Oliver Pötzsch - The Werewolf of Bamberg

Magdalena nodded and took a gulp of the hot mulled wine. It tasted wonderful, both sharp and sweet, and not too strong. But she couldn’t help thinking of her father, evidently in trouble again.

Trying to change the subject, she asked, “When will the wedding take place?”

“This Sunday, in just five days. Just imagine, even though your uncle is the executioner here in Bamberg, the city gave him permission to use the wedding house-that’s the addition to the large tavern over in the harbor. They’ll give us the little room there. Nearly a hundred guests are invited.” Katharina smiled. “I assume my father made use of his influence with the city councilors. As you may know, he’s one of the city clerks.”

Magdalena nodded. It was, in fact, unusual that a hangman was allowed to celebrate his wedding just like any local shoemaker or tailor. In many parts of Germany, executioners were shunned; in the streets, people went out of their way to avoid them, believing that a hangman could bring misfortune with a single glance. Magdalena couldn’t help remembering what her brother Georg had said to her the previous evening.

You’d like it here, Sister.

Secretly she watched Katharina, who was now humming as she dashed through the room, sweeping cobwebs from the windows. Bartholomäus’s fiancée was in her midthirties, and it was a wonder she was still unmarried. Though Katharina wasn’t especially beautiful, and was clearly too fat, Magdalena could appreciate what her uncle saw in the woman. She was a good catch, strong and healthy, and her friendliness was genuine and contagious. Magdalena was surprised that such a nice person could tolerate a grouch like Bartholomäus.

But that’s just the way it was with Mother and Father, it occurred to her, and she smiled mischievously.

“What are you thinking about?” Katharina asked, but at that moment the steps began to creak, and Simon and a sleepy-looking Barbara entered the room. Katharina greeted the new arrivals just as warmly as she had Magdalena, but then stopped when she smelled something burning.

“Oh, God, the porridge!” she cried out, running out into the hallway. “I shouldn’t have left the boy alone at the stove.”

Simon sat down at the table next to Magdalena, took a piece of bread, and dunked it in the wine.

“It seems she’s not an old battle-ax, as you suspected,” he said with a smile between bites, and gestured with his head toward Katharina.

Magdalena shook her head. “No, certainly not. Clearly Peter and Paul like their new aunt, too. At least, they haven’t played any tricks on her yet, and it’s already eight in the morning. That’s pretty unusual.” She grinned, but then her expression grew serious. “On the other hand, Father seems to have a problem.”

She quickly told Simon and Barbara what had happened to Jakob and Bartholomäus the night before.

Simon groaned and passed his hand through his hair. “It’s enough to drive you crazy. No sooner has your father come to town than the first cadaver shows up.”

“Oh, come now. There was one before we even set foot in town. True, they are attracted to him like bees to honey-but perhaps that’s the way it is for hangmen.”

Simon took another piece of the fresh, delicious-smelling bread that Katharina had no doubt baked earlier that morning. “Well, at least this time I assume he’s not suspected of being the perpetrator, like he was back in Regensburg,” he said with a full mouth. “That alone is progress.”

Magdalena remembered with horror her time in Regensburg, six years ago, when her father had been suspected of murder and was tortured, and could only be saved at the last moment. Shortly after that, she and Simon had married.

“I, for one, don’t want to sit around here all day waiting for Father and Uncle Bartholomäus,” said Barbara, who until then had been sitting listlessly, playing with her hair. “I want to see something of the city.” She turned to Magdalena and said in a pleading tone, “How about if we go down to the marketplace together?” Her eyes sparkled expectantly. “Please! I’ve never been to such a large city, and now in the light of day it doesn’t look as scary as it did last night.”

Magdalena gave her a conspiratorial wink. “I don’t see any reason not to. Unless. .” With a questioning look she turned around to Katharina, who was just entering the room hand in hand with Paul, who had porridge smeared all over him. “Unless my future aunt needs me today to help with preparations for the wedding.”

Katharina waved her off with a laugh. “If you can do a little shopping for me, feel free to leave the boys here and go sightseeing in the city. I hear that my future brother-in-law needs some tobacco-which stinks at least as bad as burned porridge.” She opened a window to let the smell out. “Well, it looks like we’ll have to make a second breakfast.”

Simon quickly stood up and carefully looked through some books lying on the table next to Peter.

“Many thanks for the bread and wine, Katharina. If you don’t mind, I’ll take this chance to visit my old friend Samuel.” Magdalena frowned, but he looked to her with pleading eyes. “You know that I also came to Bamberg to see him. He’s now a respected physician-apparently he even treats the bishop himself. I hope I may be allowed to have a look at some books that have just been printed. There are a few interesting new theories about the circulation of blood. .”

“Just stop.” Magdalena rolled her eyes with annoyance. “It would be nice if your interest in books brought in some money from time to time. Other bathhouse owners do bloodlettings without giving much thought to circulation.”

“Other bathhouse owners are quacks,” Simon replied bitterly.

“Now just stop fighting,” Katharina interrupted. “Enjoy the day, each of you in your own way. I don’t want to see any sad faces around me so soon before my wedding.” She led the two boys over into the pantry. “And you two can help me now to stir a new pot of porridge. Let’s see if we can find some more honey.”

Magdalena smiled at her younger sister. “It looks like this could turn out to be a nice day.” She stood up and buttoned her bodice. “Well, then, come along before there’s nothing left to buy but mushy cabbage leaves.”

Jakob Kuisl’s stomach growled so loudly he thought for a moment some monster had crept up behind him. It was late in the afternoon and several hours since he’d had his last skimpy meal. He stopped for a moment, wiped the sweat from his brow, and now, cursing under his breath, went back to helping his brother pull the filthy, foul-smelling cart through one more narrow lane along the city moat.

He wanted more than anything else just to sit back and smoke his pipe, but they’d been working since early morning and hadn’t returned to the hangman’s house, where his future sister-in-law would, he hoped, be awaiting him with the promised tobacco.

It had been a long night. They’d followed their orders and taken the corpse of the young prostitute to the office of the city guards, but the captain on duty, by the name of Martin Lebrecht, was not available. They’d first tried to see him earlier that morning, to inform him of what had happened in the night, but he was suddenly busy with other things. Jakob had the vague feeling that the guards, and especially their captain, had something to hide. Finally he’d left with Bartholomäus and Georg to take the dead horse out of town. Georg had stayed in the Bamberg Forest to flay and butcher the carcass, while Jakob and Bartholomäus brought the empty cart to city hall, where the two executioners would finally be cross-examined as witnesses.

After a few more bends and dead ends, Bartholomäus reached a shed near the river and pushed the cart in between two rotted boats stacked inside. He wiped his hands on his apron and headed for the nearby stone bridge that led straight to the city hall.