Sighing, Benedikta ran after him.
Forty feet above, the stranger with the crossbow watched them leave. He raised his hands to his mouth and mimicked the caw of a jaybird.
Court Clerk Johann Lechner sat in his office, chewing on his quill pen and double-checking the city’s ledgers. The result was disastrous. The constant attacks in recent days had brought traffic almost to a standstill. All commercial goods transported along the major highways from Augsburg over the Brenner Pass and the Fern Pass had to be stored temporarily in Schongau. While the city collected a nice tax on every single bale, the Ballenhaus, the storage warehouse, and the Zimmerstadel down on the Lech were practically empty now. And the recent snowstorm had delivered the final blow. Schongau was bleeding to death, and the clerk had no idea where to get the money to pay the city’s long-overdue bills.
Johann Lechner sighed. The council had raked him over the coals that morning. The patricians respected him, but only as long as he was looking out for their interests, and Lechner had to wonder-and not for the first time-why he actually did so. The daily squabbles with these fat, pompous gas bags-who had nothing to think about but their next glass of wine, or their next shipment of salt or wool, or about how strenuous the trips to Munich and Augsburg were by coach-were the cause of all the miserable, unending paperwork. The city was a clock that had to be wound every day, and if it weren’t for him, Lechner was sure Schongau would wither away and become just another small provincial town.
That made it all the more important for him to put his foot down, to do something to make it clear that nobody could just come along and spit in the town’s face, and certainly not a band of filthy, ragged highwaymen and cutthroats.
There was a knock on the door. Lechner drew a line under the last entry and straightened his cap before calling out for his caller to enter.
Jakob Kuisl had to stoop to avoid bumping his head on the low doorway. His huge form completely filled the opening.
“You called for me, Your Excellency?”
“Ah, Kuisl!” Johann Lechner said, motioning for him to take a seat. “How strange…I was just thinking of you. Well, how was the excursion with Burgomaster Semer?”
“You know…?”
“Of course I know. We talked about it in the council meeting. The other gentlemen are not exactly pleased that you are giving Semer special treatment. Now his business is booming, and the rest are sitting around twiddling their fingers. Or were you attacked?”
Kuisl shook his head. “No, there were no crooks or gangsters anywhere. But we also didn’t tell anyone which route we were going to take.”
The clerk frowned. “Do you really think someone on the city council is listening in on the others and sending thugs out to get them?” Johann Lechner smiled, toying with the goose quill. “Tell me frankly, who do you suspect? That ambitious fellow Schreevogl or one of the four burgomasters-or perhaps, me? Are you going to put me on the rack and make me confess?”
Kuisl didn’t react to the clerk’s scornful tone. “The city council is the place where town leaders discuss business,” he replied simply. “If anyone wants to listen, that’s the best place to do it. All the patricians are equally suspect.”
Amused, the clerk shook his finger at the hangman. “The aldermen a group of murderers? Kuisl, Kuisl…It would be best to keep that idea to yourself. Executioners have been strung up on their own gallows for voicing suspicions far less serious than that. Besides, you’re forgetting the merchant from Augsburg-this Weyer fellow. He wasn’t at the council meeting, but he’s dead and buried now just the same.”
Jakob Kuisl shrugged. “We’ll see how it all fits together. Semer, in any case, didn’t talk to anyone and arrived safe and sound in Landsberg.”
“I hear you asked the burgomaster a favor,” Lechner said, abruptly changing the subject. “You wanted him to make some inquiries for you.” The clerk looked up at the ceiling, feigning indignation. “The burgomaster is now the hangman’s messenger boy, o tempora, o mores! What’s the world coming to? Can you let me know what’s so important you absolutely must know it, Kuisl?”
“No.”
The clerk paused, stunned. “I beg your pardon?”
Kuisl shrugged. “That’s my business. I’ll let you know when I have news.”
Lechner was silent for a moment; then he nodded. “As you will.” He pushed the papers in front of him to one side and pulled a large notebook from a bookshelf alongside the desk. “Let’s get to the reason I asked you to come.” He leafed through the book as he continued. “Scheller and his gang had their trial today, and-”
“They had what?” Kuisl sat bolt upright in his chair.
“Don’t interrupt me,” Lechner said, giving the hangman a severe look. “As I said, we put the gang on trial this morning in the Ballenhaus. It lasted just a quarter hour. Your presence wasn’t necessary.”
“And Burgomaster Semer?”
“He was informed and agreed to the procedure. The execution is set for this coming Saturday; that’s in three days.” He cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, I was not successful in arranging the type of execution you requested. You’ll have to torture Scheller on the wheel.”
Kuisl could no longer stay seated. “But you gave me your word!” He jumped up so violently that his chair tipped backward and crashed to the floor. “I’m indebted to Scheller!”
The clerk shook his head as if he were speaking with a child. “Please, Kuisl! Indebted…to the head of a band of robbers?” He pointed at the chair on the ground. “Now please pick it up. We still have some things to discuss.”
Jakob Kuisl took a deep breath and stood there, his arms crossed.
“Believe me,” Lechner continued, “it’s the best thing for the city. We have to set an example. Every gang of robbers from here to Landsberg will hear Scheller scream. It will be a lesson to them. Besides”-he tapped his goose-quill pen on the document in front of him-“the execution will bring money back into the city coffers. We’ll have a big celebration with dancing, music, mulled wine, and roasted chestnuts. People need a change of pace after these cold, anxious days.” He leafed through the pages of the book. “You see, there are some things that have to be done. First, the execution site has to be cleaned. Also, I’ve checked and one of the beams is rotten. And down below, in the square, we’ll need some gallows-at least three of them. And seats with canopies for the patricians so the fine gentlemen don’t freeze their behinds off in the cold. I’m afraid the hunt for the other gangs of robbers will have to wait a bit.”
The hangman, who had listened stoically to Lechner’s words, stirred again. “And what about the children and the women?” he asked.
The clerk nodded. “They’ll go free, as promised. We’ll hang only the men and older boys. Scheller will be tortured on the wheel. Believe me, there were people on the council who wanted to hang the women and children, too.” He smiled at Kuisl. “You see, I’m trying to meet you halfway. Now get started. By Saturday noon everything has to be ready.”
With a nod, Lechner dismissed the hangman, who headed for the exit as if in a trance. After he closed the door behind him, the clerk groaned. He would never understand this pigheaded Kuisl! Torture on the wheel paid a full thirty guilders, yet Kuisl reacted as if he were being asked to string up his own daughter. Lechner watched out the window as the large man walked away. A strange man, this hangman, he thought. Strong, bright, but a little too sentimental for his job.