Oliver Pötzsch - The Werewolf of Bamberg

“There used to be a little dock here, when Wunderburg was still a suburb,” he said in a soft voice, “but since the war, the forest has slowly reclaimed the area. But this is still the best way to approach the old hunting cabin. Aha!” He stopped short and pointed ahead into the darkness with his oar. “It seems we’re not the first to take a trip here today.”

Magdalena squinted and now saw another boat tied up at the shore. Answin steered his boat right alongside, and everyone got out. Bartholomäus limped over to the other boat.

“Just look here,” he mumbled after a quick inspection. He held up his right hand and rubbed his fingers together. “There’s blood on the boat box.” He cautiously opened the box and stuck his head in for a look. “Here, inside, as well. I’d say we’re on the right track.”

Magdalena heard a soft grinding sound, and it took a while before she realized it was her father, standing right next to her, grinding his teeth.

“I’ll kill him,” he whispered under his breath. “Very, very slowly. And it will hurt very, very much.”

“But I don’t think our werewolf killed his prisoners here in the boat,” Jeremias said, apparently having heard Jakob’s whispered words. By now he was more or less sober again. “That isn’t the way he’s been going about it. He wants to torture them slowly, just the way I tortured his relatives back then. We can only hope he hasn’t gotten that far yet.”

Magdalena felt like she would vomit. What, in God’s name, was that madman doing with her sister?

“Then let’s not waste any time,” she said, looking around. “Where is this damned hunting lodge?”

Bartholomäus pointed to a narrow deer path leading into the forest. “It’s not far now. We’ll have to keep quiet if we want to surprise the fellow.”

“I’ll stand here by the boat and wait for you,” Answin said. “Forgive me, but I have a wife and five hungry young mouths to feed, and they need their father to come back home alive. Besides. .” He hesitated for a moment. “Well, there are stories going around about this house that I don’t like. It’s said the master of the hunt back then was a bad character-he had his own way of dealing with poachers. Some of them vanished and were never seen again. So watch out that the same doesn’t happen to you.”

Bartholomäus nodded. “Thanks, Answin, we’ll take care of ourselves. Just one last favor, please. If you hear me shouting, then something has gone wrong. Please alert the city guards.”

“We should have done that before,” Simon replied gloomily, “but once again, no one wanted to listen to me.”

“Exactly. So let’s go.” Jakob took the lead, and the others followed him into the dense forest.

As soon as they were under the tree cover, Magdalena could hardly see her hand in front of her face. The rain came pouring down. Nevertheless, she had refrained from lighting the lantern so as not to alert Markus Salter any sooner than necessary. After a while the undergrowth disappeared, and they entered a part of the forest with tall-standing firs and scattered birches, and the view improved. Somewhere an owl hooted, but otherwise all they heard was the sound of the pouring rain and their own steps through the damp, moldy leaves. Repeatedly they had to find a way around swampy pools of water.

They had made their way perhaps a stone’s throw or two from the river when Jakob suddenly stopped and pointed ahead of them through the trees, where the outlines of a large building surrounded by a low wall became visible.

“Is that it?” he whispered to his brother, who had come up from behind.

Bartholomäus spat on the ground. “That’s it. It looks dark in the house, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. There are a few cellar rooms whose windows were all boarded up long ago. Let’s sneak up a little closer and perhaps we’ll be able to see something else.”

“I’ve seen enough,” Jakob hissed. “My Barbara is in there, so I’m going to get her and bring her out.”

“Father,” said Georg softly, having approached from behind without their noticing, “it doesn’t make sense for you to just go bursting in. Salter could hold Barbara hostage or even kill her. So let’s see if there isn’t some way we can get in without being noticed.”

Jakob grunted, which was apparently tantamount to a concession. They passed through a rusty gate in the crumbling wall, then crept toward a large thornbush just a few steps from the building.

Magdalena could see now that it must have once been a stately hunting lodge. It was two stories high and built of sturdy pine and beams of dark oak on a stone foundation. The remains of a terrace extended along one side of the building, ending in a neglected, overgrown garden of fruit trees and overturned statues. Shingles had fallen off the roof and some of the siding had broken away, but the building still looked huge and solid.

Like a gloomy old castle, Magdalena thought, with an evil witch living inside.

Some of the stories she read to her boys told of terrifying witch’s houses, mostly small and dilapidated, but for the first time Magdalena had the feeling that such a house really existed.

And it was a very, very big one.

Suddenly something strange happened. The rain stopped, and a strong wind arose, howling and whistling as if to warn the house of possible intruders. Magdalena began to shiver, and not only because of the cold. She remembered what Answin had just told them.

There are stories going around about this house that I don’t like.

“The front door appears to be locked,” Jeremias whispered, pointing to the massive two-winged portals leading from the terrace into the house. “But a few of the windows are open. Besides, there’s probably a back door for the servants, which they can-”

He stopped short on hearing a long, drawn-out scream that chilled Magdalena to the bone.

“Barbara!” Jakob howled, standing up from where he was crouched behind the bush.

“For God’s sake, be quiet,” Bartholomäus hissed. “We’re trying to surprise him, so-”

But the Schongau hangman had already stormed off like a mad bull toward the building.

“Stop this jackass before he ruins everything,” Bartholomäus demanded, turning to Magdalena. “You may be the only one he still listens to.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” Magdalena mumbled, closing her eyes briefly and saying a quick prayer.

Then she ran off after her father.

Barbara froze when she heard the bolt on the cell door being pushed aside. Drenched in rain and sweat, Markus Salter stood before her in the doorway with that familiar sad smile on his face-only now he didn’t appear melancholy anymore, but simply crazed, like a dark angel that had just fallen from heaven.

“It’s time,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Let’s get it over with.”

Without another word, he went over to Adelheid Rinswieser and loosened her shackles in a few places. He lifted her up, almost tenderly, until she was finally standing-unsteadily, as her feet were still bound. He held a gleaming dagger up to her throat.

“Now, very slowly, we’ll go over to the other room,” he ordered her. “Please don’t resist, or I’ll have to hurt you prematurely, and I don’t want to do that.”

Adelheid cast a final, warning glance at Barbara, then disappeared with Markus into the corridor. Barbara heard a high-pitched, anguished shout-not a woman’s voice but that of a man.

After some time, Salter returned alone. He removed Barbara’s shackles and helped her up.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

“I’m restoring the balance of justice,” he said. “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. That’s what it says in the Bible.”