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The dead priest lay in an open coffin in front of the altar, and the church was so cold a thin layer of ice had formed on his face.

Pausing in his sermon for a moment to cast a disapproving eye at the late arrival, Father Elias Ziegler now continued. His nose was as red as a ripe apple, and Simon guessed he’d already helped himself to the communion wine that morning.

“Andreas Koppmeyer was one of us,” the priest said unctuously, “a bear of a man who understood well the cares and fears of his flock, because these were concerns he shared with them.”

A whimper sounded from one of the pews in back, and Simon turned around to see Magda, the fat housekeeper from the rectory, who took out a large, dirty handkerchief and blew her nose loudly. The skinny rector, Abraham Gedler, seemed close to tears, too, and clutched a prayer book tightly, as if trying to squeeze blood out of it.

“But the Lord alone knows when our hour is at hand,” the priest continued, “and so we lay all our hopes and cares in God’s hands…”

Simon’s thoughts wandered to Magdalena and her trip. No one was safe from robbers, even on the Lech-to say nothing of the way back by road. He hoped nothing had happened to her. Her father should never have allowed her to go! She was much too young and naive for such a trip, Simon thought. Unlike Benedikta. The woman from Landsberg might be only a few years older, but she seemed so much more mature. Simon looked straight ahead. Even now, in the face of her brother’s death, Benedikta Koppmeyer seemed composed. The physician couldn’t find anyone else in the congregation who might be a relative. Presumably, Benedikta and Andreas were the only siblings, and the woman had no children. At least she hadn’t spoken of any. Simon was both fascinated and irritated by this elegant lady, who could speak French and, only minutes after, kill a robber in cold blood. He was both attracted and repelled by her. He sighed, knowing that this mix could have fatal consequences.

Simon glanced up at the Great God of Altenstadt, who looked down benevolently and all-knowingly on the faithful. He couldn’t help the physician with his problems, either.

“Let us pray.”

The priest’s words tore Simon from his reveries, and he stood up with the others to recite the Lord’s Prayer.

“Pater noster, qu ies in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum…”

When Pastor Elias Ziegler had finished, he raised his head to the Great God of Altenstadt and spread his arms as if in benediction. Then he spoke in a clear voice.

What the priest said next nearly knocked Simon over, and he struggled to get a grip on the arm of the pew.

This is what I learned among mortal men as the greatest wonder. That there was neither the earth nor the heaven above. Nor was there any tree nor mountain. Neither any star at all, nor any other thing…”

The voice of Elias Ziegler echoed through the dome of the basilica like that of a prophet. Here was the riddle from the crypt in the Castle Hill chapel.

“You are demanding what from me?” Johann Lechner looked at the hangman in disbelief and dropped the pen he was about to use to sign a few papers. His lips formed a narrow, bloodless line in a pale face, and his eyes darted nervously back and forth. The endless paperwork and, above all, his growing worries about the town had kept him awake the last few nights. Lechner’s skin sometimes looked as transparent as a blank sheet of parchment, but the strength of his will and tenacity were legendary-and feared-far beyond the borders of Schongau.

With Jakob Kuisl and a retinue of two bailiffs, he had hurried back to the ducal palace after their meeting in the dungeon. He walked ahead the entire time, and the guards struggled to keep up.

In his office, Lechner gestured to Kuisl to take a seat and then went back to working on his documents. Only after some time had passed did he ask Kuisl what had happened during his conversation with the robber chief. When Jakob Kuisl told him, the little artery on Lechner’s pale forehead swelled up and turned a fiery red.

“Naturally, we’ll set an example and break Scheller on the wheel. Anything else is out of the question!” he exclaimed angrily as he continued signing his papers. “I’ll go to the city council today and urge a speedy execution.”

“If you do that, we’ll never learn where Scheller hid the loot,” Kuisl said, taking out his pipe.

“Then squeeze it out of him. Start with the thumbscrews, put him on the rack, and stretch him with millstones. Stick burning matches under his fingernails…It doesn’t matter how you torture him. You’ll think of the right method.”

Kuisl shook his head. “Scheller is a tough customer. It’s likely he won’t talk, even when I torture him. So why waste your time and money?”

The clerk glared at Kuisl. “What kind of loot would they have?” he said finally. “A few guilders and farthings, maybe a lice-ridden fur coat. Who cares about that?”

Kuisl’s gaze wandered almost apathetically around the room. Documents were piled up on tables and shelves, awaiting action by the clerk. Lechner’s breakfast-a mug of wine and a piece of white bread-lay untouched on a stool.

Finally, the hangman spoke up. “I’m guessing it’s a lot more than just a few guilders. Scheller stole from another band of robbers.”

“Another band of robbers?” Johann Lechner could barely keep from jumping out of his seat. “Do you mean there’s another gang of thugs roving around out there?”

Slowly and methodically, the hangman filled his pipe. “All the attacks recently-from the Hoher Peißenberg to the Landsberg region-can’t have been the work of just one gang. I believe Scheller. First let me track down the others as well; then the day after that, I’ll string up the robber chief and his men for you, if that’s what you want. If we do that, we’ll know where the loot is hidden and finally be able to bring peace again to the Priests’ Corner.”

Lechner looked at the hangman, thinking. “And if I insist on torturing them on the wheel?” he asked finally.

Kuisl lit his pipe. “Then you can look for your robbers yourself. But I doubt you’ll find them. I’m the only one who knows all the places they might be hiding.”

“Are you threatening me?” Lechner’s voice was suddenly as cold as a January morning.

Jakob Kuisl leaned back and blew little rings of smoke toward the ceiling. “I wouldn’t call it a threat; I’d call it an understanding.”

For a long time, only the sound of Lechner’s fingers drumming on the desktop was audible.

“Very well, then,” the clerk said finally. “You catch these other robbers for me, and for all I care, Scheller can be hanged instead of broken on the wheel. But first he’ll have to tell us where the loot is hidden.”

“Let the women and children go,” the hangman said softly. “Give them a whipping and banish them from the town-that should be enough.”

Lechner sighed. “Why not? After all, we’re all human beings.” Then he leaned forward. “But you’ve got to do one thing for me in return.”

“What’s that?”