To find the place where my story begins, I had to search an awfully long time. The former Church of St. Lawrence lies on the outskirts of Altenstadt, at the far end of St. Lawrence Street (Sankt-Lorenz-Straße). Though it dates back to the twelfth century, it was renovated and converted into a farmhouse in 1812. For this reason, I walked right past it twice on my first trip, winding up in the parking lot of a nearby company before I finally realized that the old ivy-covered building at the edge of town actually had once been a church. Only its massive blocks of igneous rock and the navelike structure suggested a time and place when fat priests like Andreas Koppmeyer preached to their flock. The babbling of the Schönach next to the house, the reed-covered river valley, and the roadway lined with mountain ash, however, conjured up that ancient locale in my mind’s eye. I’m sure they will for you as well.
In Roman times and also later, in the Middle Ages, Altenstadt must have been an important trading center. Here, the Via Claudia Augusta, the greatest Roman highway this side of the Alps, intersected with the medieval Salt Route, which stretched from the Berchtesgaden area to the Allgäu. But the many merchants and travelers in that area also attracted robbers and hostile armies, and in the thirteenth century, citizens decided, therefore, to move to a protected hill a few miles away. That marked the birth of the town of Schongau, while Altenstadt-the “old city”-became a sleepy town and remained so until modern times, like Sleeping Beauty in the fairy tale.
When the St. Lawrence Church was remodeled in the nineteenth century, they say a crypt was found containing some unusually large human bones. We don’t know whether this was the crypt of a Templar knight, but it’s an established fact that the order of knights was active here. Near the former little church, there is to this day a Templar Street (Templerstraße). Also, the bill of sale, dated 1289, an agreement between the Premonstratensians and a certain Fridericus Wildergraue, “Supreme Master of the Templars in Alemania and Sclavis,” still exists. When I first saw a copy of this document, I knew at once that this was the start of a new novel.
Please follow me now to the center of town and…
THE BASILICA OF ST. MICHAEL IN ALTENSTADT
Within sight of the property formerly belonging to the Templars is my favorite church in the Priests’ Corner. Amid all the baroque splendor of the region, the Basilica of St. Michael, with its simplicity and large dimensions-its huge towers, massive outer walls, and rounded arches-looks more like a Romanesque castle than a sacral building.
Over the main portal, a relief depicts a battle between two knights and a dragon, which gave me material for my second riddle. In the opinion of the local historian Helmut Schmidbauer, the two warriors are Enoch, the son of Cain, and the prophet Elijah-and I certainly accepted his opinion without question. His words, by God, are sacred! Anyone who wants to convince him of the contrary is welcome to try, but be prepared for the same Bavarian Priests’ Corner stubbornness you see in Jakob Kuisl.
The “Great God of Altenstadt,” the huge crucifix inside, dates from 1200 and is famous throughout Bavaria and beyond. Whenever I stand before it, looking into the rough-cut, sad, kindly face of the Savior, I always feel like Simon, an enlightened man suddenly infused with the Holy Spirit. And I like to imagine a piece of the actual True Cross secured inside this simple crucifix, even though, unfortunately, not a shred of evidence supports this.
All that remains of the fourteen auxiliary saints in the north aisle is a fragment, so no one can prove that a holy St. Fridericus wasn’t among them at one time. As for the memorial plaque on the exterior church wall, I’ll freely confess that’s my own invention.
Now let us set out on the way to…
Even though no riddle is hidden here, Schongau is the centerpiece of my first novel, as it is of this one. Schongau is a quiet little town with a medieval walkway along the battlements and many of the historical buildings that also appear in Jakob Kuisl’s adventures.
Here’s my suggestion for walking through town in the footsteps of my ancestor:
Start your trip out, just as the coffee-lover Simon might have, with a cup of black espresso in the Marienplatz; then enter the Ballenhaus, which is easy to recognize by its stepped gable. Here, in the former town hall, you can visit the second-floor meeting room where the clerk Johann Lechner and the Schongau patricians sealed the fate of the Scheller Gang. The beautiful carved wood ceiling dates from the sixteenth century, and the green tile stove plays a small, but not inconsequential role in my first novel.
At one time the Golden Star (Goldener Stern) Inn stood next to the Ballenhaus. It belonged to the Semer family, and in this novel it’s where Benedikta lodges when she visits Schongau. Today it’s home to a music school. The rich plasterwork and the former private chapel inside will remind you that, at one time, only the upper classes visited the Stern. Simon and Jakob Kuisl probably patronized the shabbier establishments in the tavern quarter behind the Ballenhaus.
From there, take the Old Gate (Alten Einlass) through the city wall and turn right, where you’ll see the Witches’ Tower (Hexenturm), where more than sixty women awaited execution in the famous Schongau witch trials.
Turning left at the Old Gate will take you to the Lech Gate (Lechtor) and along the unfortunately rather busy Lechberg Street (Lechbergstraße). The former Tanners’ Quarter is located near the raft landing where a bridge now crosses the river toward Peiting. Here, outside the city, where tanners plied their foul-smelling trade, was the house of the executioner Jakob Kuisl. Although nothing remains of that house, the Lech flows by just as slowly and lazily as it did when Magdalena set out on the ferry to Augsburg.
Go back up to town and take the walk along the battlements in the direction of the St. Sebastian Cemetery. If you’ve read The Hangman’s Daughter, you’ll remember this cemetery as the sinister backdrop against which Jakob Kuisl and Simon Fronwieser exhume children’s corpses. In those days the dungeon was located next to the cemetery, along with the Schongau executioner’s torture chamber. Until modern times, justice was meted out here; now, fortunately, it’s under the jurisdiction of the police. A bit farther down the road, you’ll come across the office of the district administrator. It was at this location that the ducal castle used to stand, the same spot where the clerk Johann Lechner planned the hunt for the robbers with Jakob Kuisl.
I highly recommend walking past the medieval Max Gate (Maxtor) to visit the Schongau City Museum, which is housed in a former church hospice. Look for the executioner’s sword, the portrait of Johann Lechner’s father, and the Kuisls’ cupboard, which served my ancestors as a medicine cabinet.
Finished?
Then you’ve earned a good supper. Tomorrow we’ll head to…
Peiting is the village on the other side of the Lech. Don’t be disappointed here: All that remains of the Guelph Castle on the hill is some rubble. Nevertheless, a short walk up the hill is worthwhile, as you will be able to see the Hoher Peißenberg from up there. A meadow of waist-high grass covers the foundation of what was once the rulers’ castle complex, but in the woods, you can still see the oaks that lined the former entryway to the castle.
In the year 1155, Emperor Barbarossa himself visited the Guelph ruler in this castle. Later the castle became the property of the Staufers and then the Wittelsbachs. After an earthquake in 1384 partially damaged the structure, the fortress began losing its importance. In 1632 it was dismantled and hauled away, and by the time Simon and Benedikta visited there in the winter of 1660, all that really remained was a ruin. What that looked like is just a matter of conjecture-yours and mine.