Except what was the most obvious, and at the same time the most improbable. .
“What odor? I can’t smell anything-but you always had a better nose for these things.” Bartholomäus shook his head. “In any case, she’s dead. We’ll have to alert the guards.” He stumbled over one of the splintered staves. “Damn it, they’ll probably make us take the girl to the potter’s field outside the city in my cart. We’ll have to forget about the horse carcass,” he added, hobbling away. “So let’s get over to the guardhouse near city hall as soon as we can and let them know. The sooner we can get this behind us, the better.”
Jakob took a close look at his brother. He was puzzled about the rush. It seemed to him that for some reason Bartholomäus wanted to put this matter to rest as quickly as possible. Did he fear the criticism of the guards? Once again Jakob looked down the staircase, where the poor woman was lying in her own blood. Then, with a grim expression, he followed the light of his brother’s lantern.
It looked like they’d be transporting not a horse cadaver but the corpse of a young girl through the city. It couldn’t be said that the auspices for his brother’s wedding were favorable.
3
THE HOUSE OF THE BAMBERG HANGMAN, MORNING, OCTOBER 27, 1668 AD
When Magdalena awakened the next morning, the sun was already shining brightly, warming her room on the second floor. Someone had opened the shutters wide, emptied the chamber pots, and strewn fresh herbs and reeds on the floor.
How long did I sleep? she wondered as she yawned and opened her eyes.
She turned to Simon, whose snoring almost drowned out the sparrows chirping outside the window. Barbara was sleeping as well. The bed the two boys had slept in, however, was empty. Magdalena began to worry, but at that moment she heard happy laughter coming from downstairs. She also heard a soft, warm woman’s voice among them, plus the sound of clattering pots and an oven door squeaking as it was opened and closed. She rose to her feet carefully in order not to awaken her husband and her sister, washed her face quickly in the washbowl in the corner, straightened her tousled black hair, and then went downstairs to the living room.
“Mama, Mama!” Peter shouted, running toward her with outstretched arms. “Aunt Katharina is making us some porridge with lots and lots of honey, just as Grandma used to do.”
“Aunt Katharina?” Magdalena asked, puzzled. “Where. .”
Only then did she see a woman standing out in the hallway by the stove, stirring a pot. She was sturdily built, heavy, and seemed a bit larger than life. She appeared to be wearing some woolen petticoats beneath her skirt and jacket, so that sweat ran down her slightly pasty, red face in streams.
The heavyset woman handed the stirring spoon to Paul, standing beside her in anticipation, and playfully shook her finger at him.
“Keep stirring,” she cautioned the boy, “or the porridge will stick to the bottom and the pigs will enjoy a second breakfast.”
Her hands had become sticky from the constant stirring, so she wiped them off on her apron and turned to Magdalena with a smile. She beamed with a warmth that made Magdalena like her immediately.
“You must be Jakob’s eldest daughter, Magdalena,” she began cheerily. “What a great pleasure that you have made the long trip to our wedding. I especially wanted you to come so we could all get acquainted. I must admit that Bartl scolded and grumbled at first,” she added with a smile. “He wanted to celebrate just with me and save all the money, but finally the stubborn old guy gave in. I told him I wouldn’t tolerate any discord within my future family, and a wedding celebration like this was a good chance to bury any disagreements, even though I still don’t know exactly what happened between the two old grumps.”
She tipped her head to one side and looked closely at Magdalena. “Well, I must say that you don’t take after the Kuisls. I had not expected such a beautiful woman.”
Magdalena laughed. “Then just wait until you meet my younger sister, Barbara. When the young fellows here in Bamberg see her, their eyes will pop out. Fortunately she inherited neither the nose nor the build of our father.” She grinned. “Only his feisty temper.”
“Oh. . if she’s anything like your uncle, this will be an exciting week.” The chubby woman gave Magdalena a hearty kiss on both cheeks. “I’m Katharina, as you no doubt already know. Make yourself at home here. I hope I didn’t wake you up while I was airing out and cleaning up the rooms. It’s already after eight.” She flashed a big smile. “This house has been in need of a woman’s touch for some time-it urgently needs someone to get things in order.”
Magdalena sighed and rolled her eyes. “You’re telling me? Ever since my mother died, Father’s place is like a pigsty. Men should really not be alone for too long.” She looked around. “Where is Father, anyway?”
“He and Bartholomäus had to pay a visit early this morning to the town manager in city hall. It seems some poor woman was killed last night in a dark alleyway, and Bartholomäus and your father were witnesses. Georg is here, too,” she said, gesturing toward the living room. “But let’s not begin the day with such dark news. Drink this-it will get you moving again. It’s an old recipe of my grandmother’s, with crushed clove and a little pepper.” Katharina gave Magdalena a cup of steaming-hot mulled wine diluted with water. With an approving look, she pointed at little Peter sitting at the other end of the table, leafing through a book on anatomy. “Smart lad you’ve got there. Went straight to Bartl’s study, took out a big book, and has already told me some things about bloodletting and checking the urine.” She laughed. “Just like a little medicus. He must get that from his father.”
Magdalena nodded and took a gulp of the hot mulled wine. It tasted wonderful, both sharp and sweet, and not too strong. But she couldn’t help thinking of her father, evidently in trouble again.
Trying to change the subject, she asked, “When will the wedding take place?”
“This Sunday, in just five days. Just imagine, even though your uncle is the executioner here in Bamberg, the city gave him permission to use the wedding house-that’s the addition to the large tavern over in the harbor. They’ll give us the little room there. Nearly a hundred guests are invited.” Katharina smiled. “I assume my father made use of his influence with the city councilors. As you may know, he’s one of the city clerks.”
Magdalena nodded. It was, in fact, unusual that a hangman was allowed to celebrate his wedding just like any local shoemaker or tailor. In many parts of Germany, executioners were shunned; in the streets, people went out of their way to avoid them, believing that a hangman could bring misfortune with a single glance. Magdalena couldn’t help remembering what her brother Georg had said to her the previous evening.
You’d like it here, Sister.
Secretly she watched Katharina, who was now humming as she dashed through the room, sweeping cobwebs from the windows. Bartholomäus’s fiancée was in her midthirties, and it was a wonder she was still unmarried. Though Katharina wasn’t especially beautiful, and was clearly too fat, Magdalena could appreciate what her uncle saw in the woman. She was a good catch, strong and healthy, and her friendliness was genuine and contagious. Magdalena was surprised that such a nice person could tolerate a grouch like Bartholomäus.