Oliver Pötzsch - The Werewolf of Bamberg

It was Master Samuel who finally managed to bring an end to the uproar-with a simple trick.

“Let us all pray for our friend Thadäus Vasold,” he intoned loudly while making the sign of the cross. “I believe he deserves our thoughts and prayers. Or does someone think differently?”

The members of the council paused in their squabbling and finally started praying quietly while still casting suspicious glances at one another.

“Amen,” the suffragan bishop finally said, relieved, and licked his dry lips before continuing in a piercing voice. “Dear members of our committee, we may hold different opinions as to the exact nature of this werewolf, but at least there is no doubt this beast actually exists, given what happened last night. Vasold’s servant saw this monster and unequivocally recognized it as a werewolf.”

“Just like the drunken watchman two nights before,” Samuel murmured, so softly that no one except Simon heard him. “And Vasold’s servant is just as dumb, as everyone in the city knows. He’d think a calf is a werewolf, if you just keep suggesting it enough. But no one here is considering that.”

“Is there something you wanted to tell us, Master Samuel?” asked the suffragan bishop sharply. “Or are you only talking to your learned friend?”

The physician shook his head. “I was just saying that the people we’ve heard from so far are not the most reliable eyewitnesses, but I must confess that it’s true, the honorable councilor Vasold is already the fifth resident to have vanished. In any case, we must find out why these people have disappeared.”

“Listen, he must confess. ” With a sarcastic smile, the suffragan bishop looked around at the attendees. Once again, Simon noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

“In this regard, it might be interesting for members of the commission to know,” Harsee continued smugly, “that Herr Doktor released a suspect yesterday on his own authority, a shepherd from the Bamberg Forest who has been peddling magic potions here in the city. A few concerned citizens reported that to me shortly before our meeting.”

The crowd began to murmur and hiss, and many of those present glared at Samuel.

“The magic potions were arnica and crushed bark from oak trees,” the physician replied, “harmless ingredients. Both are used in the medical treatment of animals, as the learned Doctor Fronwieser here can confirm.”

Simon was stunned when Samuel turned toward him to confirm that statement, but finally the little medicus and bathhouse owner nodded, trying to sound as wise and professional as possible.

“Ah, indeed. I have written a paper about that myself,” he said, “‘On the Nature and Growth of Medicinal Plants, with Special Emphasis on Coltsfoot, and Its Effects, as Well as on Arnica, and-’”

“Very well, very well.” Harsee waved him off peevishly. “We don’t need a complicated monologue, just a brief opinion. It’s quite possible they were just harmless herbs, but a thorough questioning of the suspect would have been appropriate.”

“Your Excellency, what do you know about this troupe of actors that has been visiting here for the last few days?” asked the provost of the cathedral, a gaunt, anxious-looking man with a pinched face. “The people who come to me for confession have told me some dreadful stories. They tell of Satanic incantations on the stage, and even today, on our sacred day of rest, they portrayed a devil dancing. Could it be possible the werewolf has been attracted here by this witchcraft?”

Sebastian Harsee nodded. “That’s an important consideration, Your Excellency. These magical doings performed under the pretense of edification are a thorn in my side, as well,” he said with a sigh. “But unfortunately the prince-bishop doesn’t look at it that way. Along with his many beloved animals, the theater is his great passion, and I’ve even heard that a second troupe of actors recently arrived in Bamberg. His Excellency is considering granting them permission to spend the winter in Bamberg, as well. We’ll have to keep a close eye on these immoral persons.”

“Keep an eye on them? Is that all we’re going to do?” Trembling with anger, a middle-aged councilor rose to his feet. He was wearing a gray coat on which a mortar and pestle were depicted-the emblem of the apothecaries’ guild. “This is the monster that presumably ripped my Adelheid apart like a deer, and you are going to do nothing more than keep an eye on things?”

“Why was the woman roaming about in the forest at night?” a younger councilor hissed under his breath. “She was probably gathering magic herbs there. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn she was somehow working with the werewolf and up to no good.”

The apothecary wheeled around. “What did you just say?”

“What did I just say, Master Rinswieser?” the other man replied, looking around for support from the others. He was wearing the fancy clothing of a nouveau-riche dandy and seemed quite sure of himself. “Well, your Adelheid watered down those tinctures. Word gets around.”

“How dare you, Master Steinhofer?” He stormed across the room to the younger man. “If only Adelheid’s father could hear that. He and your own father were once members of the council, they were friends, and now you denounce his daughter as a witch, you. . you. .”

“Don’t forget that my beloved Johanna has also disappeared,” his opponent interrupted, stroking his goatee. “And that was just after she’d bought some strange tincture from your wife.”

“And I heard she ran pell-mell away from you after an argument in which even chairs went flying through the air,” the apothecary shot back. “No doubt she couldn’t stand being around you anymore. By the way, you don’t seem too concerned that your young fiancée has simply vanished into thin air. Did you marry her only for the dowry?”

“That’s slander!”

The two men were about to come to blows when the bishop’s chancellor suddenly stood up and spread his arms, trying to calm them down. With his enormous rolls of fat, he looked more like a tavern keeper than one of the highest dignitaries in Bamberg.

“My dear colleagues,” he began jovially, “we must not quarrel. I think I have a solution. Even if His Excellency, the venerable Prince-Bishop Philipp Rieneck, is not among us, I believe we can speak on his behalf. We, uh. . should think about setting up an inquisition.”

“An inquisition?” Master Samuel frowned. “Why do we need that? Don’t we already have this Werewolf Commission?”

“I believe the honorable chancellor is completely right.” Sebastian Harsee smiled, and it seemed to Simon that the suffragan bishop was quite happy with the direction the meeting had taken. A quick glance at the chancellor even made him suspect that this move had been prearranged.

“Forty years ago, at the time of the Bamberg witch trials,” Harsee continued, “quick action was called for in order to get control of the many suspects, so an inquisition composed of only a few members was set up, with the task of deciding who had to be tortured. Their conclusions were presented to the prince-bishop, who signed the death sentences.”

“Only a handful of people are to make the life-or-death decisions?” Master Samuel shook his head in dismay. “But what, then, is the purpose of this commission-”

“I suggest a vote,” the suffragan bishop interrupted. He looked slowly around the table, his gaze resting on one attendee after another. “All those present are naturally above all suspicion. None of the accusations made here will be considered-we are concerned only with the strangers in the city. The actors, for example-but also gypsies and other itinerant people. I will personally appoint the members of this commission if necessary-naturally only with the blessing of His Excellency, the prince-bishop. Are all in agreement?”