“Our good abbot simply put the monstrance in the large chest in the anteroom and returned later that night to pick it up,” the hangman interrupted brashly. “That’s the reason I wanted to return to the holy chapel. I had a suspicion, but it was clear the thief couldn’t have carried this heavy monstrance down into the church. That would have attracted attention, so he had to hide it somewhere.” Kuisl grinned. “So much for hocus-pocus. The biggest riddles often have the simplest solutions.”
Rambeck sighed. “It was so simple that I asked myself afterward why no one noticed,” he said, shaking his head. “But all the talk about witchcraft and the devil at work made my fellow Brothers blind to the obvious. They preferred to believe in a golem.”
“But don’t you yourself believe in golems?” Simon inquired. “Just recently I saw you reading a book about them.”
“How do you know…” The abbot looked up in astonishment. For a moment Simon thought he saw a hint of uncertainty in his face; but then he simply shrugged. “I’ll admit I was upset by the gossip. After all, Virgilius’s automaton has disappeared. But a golem?” He shook his head. “An object made of dirt that functions according to the obscure laws of magic? Nonsense. I believe, like my brother, in God and the laws of mechanics.”
“Just a moment… I can’t keep up with this,” Magdalena interrupted, casting a questioning glance at her father. “Any one of the three people in possession of the key could have been the thief. Why were you so sure it was the abbot who stole the hosts?”
The hangman grinned and drew deeply on his pipe. “Yesterday when I followed the three monks into the holy chapel, Prior Jeremias told me that Brother Maurus insisted on visiting the relics room again on Monday evening,” he said smugly. “There was really no reason for that. The chapel should have been closed until the festival began-unless, of course, someone needed something that was in there.”
Simon wiped some dust and broken glass from a stool and sat down facing the abbot. The pounding rain against the bull’s-eye window had let up and now only a soft dripping sound was audible.
“Very well,” the medicus began hesitantly, turning to Rambeck. “Now we know you stole the hosts, but I still can’t make any sense of it. Why? And, above all, what does it have to do with your brother?”
“I have a suspicion,” Kuisl said. “But it would be better, Your Excellency, if you would tell us yourself.”
The abbot straightened up in his chair and looked at each of them closely with a touch of his former arrogance. “Why should I tell you that?” he blustered. “Virgilius is my brother, very well. The fact that I kept it secret is no crime, and as far as the theft of the hosts is concerned…” He paused menacingly. “Who has more credibility here-a no-account bathhouse doctor, a dishonorable hangman and his equally dishonorable daughter, or the venerable abbot of Andechs? Especially since we’ve already found the culprit. Why shouldn’t I simply call the guards at once?”
“Because then there will be no one to help you find your brother,” Jakob replied in a dry tone.
When the abbot didn’t respond, the hangman leaned forward and looked him in the face, his eyes narrowing to slits and his voice so soft Simon and Magdalena could scarcely hear him.
“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Because you hoped to find your brother, who was abducted by the real sorcerer?” Kuisl leaned back and sucked calmly on his pipe. When he starting speaking again, a broad smile spread over his face. “But believe me, if anyone can find Virgilius, it’s me. The life of your brother in exchange for the life of Nepomuk. I’d say that’s a fair exchange.”
From his hiding place, the sorcerer’s hate-filled eyes stared at the group sitting around a lantern in the watchmaker’s laboratory.
In the flickering light, the man could see how that damned hangman was speaking to Maurus Rambeck, and how the latter fell to pieces. The sorcerer hissed like a snake and rolled his eyes. He had expected more dignity from the abbot, but it appeared he was actually intimidated by this group.
The sorcerer had listened to the entire conversation. This executioner and his family were more clever than he thought at first-though not clever enough for him. Nobody was. His real problem was his helper, who couldn’t carry out even the simplest orders. Three times this hangman’s daughter had eluded his grasp, but now it was clear she didn’t represent the greatest danger, nor did the effeminate bathhouse doctor; it was the executioner himself.
The sorcerer licked his dry lips. He should have disposed of this Kuisl long ago. He was dangerous. A falling sack of lime wouldn’t be enough, and a direct confrontation seemed too risky. Damn, this whole Kuisl family lay upon him like a curse.
Suddenly he began to grin. The idea was so good he had to be careful he didn’t start to chuckle out loud: there was indeed another way to get rid of all his problems, and it was a shame he hadn’t thought of it earlier. He’d have to give instructions at once for his plan to be carried out.
Until then, all he could do was wait.
As invisible as a shadow, the sorcerer continued to eavesdrop on the conversation in the watchmaker’s house.
Maurus Rambeck sat as still as stone for a long while as rain trickled down the bull’s-eye window in thin rivulets. The church bell tolled midnight, and not until the last sounds had died away did he turn to Jakob again. “Do you think you can find my brother?” he asked skeptically. “You, a dishonorable hangman from Schongau?”
“He may be dishonorable, but he’s also the smartest and strongest damned man in the entire Priests’ Corner,” Magdalena retorted. “If you only knew what my father has accomplished in his life, you wouldn’t talk like such a jackass.”
The abbot raised his hands apologetically and smiled faintly. “Pardon me, young woman; it wasn’t my intent to offend your father.” He shrugged in resignation. “What can I do? It doesn’t look as though I can exactly choose who’s going to help me, and in any case, it seems Brother Jeremias will be taking my position soon.”
“If we are to help you, you must tell us more,” said Simon, leaning forward in his rickety chair. “Tell us what happened to your brother.”
“As your father-in-law already said, he was abducted.” Rambeck buried his face in his hands and sobbed softly before continuing. “Some madman has taken possession of him and is threatening to kill him if I don’t hand over the hosts.”
“In other words, you stole the hosts only to save your brother?” Magdalena asked sympathetically.
The abbot nodded and rubbed his tired, bloodshot eyes. “This… this sorcerer, or whatever you want to call him… knew that only I or one of the other two keyholders would be able to enter the holy chapel, so he kidnapped my brother and sent me a message, along with the one I have here.”
Rambeck reached under his robe, pulling out and carefully unwrapping a little package. When Simon saw what it was, he cringed. In the soiled cloth lay a blackened finger, a few tendons still clinging to it. It bore an engraved silver ring, which Simon noticed now was identical to the one worn by the abbot.
“This ring bears our family coat of arms,” the abbot whispered. “The Rambecks are an old family, and when we are gone, the family will die out.” He looked at Simon in despair. “Do you understand? This madman will stop at nothing. First he killed the apothecary’s assistant because he apparently knew too much; then young Vitalis when he came to the defense of his master. I had to give him the hosts.”
“How could the sorcerer be certain they were the real hosts?” Simon asked incredulously. “You could have given him anything, and-”
“That’s the reason he demanded the monstrance, too; don’t you understand, you imbecile?” Kuisl snorted, looking up angrily at the ceiling where the crocodile was still swinging in the breeze. “His Excellency had to bring the sorcerer the monstrance as proof.”