Oliver Pötzsch - The Werewolf of Bamberg

Suddenly, Magdalena felt a chill in the cold building, and goose bumps appeared on her bare arms. She picked up her basket and package, and bowed slightly.

“I enjoyed meeting you, Master Markus,” she said, “even if your story was a rather sad one. Until tomorrow, then, at the performance.” Suddenly her face broke out in a smile. “Oh, and say good-bye to Juliet. Perhaps I’ll bring her some treats on my next visit.”

Magdalena turned and hurried down the stairs toward the wide portal. Not until she reached the bustling harbor did warmth gradually return to her arms and legs.

BAMBERG, NOON, OCTOBER 27, 1668 AD

For the first time in weeks, Simon felt truly liberated.

The medicus and bathhouse owner wandered aimlessly through the narrow lanes, breathing in the smells of the city-not exactly pleasant, but at least interesting. The prevailing stench of garbage and feces did not completely mask the smell of the river, the sour wine, and the ever-present beer in the taverns, and as he passed through one of the many market squares, he thought he could even smell a faint hint of clove and nutmeg in the air.

In recent years, Simon had felt more and more confined in Schongau; that was the main reason he had decided to close his prosperous bathhouse for a while and accompany the Kuisls on the long trip to Bamberg. He understood the risk of doing that, as a second bathhouse had opened in town, and in the past year a new doctor had even set up business. Simon considered the man a complete charlatan, but that didn’t keep people from buying his highly overpriced and worthless tinctures and medications-just because the man had studied in the exotic city of Bologna on the other side of the Alps.

As Simon strolled through the little back streets-dodging carts and passersby and struggling in vain to avoid stepping into the deep piles of garbage in his new, freshly polished leather boots-his thoughts wandered back to Ingolstadt, where he had studied long ago. That’s where he had met Samuel, who came from a Jewish family that had converted to Christianity years ago. Samuel was smart and well read. But, just like Simon, he had a fondness for a good jug of wine, expensive clothing, and, above all, gambling-a passion that had led the two young students to many a disreputable tavern and had finally cost Simon his expensive place at the university. After just three semesters he had spent all his money on drink and gambling and had to return home to Schongau-a failure for which his father, the Schongau medicus Bonifaz Fronwieser, had never forgiven him.

Nor had he forgiven himself.

Samuel, on the other hand, had enjoyed great success. Since that time, he’d become the official doctor of Bamberg and, on occasion, had even attended the prince-bishop in letting his blood. The two former students corresponded from time to time, and Samuel, who was still single, always inquired about Simon’s family. So Simon was excited when they received the invitation to visit Bamberg. He wanted to finally see his old friend Samuel again, and he hoped to hear about recent advances in medicine that might be useful to him in Schongau.

Besides, Simon enjoyed-more than he wanted to admit to himself-wandering by himself through the little alleyways of Bamberg. He loved his two boys, but they could be incredibly tiring-especially Paul, a little hellion who tended to break out in temper tantrums. Simon hadn’t said when he would be back, so he was free to enjoy these precious moments visiting the many churches and chapels, buying a package of his beloved coffee beans in the spice market (despite the outrageous cost), and shopping for clothing fabric.

As Simon strolled past St. Martin’s Church, he saw a young girl standing by the church portal. Her hair had been shorn; she wore braids of straw and held a wooden tablet informing passersby that she’d had a casual affair with a young man prior to marriage. Some of those passing by spat on the ground in front of the girl, while others regarded her with pity. Simon’s face darkened; he couldn’t help thinking about how he and Magdalena had also been exposed to mockery and hatred in Schongau, before they’d finally been permitted to marry.

It’s always the same. Bathhouse owners, amateur doctors, and hangman’s children. . we’ll always be shunned as dishonorable, all our lives. Probably even in the sophisticated city of Paris they’d be singing lewd songs, making fun of us.

After stopping several times to get directions, Simon finally stood in front of the Burgher’s Enclave, adjacent to the distinguished Jesuit college, near the Hay Market. Several buildings surrounded an elegant interior courtyard full of flowers and fruit trees. Simon had learned that the head city clerk and the city physician were housed there. Gazing on the freshly roofed buildings, carefully pruned apple trees, and meticulously clean yard, he couldn’t help but think of his own wretched bathhouse back home.

Perhaps Father was right, after all. I’m just a miserable failure.

Then he thought of Magdalena, the boys, and all the exciting things that had happened since then, and his gloom evaporated.

Excitedly Simon knocked on the door that he had been directed to, and waited. After a while he heard footsteps, and an elderly woman-presumably Samuel’s housekeeper-opened the door. She was haggard, severe looking, unusually tall for a woman, and had her hair tied in a tightly wound bun. She cast a disapproving glance down at the short bathhouse owner in his rumpled clothing.

“The doctor is not in,” the haggard old woman snarled. “If you have an ailment that needs tending, come back tomorrow.” She scowled. “On Friday mornings, Master Samuel treats common people.”

Simon choked back the nasty reply on the tip of his tongue. “I’m an old friend of his,” he said instead, smiling. “Where could I see him now?”

The housekeeper pursed her lips. “People like you wouldn’t be admitted there. Herr Doktor is over at Geyerswörth Castle with His Holiness the bishop. One of his”-she hesitated-“uh, chambermaids has a woman’s ailment that only Master Samuel is able to cure. But that’s no business of yours.”

“Aha, a chambermaid. I’ll wager she’s a bit younger, prettier, and, no doubt, more affectionate than your average chambermaid. Well, in any case, good day to you.”

While the housekeeper was still frowning and trying to figure out the meaning of what he’d just said, Simon had already turned away and left the Burgher’s Enclave. As it always did when someone alluded to his low social standing, a barely controllable rage rose up in him. Once again he swore to himself that his children and grandchildren would someday be better off than their father, who, despite all his talent, had made it no further in life than the post of a dishonorable bathhouse owner in a backwater town. Would things have turned out differently if he’d completed his studies in Ingolstadt? Would he, too, have become the personal physician of a duke or bishop?

Simon was still seething as he turned into a small lane leading to the hangman’s house, along the city moat. Then, on the spur of the moment, he decided to give it a try, after all, and go to Geyerswörth Castle to look for Samuel. There was no reason for the old woman to have turned him away so rudely; his clothing, though a bit rumpled, was still quite appropriate. His petticoat breeches and smart feathered hat had cost him a fortune. Simon attached great importance to his appearance, trying to make up for his small stature.

At the next corner he inquired about the way to the castle and was directed toward the left branch of the Regnitz. Soon he could make out, a bit upstream and not far from the city hall, a long island on whose northern half stood a magnificent building decorated with oriels and turrets. Stained-glass and lead-lined crown-glass windows reflected the light of the afternoon sun. It looked like a slightly smaller version of a royal hunting lodge. Suddenly, Simon was no longer so sure he should ask to see his friend Samuel in this splendid building.