Oliver Pötzsch - The Werewolf of Bamberg

“That damned monkey has been driving me crazy,” said Lebrecht. “I’d like to put a stone around his neck and throw him in the Regnitz-but then the prince-bishop would probably throw me in after him,” he sighed. “Oh, well, now the beast is back in its cage.” He shook his head in amazement. “And His Excellency Sebastian Harsee was infected with rabies, you say? Damn, and I thought he’d been bitten by a real werewolf.” He gazed across the clearing, now illuminated by torches, where the guards were still on the lookout for smoldering fires and pulling apart some of the burning timbers. “Actually, the bishop’s master of the hunt told me just last week there had been an increase in rabies cases in Bamberg Forest. He had to put down a few foxes and wolves.”

Lebrecht hesitated, then pointed at the huge dog carcass. “That brings me to the matter of this creature. You said there was no werewolf. So what is that? And what’s a beast like this doing here in the forest so close to the city?”

“That’s something you should hear about from someone else.”

Simon stared at Bartholomäus, waiting for him to speak up, but the Bamberg executioner just stood there defiantly, his arms crossed. After a while, Jakob gave his brother a kick in the shins. Bartholomäus glared at him briefly, then hesitantly started talking.

“The dog is an alaunt, an ancient race that I have reintroduced,” he said. “It escaped from the knacker’s house and somehow got infected with rabies, the poor animal.”

“Poor animal?” Lebrecht scoffed. “It’s a damned monster, Master Bartholomäus. Do you have permission from the bishop to keep this animal?”

Bartholomäus lowered his eyes. “No, I don’t. No one except us knows it even exists.”

“You see, that’s just what I was getting around to.” Simon beamed, as he always did when he had what he thought was a brilliant plan. He turned to the Bamberg executioner. “So nobody knows about this dog?”

“That’s right,” said Bartholomäus, folding his arms. “Didn’t I just say that?”

“Well, then I’d like to introduce you all to the real werewolf.” With a dramatic gesture he pointed at Brutus-with his huge body, muscular chest, and long teeth, still looking very dangerous, even in death. “Here it is.”

Martin Lebrecht looked at him, confused. “Now I don’t understand a word. You just said there was no werewolf.”

“Correct, there is no such thing, but we still need a beast for the people-because until they see it lying dead in front of them, they’ll keep looking for it. That would mean more suspects, more trials, and more innocent people thrown into prison, tortured, or even burned at the stake.”

Simon leaned down to the dead Brutus, grabbing him by the neck and struggling to lift him up, so that the dog’s eyes seemed to glare diabolically at the group.

“The people need evil. It must lie dead in front of them, or they will never believe it has been vanquished,” he continued. “Brutus is our werewolf. He’s big, looks strange and dangerous, and, above all, has already been captured and is dead. We’ll never find a better scapegoat.”

“Just a moment,” Bartholomäus interrupted. “Do you think people will believe that my dear Brutus abducted and killed all these people?”

“Yes, a truly horrible beast.” Simon nodded with a dark, theatrical look in his eyes. “And not just that. Brutus prowled the streets of Bamberg and put a curse on the suffragan bishop, turning him into a werewolf as well. Believe me, when we show Brutus to the citizenry, many of them will remember having seen him-in the night, in a dark corner of the city, on their way home from the tavern. . They’ll remember how they barely managed to elude him, and even the guards up in the old castle will be convinced that this is the real werewolf.”

“You can just forget about that,” Lebrecht sneered, shaking his head. “You’ll never get away with it. The Bamberg bishop will never-”

“Suppose I told you we had His Excellency Bishop Johann Philipp von Schönborn on our side-a real, living elector?” Simon interrupted sternly. “Just today, Schönborn assured me he completely supports us. He wants to make sure this case does not turn into something like what happened forty years ago. How we prevent that is entirely up to us-those were his words exactly.” He smiled with pursed lips. “And Bishop Rieneck certainly won’t oppose Schönborn’s wishes, especially since he depends on the money he gets from his powerful friend to finish his palace. Don’t you agree?”

There was a tense silence, and Simon thought he could hear Jakob and Bartholomäus suddenly inhaling between their teeth in surprise.

“You have the support of the elector?” Martin Lebrecht gulped. “Well, that’s naturally something else. We, ah. . could at least give it a try.”

“How nice.” Simon winked, then clapped his hands with determination. “So I’ll ask you now for the following, Captain: Call your men over and tell them about this terrible werewolf. Tell them we killed the beast in a heroic struggle, in which we suffered some injured and dead. Then we’ll tie the beast to a heavy branch, carry it to the Green Market in Bamberg, and put it in the stocks for all to see, so they will know it’s dead and this horrible time has finally come to an end.”

Lebrecht hesitated, then pointed with concern to the unconscious Barbara and to Adelheid Rinswieser, who, like the others, had been following the conversation closely. “But how about those two? They know that’s not the truth.”

Simon turned to Adelheid and looked at her intently. He was sure Barbara would keep quiet, as it was doubtful she had even heard much of what was going on that night, but what about the apothecary’s wife?

It all depends on that, he thought. Will she help us? Will she understand how important this plan is for the future of the city?

“I shall keep my silence,” Adelheid finally said in a soft voice. “Everything will have happened just as you said. The werewolf abducted me. It cast a spell on me. I only awoke today in this hunting lodge, and that will be all I have to say.”

Simon breathed a sigh of relief, but the captain still appeared uncertain, biting his lips and studying the huge, bloody cadaver.

Suddenly Jakob Kuisl stepped forward, seized the beast in one hand, and held it up like a light bundle of fur.

“Damn it! Quit your foolish hesitation,” he growled. “I seldom compliment my son-in-law, as you know, but this time he really has a sensible idea. I’m telling you, string this beast up on the gallows in Bamberg for everyone to see, and then we’ll finally get back our peace and quiet-and I can return to Schongau.” He dropped the carcass as Bartholomäus, standing behind him, groaned.

“On the gallows? A dog?” A smile spread across the captain’s face, then he burst out laughing. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. But since we have the blessing of a real elector and the experience of two executioners, we’ll try it. Men! ”

He motioned to the guards, who quickly gathered around Brutus’s cadaver and began talking excitedly. Some crossed themselves or murmured a prayer, while others bent down carefully and tore off a piece of the hide or dipped their fingers in the congealing blood of the massive hound.

“There he is, our werewolf,” Martin Lebrecht proclaimed dramatically. “The hunt is finally over. Thank God! Now let’s take the beast to Bamberg and tell the people what has happened here.”

The men cheered, even as they cast furtive looks at the dead animal, as if fearing it might suddenly come back to life and attack them.

While the soldiers looked around in the forest for a suitable branch to transport the carcass, Jakob carefully picked up his daughter and made his way down to the river, where Answin’s boat was waiting, and Bartholomäus looked after Georg, who came along behind. It was a strangely moving scene as the Bamberg executioner and his nephew hobbled away together into the night. When Adelheid Rinswieser had also said her last farewell, Magdalena turned to Simon with a knowing look.