children go,” the hangman said softly. “Give them a whipping and banish them from the town-that should be enough.”

Lechner sighed. “Why not? After all, we’re all human beings.” Then he leaned forward. “But you’ve got to do one thing for me in return.”

“What’s that?”

“Put out your damned pipe. That disgusting smoke comes straight from hell. In Munich and Nuremberg they outlawed the vice years ago. And if things continue as they have been, I’ll have to make drunkenness a punishable offense here in Schongau as well, and then you can whip yourself.”

The hangman grinned. “As you wish.” He extinguished the pipe with his thumb and started toward the door.

“Oh, Kuisl,” the clerk added.

The hangman stopped. “Yes?”

“Why are you doing this?” Lechner looked at him suspiciously. “You could make a pile of money breaking him on the wheel-ten times what you get for a hanging. So why? Are you getting a little soft in your old age, or is there some other reason?”

Jakob Kuisl shrugged. “Were you in the war?” he finally replied.

Lechner seemed irritated. “No, why do you ask?”

“I’ve heard enough screaming in my life, and now I’d rather do a little healing.”

Without another word, the hangman left, closing the door behind him.

Inside, the clerk continued perusing his documents, but he was having trouble putting his mind to it. He would never understand this Kuisl. So be it. He had promised the wealthy messenger he’d get the hangman out of the way for a long time, so if there was a second gang, all the better. That would take time, and Lechner would also save himself the sixteen guilders it cost to break the prisoner on the wheel-two guilders for each blow-not to mention the additional money that might be added to the city coffers if they retrieved it.

Satisfied, he signed another document with a flourish. They could always break the leader of the second group on the wheel. For the sake of justice.

Simon drummed his fingers nervously on the armrest of the pew, waiting for the last amen from Elias Ziegler. He felt like jumping up during the service, running to the front of the church, and demanding some explanation from the drunken priest. Benedikta, too, had started fidgeting and shifting around in her pew, turning back to look at Simon with a wide-open mouth when Ziegler mentioned the riddle they’d seen in the crypt. But before the service was finally over, there were two prayers in Latin and what seemed to Simon like an endless Kyrie eleison.

The citizens of Altenstadt now formed a line to offer condolences to Benedikta, who took a seat on a small wooden stool alongside the bier. At her side, the pastor nodded piously to the guests as they walked past the coffin and expressed their sympathy. Some of them placed dried flowers in the coffin, crossed themselves, or made signs with their fingers meant to ward off evil spirits. By now, most of them believed Andreas Koppmeyer had died simply from overeating, but thanks to the housekeeper, Magda, the rumor was still going around that the devil’s minions had poisoned him because he had done too much to promote good in the world. The housekeeper collapsed in tears in front of the bier and had to be taken outside by the sacristan, Abraham Gedler.