Oliver Pötzsch - The Werewolf of Bamberg

Georg reached for a piece of bread, took a good bite, and continued with his mouth full. “As I said, nothing but rumors. One of the women had an argument with her new fiancé, and Councilor Schwarzkontz. . Well, the road through the Bamberg Forest is dangerous enough even without monsters. Ever since the Great War, any number of marauders and highwaymen hang out there. Just half a year ago, we wiped out a gang there, drew and quartered their leader, and as a warning put all their limbs on display at the road crossings.”

“Out in the Bamberg Forest?” Simon asked. His face turned a bit paler. “Isn’t that the large forest southeast of the city that we passed through this afternoon?”

Magdalena nodded. “Yes, the old farmer who gave us a ride called it that. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. .” Simon hesitated, then sighed and started over. “I went into the forest with the children today and discovered the carcass of a stag. It was badly mangled. God knows who or what did it.”

“Bah! It must have been a few wolves. What else could it have been?” Jakob reached for the jug of wine and poured himself a cup. “In packs, these animals quickly turn into real beasts. They don’t have to be creatures from hell. You’re just as superstitious as a bunch of blathering old Schongau washwomen.”

“As reluctant as I am to agree with my stubborn brother, in this case he’s damned right.”

The voice had come from the doorway, with a creak as the door swung open, and in stepped a dour-faced man of around fifty. He was sturdily built, with an almost-bald head as large and brawny as the rest of him. From his bushy beard and mustache protruded, like two crooked teeth, a hooked nose, typical of the Kuisls, and a prominent chin jutting out like that of a nutcracker. As the man came closer, Magdalena saw that he limped slightly. His right shoe had a raised wooden sole that clattered with each step he took across the clay floor. Suddenly a wide grin appeared on his face, and he spread out his stout arms in greeting as he limped toward Jakob Kuisl. Only now did Magdalena notice the soft and friendly look in his eyes, which contrasted so much with his gruff appearance.

“Come give me a big hug, Big Brother! How long has it been since we last saw each other? Twenty years? Thirty?”

“In any case, damn near an eternity.”

“You’ve gotten fatter, Jakob,” Bartholomäus scolded, shaking his finger good-naturedly. “Fatter and puffier.”

Jakob grinned. “But you have less hair.”

The Schongau hangman rose from his seat, and the two brothers embraced. It seemed to Magdalena that this gesture caused them both physical pain. She couldn’t help remembering how cross her father became whenever she spoke to him about Bartholomäus. It had to be hard for him to apprentice his own son to his brother, with whom he clearly didn’t get along.

“Didn’t Georg give you anything to drink but hard cider?” Bartholomäus grumbled in a voice almost as deep as that of Jakob, who was his elder by two years.

“We haven’t been here very long,” Magdalena replied with a smile. “Anyway, when you haven’t seen your beloved brother for such a long time, water from the well is enough.” She meant her brother Georg, but evidently her uncle thought she was referring to him.

“ Beloved brother, yes,” he said slowly, in a strange tone of voice, looking at Jakob. “It’s been a long time since I called you that.” His gaze wandered over to Magdalena.

“She doesn’t look much like you, Jakob,” he finally continued, “in contrast to her brother Georg. He’s the spitting image of you. Is she really yours? Well, on the other hand, you can consider yourself lucky she didn’t inherit our nose.” He burst out laughing and finally turned to Simon. “And this fine gentleman is the son-in-law you wrote to me about? Not a knacker, but in any case a worthwhile person-a medicus and bathhouse owner, so I hear.”

“Simon studied medicine,” Magdalena interjected. “To marry me he even gave up his title. But his knowledge goes far beyond that of a bathhouse operator.”

Bartholomäus grunted disparagingly and kicked the clay floor with his wooden shoe. “And where does it get him? Anyone who shacks up with a hangman’s daughter has thrown his lot in with the dishonorable class, and becomes one of them himself. That’s the way the law looks at it.”

Magdalena was about to respond angrily when Simon took her by the hand and answered with a forced smile: “Well, obviously in your house, too, love won out over class snobbery. It’s not every day that the daughter of a court clerk marries a hangman. In any case, I congratulate you on your upcoming marriage. A good catch, it seems to me.”

“You’re damned right.” Bartholomäus grinned broadly, showing his still largely intact set of teeth. “Katharina comes from a good family. Her grandfather was the assistant clerk in the old city administration, and her father, too, became an administrative official. She can even read, and if God grants me children, they will be better off than their father, the hangman. You have my word on that as the sword-swinging, bloodsucking Bamberg executioner.” He burst out laughing and pounded the table so hard the pitcher of cider almost tipped over.

“You didn’t need to make the long trip for my sake,” he grumbled after a while, “but Katharina insisted. And once a woman sets her mind on something, she gets it, right? The wedding will be in a week-and by God, it will be a sinfully expensive party. Katharina is making all the arrangements. Tomorrow she’ll be coming at the crack of dawn to check everything out and buy some things. The woman is a whirlwind.”

“Apropos of buying things,” Jakob interrupted. “Do you by any chance have any tobacco in the house? I ran out of mine while I was still back in Nuremberg.”

Bartholomäus snorted. “Still the same vice, eh, Jakob?” He shook his head. “No, I don’t have anything like that. But. .” Suddenly he winked mischievously at Jakob, and for a moment Magdalena thought she could see two twelve-year-old kids planning a prank. “You know what? I have a suggestion for you. Down at the south moat, there’s a dead horse that no doubt one of the wagon drivers just left to die. The city council won’t allow a dead animal to lie there longer than a few hours. The damned fools are afraid of poison vapors.” He looked at his brother, trying to persuade him. “So what do you think? We can drag the thing into the stable next door in the knacker’s cart, and with the money, my Katharina will buy you a pouch of the best Augsburg tobacco when she comes tomorrow. I’ll give you my word on it.”

“Now?” Simon replied, horrified. “The two of you want to go out again in the night and the fog?”

Jakob shrugged and walked slowly to the door. “Why not? Is there any better way to celebrate the reunion of two hangman brothers than with a stinking cadaver? If it gets me my tobacco, I’ll string someone up for you.”

Bartholomäus laughed lustily, but it didn’t sound sincere. Magdalena thought she could even detect a bit of sadness in it. She was in a reflective mood as she watched the brothers leave the room. Though Bartholomäus was only a bit shorter than Jakob, he seemed to pale into insignificance alongside his older brother.

It took a long time before the clacking of his wooden shoe finally faded away into the darkness.

A half hour later Magdalena was with Simon up in their room, listening silently to the calm, even breaths of Peter, Paul, and Barbara.

Georg had offered to spend nights in the horse stable for the length of their stay. After all the nights they’d passed, since leaving Schongau, in sleazy flophouses, barns, or the forest on a bed of brushwood, their present accommodations felt like a royal abode. The mattress was filled with soft horsehair; a warm, brick-lined stove stood in the middle of the room; and the number of fleas and bugs was tolerable. Nevertheless, Magdalena was having trouble falling asleep. There were too many things going through her mind, and she was anxious to meet her uncle’s fiancée.