The Werewolf of Bamberg (28 page)

“You forget the nameless prostitute and the miller’s wife,” the chancellor interrupted harshly. He leafed through the papers in front of him. “A certain . . . Barbara Leupnitz. You can hardly classify her, or the whore, as nobles.” He smiled peevishly.

Samuel nodded. “You are right . . . but nevertheless—”

“What’s the point of splitting hairs like this?” the suffragan bishop inquired impatiently. He rose to his feet and angrily looked at the city physician while beads of sweat dripped from his forehead. “Yes, there are patricians among the victims, but these werewolves stop at nothing and spare no one! It’s quite possible that the faithful come together in the Bamberg Forest, and if we don’t strike soon, their numbers will continue to grow. Therefore . . .” Harsee paused, gripping the table tightly as if he was about to collapse. But then he got control of himself again and continued. “Therefore, starting today, guards—along with a courageous group of citizens—will patrol the forests in order to locate suspicious subjects. A so-called civilian militia has already come together, because they evidently no longer trust the prince-bishop . . .” He paused for a moment for his words to sink in, then continued. “In addition, I’m considering announcing a reward for any information leading to the apprehension of a werewolf. We will destroy this brood of vipers!”

Pale and bathed in sweat, he took a seat again. By now, Simon was certain that Harsee was coming down with a bad fever, but his sympathy had its limits.

“If you offer a reward, you’ll surely get a lot of tips,” the Schongau bathhouse owner mused, “but you have to wonder if these tips won’t just be invented. For money, people can see a lot—even werewolves.”

“Are you saying the Bambergers would lie?” the young councilor Steinhofer flared up.

“Well, a lie can take many forms,” Simon replied. “Sometimes there is nothing more to it than an assumption.”

“Just stop this nonsense,” the suffragan bishop growled, visibly exhausted. “The reward will be offered, and that’s the end of the discussion. His Excellency the prince-bishop already agreed, and the civilian militia will also officially begin its duties today. As soon as we find the suspects, the Inquisition subcommittee will convene to recommend torture and execution.” He sneered slightly as he once again mopped the sweat from his forehead. “I’m sure that this time His Excellency the prince-bishop will agree. He cannot afford opposing his flock in the long run. And now excuse me.” Looking even paler, Harsee struggled to stand up. “Recent events have been extremely . . . strenuous for us. The meeting is over.”

He stood up, pulled his black robe around him, and struggled toward the exit.

A bit later, Simon and Samuel were strolling across the great square in front of the cathedral, where the construction work on the bishop’s palace proceeded unabated.

“What did you mean before when you said that for the most part patricians are the victims?” Simon asked his friend.

Samuel shrugged. “It’s just one piece of the puzzle, nothing more. Suppose these murders were not committed by a wild monster but by someone trying to target the ruling class? Did you ever think about that?”

Simon stopped to think, puzzled. “But why would anyone do something like that?”

“I don’t know. I only know there is a struggle for supremacy in the city, an attempt to do away with competitors, and, as you know, the end justifies the means.” Samuel nodded sadly. “Take, for example, this chancellor Korbinian Steinkübler. He paid a lot of money to obtain his new position, and I know that some patricians, among them the missing old councilor Thadäus Vasold, were not at all happy about that. Many would have preferred to have Sebastian Harsee in that position. He comes from an esteemed family, and his father before him was the chancellor.”

“By the way, Harsee didn’t look at all well in the meeting today,” Simon said, frowning. “He appears to be seriously ill, probably some kind of fever.”

“Which brings me to the dean of the cathedral,” Samuel replied. “For a long time he’s had his eye on the position of suffragan bishop. Did you see his expression just before that when Harsee nearly broke down? I’m sure he’d like to see him dead.” Samuel shook his head. “Believe me, Simon, this council is one big gang of cutthroats. It’s a dog-eat-dog group.”

“So you think this werewolf is a hired killer sent to dispose of any competitors?” Simon mused, rubbing his chin. “That could be so for the two councilors, but how about the prostitute and the miller’s wife, or the apothecary’s wife and the Gotzendörfer widow? The latter two come from patrician families, but they’re women and not competing with anyone for an appointment.”

Samuel sighed. “You’re right, of course. As I said, it was just a thought. Even if my suspicion was right, things are moving in a different direction now. See for yourself.”

They were just passing the front portal of the cathedral, where a city guard was nailing a piece of paper to the door. A large crowd had already gathered around while another guard loudly declaimed the text of the announcement.

“The city council will do everything in its power to stop the activities of the beast in this city!” he cried. “All able-bodied citizens are summoned to report to the city hall where a city militia will soon be established. Information leading to the capture of the werewolf will be rewarded at the rate of five guilders for each suspect.”

The crowd broke out in cheers, and a number of them headed down to the city hall, shouting and rejoicing.

The two friends walked by, shaking their heads. “I fear we’ll soon have many more werewolves here in Bamberg,” said Samuel. “When this is all over, the prince-bishop will be lucky if there are enough councilmen left to govern the city.”

Adelheid Rinswieser huddled down in the corner of her room, waiting to hear her captor approaching.

He’ll be coming to get me soon. The moment is almost here.

