Oliver Pötzsch - The Werewolf of Bamberg

Simon looked up at him, delighted. “Oh, of course! What are they, what-”

Magdalena yawned loudly. When Simon started talking about books, there was usually no end to it. “Katharina’s right, it’s already late,” she said as she stood up. “Besides, I promised to help her tomorrow.”

“I’m so glad for the help.” Her aunt-to-be smiled. “We must pick out the material for my dress and cut it to size, and given my figure, it will take a couple of rolls. Thank you very much, Magdalena.” She clapped her hands as if trying to scare off an evil spirit. “A little sleep should do everyone some good and drive away the gloomy thoughts, so let’s hurry and get to bed.” She wagged her finger in mock admonishment. “And remember, no more quarreling in the family. After the wedding you can rip each other to shreds, for all I care.”

Hauser frowned. “I hope there will be no occasion to do that. Or is there?” He looked all around. “Where is Bartholomäus, anyway?”

Katharina brushed off the remark lightly. “Oh, he’s just gone off to sulk a bit. It’s nothing serious, Father, believe me. I’ll tell you all about it on the way home.”

She put on her coat and hugged Magdalena once more. “Take care that Bartl and your father don’t squabble too much, will you?” she whispered. “It would be the best wedding present you could give me.”

Magdalena nodded silently, and with one last nod, Katharina and Hieronymus Hauser stepped out into the rain.

Everyone at table rose, each heading for their own bedroom, except for Jakob Kuisl, who remained, puffing rings of smoke and watching them rise slowly toward the ceiling. When Magdalena turned around one last time to look at her father, she felt as if she were being pursued by hordes of strange, hairy creatures with long fangs.

Then the beasts slipped out through cracks in the windows and disappeared into the night.

THE BAMBERG FOREST, MORNING, OCTOBER 28, 1668 AD

The yelping of the hounds echoed through the forest-a hoarse, endless, unsettling howl that got on Jakob’s nerves. It grew louder, then suddenly died away, then morphed into a growling and whimpering as the knacker Aloysius finally tossed the bloody pieces of meat they’d been begging for into their kennel.

The Schongau hangman watched with interest as the hounds, almost twenty of them, fought over the food. Most were agile hunting dogs with black, shiny coats; a few brawny mastiffs were kept in their own kennel next to the others. All the animals were muscular and well fed, baring their fangs as they growled and tore at the large pieces of meat until all that was left of the horse carcass was a few hairy scraps.

“Good dog, good dog,” said Aloysius cheerfully as if talking to some little lap dogs. “Here’s a little more for you. Enjoy it!”

He wiped his bloody hands on his leather apron, reached for a bucket of steaming innards, and tossed the contents into the enclosure. The dogs pounced on it, barking loudly. Jakob had met the inscrutable hangman’s journeyman the day before, when he and Bartholomäus had delivered the horse carcass. Since then, two goats and a pig had died of some mysterious disease. To avoid a possible epidemic, the law required all carcasses to be brought to the knacker in the Bamberg Forest as soon as possible, for processing and disposal.

As usual, Jakob Kuisl was fascinated to see all the ways a dead body could be put to use. The horsehair was used to fill mattresses, or to make sieves and cheap wigs; the hooves and horns were ground into a powder and spread over the fields as fertilizer; and the boiled, foul-smelling fat was used in making expensive, sweet-smelling soap.

We turn garbage into gold, he thought, and they pay us with rusty pennies.

There was actually no reason for Jakob to return to the Bamberg Forest that day, though he was curious to find out about this so-called beast. Even more, though, he had been driven by his longing for his son, whom he hoped to find here. He and Georg had never talked much with each other, yet there was an affinity between them that had not faded away over the years. Despite the great distance between them, Jakob had always felt close to his son, so the quarrel the other day had disturbed him more than he even admitted to himself. What was it, again, that Georg had said?

You just can’t bear the fact that your brother is more successful than you are. .

Is that what it was? Was he really jealous of his younger brother, the one he’d despised so much back then-little Bartl, the slower-witted of the two brothers, who’d looked at every torture as an interesting experiment and had always gotten along better with animals than with people?

Or does reuniting with him remind me of the guilt I can never wash away?

A foul smell stung his nose. When he turned around, he saw his son, Georg, along with Bartholomäus, stirring a large steaming kettle of lye that hung over a fireplace in front of the knacker’s house. The one-story blockhouse was solidly built and the size of a small but formidable castle. In addition, there were a few sheds, a dog kennel, and a smoking coal pile. Taken together, the buildings formed a defensive area surrounded by fences and thorny hedges, standing in a large clearing in the middle of the forest.

“Well, what do you think of my dogs?” With a slight limp in his gait, Bartholomäus walked over to his elder brother and pointed proudly at the hunting dogs, who were yelping and panting as they fought among themselves for the last scraps of food. “It took forever to train them, but they’re fast and untiring, and they do everything I tell them. They’re the best hunting dogs anywhere.”

Jakob frowned. “And you , a hangman, go hunting?”

Bartholomäus laughed and waved dismissively. “Of course not. I only train them for the Bamberg prince-bishop. He’s crazy about dogs and other animals. His Excellency is very happy with me, above all because I tend to his beloved menagerie. I feed the bears there and clean out the cages.” He grinned and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. “His Excellency pays me quite well for my work. In a few more years, perhaps I’ll buy a larger house somewhere near the Green Market.”

“Just be careful then that the people don’t set your expensive house on fire,” Jakob warned him. “People don’t like it when dishonorable folks like us come into money and become their equals.”

“Maybe in Schongau, but things are different in Bamberg.” Bartholomäus pointed at Georg, who was still standing at the boiling kettle and stirring it with a long stick. “Ask your son. He likes the way he’s treated here.” A faint smile passed over his lips. “And your daughter Barbara would no doubt like it here, too.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well. .” Bartholomäus paused for a moment, then nodded in the direction of Aloysius, who was standing in the kennel surrounded by the dogs. The knacker was wearing a long leather jacket smeared with blood and dirt, and a glove on one hand that one of the dogs had just sunk its teeth into. “Aloysius has been looking for a wife for a long time,” Bartholomäus continued in a soft voice. “He isn’t the handsomest fellow in the world, but as the Bamberg knacker and hangman’s journeyman, he makes a good living. In addition, he’s loyal and reliable. When I’m not here, he does all the work of the knacker by himself here in the forest-flaying, grinding bones, caring for the dogs. . A little feminine companionship would be good for him.”

Jakob laughed loudly. “You don’t know my daughter, Bartl. She’s got a mind of her own. Years ago I tried to marry off Magdalena to my cousin in Steingaden, but she couldn’t be talked out of marrying her Simon.”