Oliver Pötzsch - The Werewolf of Bamberg

“I’m not finished.” Magdalena gave her father a stern look. “Recently, Malcolm had a chance to secretly read the play. It contains a number of torture scenes, and a werewolf appears in it as a sort of supernatural avenger. Malcolm described the play as even bloodier and madder than Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus. I’m not familiar with that tragedy, but it must be one long bloodbath.”

“My God,” Simon gasped. “Do you think Markus Salter is putting on his own play here in Bamberg-and with regular people instead of actors?”

Magdalena nodded excitedly. “The troupe visited Bamberg six months ago, and since then, according to Malcolm, Salter has been almost unapproachable, always working like a madman on this piece. It was Salter who insisted on taking up winter quarters here in Bamberg, and he finally convinced Malcolm. He even took a side trip here earlier in order to prepare everything for the troupe.”

“If Salter really did visit Bamberg before,” Bartholomäus said, “it’s possible he was responsible for the earlier murders. Until now we always thought the actors couldn’t have been involved, since they only came to the city later.”

“And that’s not all,” Magdalena continued. “It seems that Salter originally came from Bamberg-at least that’s what he once told Malcolm. In talking to me, however, he once said that as a child he’d been involved in the witches’ trials in Nuremberg-”

“Well, if our assumptions are correct, the man was involved in a very special way with the witch trials here,” Simon interrupted. He showed Magdalena the document on the lectern. “It appears that Markus Salter is none other than Wolf Christoph Haan, the grandson of George Haan, the chancellor in Bamberg at the time. All the members of the family, except for Wolf Christoph, were executed during the trials. What we see here is devilish vengeance, planned down to the smallest detail.”

Magdalena nodded. “It must have taken quite a lot of energy,” she mused. “Malcolm said that in recent days Markus Salter has been tired and distracted, and he often missed rehearsals.”

“If he really abducted and tortured all these people, he was a pretty busy fellow,” Jeremias chimed in with a giggle. The old man had been drinking mulled wine all the while, and evidently he’d finished the entire pitcher. “Just torturing with tongs takes a lot of time,” he said with a heavy tongue. “They have to be heated just so much, then you start with the arms and then sloooowly go down-”

“Thank you, that’s enough,” Simon interrupted. He looked Jeremias up and down, disgusted, before continuing. “Salter could have planted the wolf pelts on Matheo. Also, his age appears about right. According to the documents, Wolf Christoph Haan was four years old at the time, and if I remember correctly, Salter is now a little past forty. It seems likely that Haan and Salter are one and the same person.” He frowned. “But there’s still the question how he infected the suffragan bishop with rabies.”

Magdalena looked at Simon in surprise. “What rabies?”

“While you were on your little jaunt through Bamberg with your uncle, my friend Samuel and I weren’t completely idle,” he replied. “His Excellency the elector and Würzburg Bishop Schönborn, with whom we enjoyed a long, very friendly conversation, was quite impressed with our observations.”

“Stop this high-and-mighty rubbish and get to the point,” Jakob growled.

“Ah, indeed.” Simon told his wife and Bartholomäus the horrifying news of the suffragan bishop’s illness and what he suspected.

“We are presently trying to figure out what animal could have infected Harsee,” he concluded. “It certainly wasn’t a dog, as the bite is too small, but perhaps it was a rat or a bat. We think it had to be a small wild animal-”

“My God. Juliet!” Magdalena exclaimed. “Of course, it was Juliet, or Romeo.”

Simon looked at her, puzzled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Magdalena, but let me tell you there was no one-”

“Not people, but ferrets.” She laughed and turned to the others, who stared at her in confusion. “Markus Salter has two tame ferrets-Romeo and Juliet. Some time ago, Romeo ran away-at least, that’s what he told me. But suppose he infected Romeo or Juliet with this rabies and somehow smuggled them into Harsee’s room. Would that be possible?”

Simon let out a loud groan. “A ferret, damn it! It actually could have been a ferret. Probably Salter gave it an animal to eat that had just died of rabies. There is no guard at the suffragan bishop’s house, and it would certainly be possible for someone to slip in at night and put a sick ferret in the bedroom. Later, the animal could disappear through a crack in the wall or a mouse hole. What a devilish plan.”

“And now Salter has probably got his hands on Hieronymus,” Jakob grumbled. “He’s the last one on the committee, so if we don’t act fast, then-”

“Father. .,” Georg interrupted in a soft voice.

“Damn it,” Jakob snapped. “Haven’t I told you a thousand times not to interrupt your father? It seems Bartholomäus hasn’t taught you any manners in the last two years.”

“How can you ever expect the boy to learn if you talk to him like that?” Bartholomäus shot back. “You treat him just the way you did me. But I’m not going to let you get away-”

“Quiet! Both of you!”

Georg had pounded the lectern so hard that the documents nearly fell to the floor. Then he turned angrily to his astonished father and the equally astonished Bartholomäus.

“I’m sick and tired of your endless squabbling,” he scolded. “If you don’t stop it, I won’t stay in Bamberg nor go back to Schongau, either, but I’ll look for a job as an executioner at the other end of the Reich so I don’t have to put up with your quarreling anymore. And now just listen to me for a change.”

He pointed at the document and took a deep breath.

“You say that Hieronymus is the last one to be involved in this, but that’s not correct. There’s still someone missing here.”

“And who do you think that might be?” asked Simon, as astonished as the others over the outburst.

Georg shrugged as if the answer was obvious. “Well, the executioner, of course. He was present at all the questionings, as one of the head people, so to speak.”

“You’re right,” Jeremias concurred, nodding his alcohol-befuddled head. “But this Salter fellow doesn’t know me, and even if he did read about me in the old documents, he’ll only find reference to Michael Binder, and that person has been gone a long time.”

Georg nodded. “No, he doesn’t know you, he only knows the current Bamberg executioner, Bartholomäus-and naturally he assumes that Bartholomäus is related to the former hangman. And why shouldn’t he? After all, the executioner’s job is almost always passed down from father to son.”

“If this pathetic little werewolf tries to kidnap me,” Bartholomäus growled, “I’ll show him who I am.”

“He doesn’t have to kidnap you, Uncle Bartl,” Georg said, “because he probably already has someone else from the family in his hands.” Mournfully, he turned to the others. “The werewolf has captured Barbara because she’s Bartholomäus’s niece, and we’ll only be able to save her if we can finally stop this endless quarreling.” One by one, he turned to look at each of them. “Please promise me that! We Kuisls have to stick together now, or my sister is lost.”

A sound in Adelheid Rinswieser’s cell startled her from her macabre dreams and brought her back to reality.

She’d spent the last few hours half-asleep, with the constant fear that the strange growling monster might return. But everything around her had turned silent-as silent as the grave. Even the birds had stopped chirping, and all she could hear was the distant, constant sound of falling rain. The sound of the water made her thirst almost unbearable, but just the same she’d been able to doze off briefly. But now she heard something coming from the floor above her, at first a clicking. .