Since the day before, she’d been both yearning for and fearing this moment. She knew that only the death of the other prisoner—that poor creature who in the last hours of his life had screamed, cried, and finally just whimpered and moaned—made her own escape possible.

My only chance.

Yesterday, the screams had continued all day, interrupted only by occasional murmuring, and then abruptly, around evening, they had stopped. Shortly after that, Adelheid had heard a door slam and something being dragged along the ground, as if a heavy body were being carried away. Then it turned silent again.

And Adelheid waited.

The apothecary’s wife was still chained to the wall and couldn’t move more than a few steps. There was a rusty lock around her right ankle that so far had resisted all her efforts to open it. She knew that when the stranger came to drag her into the horrible chamber, he’d have to open this lock. He’d done it once before, shortly after he’d abducted her, when he’d taken her to view the chamber. At that time she’d been too weak to offer any resistance. He’d wound a leather strap around her neck and led her there, her hands in manacles, like a whipped animal. This time, things would be different; she would know how to defend herself.

Adelheid had a weapon.

Just yesterday she’d beaten her earthenware cup against the wall so that, in addition to the many small pieces, there was one especially long, large shard. The man saw the broken pieces and brought her a new cup, but he hadn’t noticed the largest piece lying in her bed under the straw. It was pointed and sharp, like a small dagger. Adelheid reached for it and made a fist so the sharp point protruded between her index and middle finger.

She’d use it to slit the man’s throat.

She trembled and tried to calm herself by reciting simple Bible verses.

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want . . .”

The verses helped to control her wildly pounding heart and fill the long hours of waiting. Adelheid counted the hours using the small, flickering tallow candle that the man came in regularly to replace. Recently she thought she’d heard birds chirping or dogs barking, and one time even an angry growl. Was that perhaps the beast that had overpowered her? But it could also be her imagination playing tricks on her. Otherwise, an oppressive silence prevailed, like a heavy blanket stifling everything, interrupted only by her own voice.

“He makes me lie down in green meadows, he leads me beside the still waters . . .”

Suddenly she heard a door close. Steps drew nearer, became louder, and stopped outside her room. Then a key was inserted in the lock and the door squeaked as it opened.

Adelheid tried not to scream when she saw the man with the mask in the doorway. In the light of the flickering candle, all she could see of him was a dark silhouette.

“Now it’s your turn, witch,” he said, his voice sounding astonishingly tender. “We will now begin with the second degree. Are you ready?”

“Please, please . . . ,” she whimpered, turning toward the wall and secretly placing the shard in her hand. She tried to act as defenseless as possible. “I don’t know what you want from me . . .”

“You will soon find out.”

She could hear his shuffling feet in the dirty straw as he approached. He touched her gently, then wrapped the leather noose around her neck, pulling it so tight she could barely breathe.

If I move, he’ll tighten it all the way. I must be fast—faster than he is.

She was still turned away from her tormenter, listening to the rattling of the chains, whimpering and moaning to lull him into a false sense of security. Now the man reached for the lock, and she could hear the squeaking of the key as the lock opened, and the chain fell to the floor . . .
Now!

Adelheid turned around. For a brief moment she couldn’t see exactly where the man was in the dim light. He was kneeling on her left, where the chain was attached to the wall. Shouting furiously, she attacked, and at the same time could feel the noose tightening around her neck. Before it could completely cut off her airway, however, she was already on top of her torturer.

“You . . . you devil,” she gasped.

She raised her fist with the splintered piece of the cup, ready to strike, while the man under her lashed out at her, trying to escape. He was much stronger than she, and she could feel his powerful arms trying to push her away. The whites of his eyes shimmered through the slits in the hood, and Adelheid thought she saw fear welling up in them.

“You devil!” she screamed again.

With a final, furious scream, she swung at him with the shard, but in that moment he released his grip on her and, when the shard was a mere hand’s breadth from his throat, blocked her blow with his arm. With sweat streaming down her face, Adelheid reached under the mask of her opponent to scratch his cheeks or stab him in the eyes with her fingers, but she only managed to hit his hood. She clutched at the mask, pulled it . . .

And tore it from his face.

The shock of this horror suddenly having a face caused Adelheid to hesitate just an instant.

It was the instant that cost her her freedom.

The man pushed her away like a dirty bundle of rags. Adelheid hit the wall behind her, bloodying her back as she slammed against the large stones, and the shard fell from her hand. Then she felt a strong pull, and the leather noose tightened around her neck.

Squinting, Adelheid saw the man standing over her, pulling on the strap. She gasped for air, desperately, in vain. She clawed at the noose around her neck, but the leather had dug itself too deep into her skin. Colored circles danced before her eyes, faster and faster, and then came the darkness.

This is the end . . . This is . . .

After what seemed like an eternity—or was it only seconds?—Adelheid emerged from a sea of darkness. She gasped and gagged, and wonderful cool air now entered her lungs. She reached for the strap, trembling, but it hung loose around her neck.

But why . . .

Suddenly she heard someone sobbing softly. It seemed to come from far away. Shortly before losing consciousness again, Adelheid summoned up her last bit of strength and turned to see the man crouched in a corner.