But that’s just the way it was with Mother and Father, it occurred to her, and she smiled mischievously.
“What are you thinking about?” Katharina asked, but at that moment the steps began to creak, and Simon and a sleepy-looking Barbara entered the room. Katharina greeted the new arrivals just as warmly as she had Magdalena, but then stopped when she smelled something burning.
“Oh, God, the porridge!” she cried out, running out into the hallway. “I shouldn’t have left the boy alone at the stove.”
Simon sat down at the table next to Magdalena, took a piece of bread, and dunked it in the wine.
“It seems she’s not an old battle-ax, as you suspected,” he said with a smile between bites, and gestured with his head toward Katharina.
Magdalena shook her head. “No, certainly not. Clearly Peter and Paul like their new aunt, too. At least, they haven’t played any tricks on her yet, and it’s already eight in the morning. That’s pretty unusual.” She grinned, but then her expression grew serious. “On the other hand, Father seems to have a problem.”
She quickly told Simon and Barbara what had happened to Jakob and Bartholomäus the night before.
Simon groaned and passed his hand through his hair. “It’s enough to drive you crazy. No sooner has your father come to town than the first cadaver shows up.”
“Oh, come now. There was one before we even set foot in town. True, they are attracted to him like bees to honey-but perhaps that’s the way it is for hangmen.”
Simon took another piece of the fresh, delicious-smelling bread that Katharina had no doubt baked earlier that morning. “Well, at least this time I assume he’s not suspected of being the perpetrator, like he was back in Regensburg,” he said with a full mouth. “That alone is progress.”
Magdalena remembered with horror her time in Regensburg, six years ago, when her father had been suspected of murder and was tortured, and could only be saved at the last moment. Shortly after that, she and Simon had married.
“I, for one, don’t want to sit around here all day waiting for Father and Uncle Bartholomäus,” said Barbara, who until then had been sitting listlessly, playing with her hair. “I want to see something of the city.” She turned to Magdalena and said in a pleading tone, “How about if we go down to the marketplace together?” Her eyes sparkled expectantly. “Please! I’ve never been to such a large city, and now in the light of day it doesn’t look as scary as it did last night.”
Magdalena gave her a conspiratorial wink. “I don’t see any reason not to. Unless. .” With a questioning look she turned around to Katharina, who was just entering the room hand in hand with Paul, who had porridge smeared all over him. “Unless my future aunt needs me today to help with preparations for the wedding.”
Katharina waved her off with a laugh. “If you can do a little shopping for me, feel free to leave the boys here and go sightseeing in the city. I hear that my future brother-in-law needs some tobacco-which stinks at least as bad as burned porridge.” She opened a window to let the smell out. “Well, it looks like we’ll have to make a second breakfast.”
Simon quickly stood up and carefully looked through some books lying on the table next to Peter.
“Many thanks for the bread and wine, Katharina. If you don’t mind, I’ll take this chance to visit my old friend Samuel.” Magdalena frowned, but he looked to her with pleading eyes. “You know that I also came to Bamberg to see him. He’s now a respected physician-apparently he even treats the bishop himself. I hope I may be allowed to have a look at some books that have just been printed. There are a few interesting new theories about the circulation of blood. .”
“Just stop.” Magdalena rolled her eyes with annoyance. “It would be nice if your interest in books brought in some money from time to time. Other bathhouse owners do bloodlettings without giving much thought to circulation.”
“Other bathhouse owners are quacks,” Simon replied bitterly.
“Now just stop fighting,” Katharina interrupted. “Enjoy the day, each of you in your own way. I don’t want to see any sad faces around me so soon before my wedding.” She led the two boys over into the pantry. “And you two can help me now to stir a new pot of porridge. Let’s see if we can find some more honey.”
Magdalena smiled at her younger sister. “It looks like this could turn out to be a nice day.” She stood up and buttoned her bodice. “Well, then, come along before there’s nothing left to buy but mushy cabbage leaves.”
Jakob Kuisl’s stomach growled so loudly he thought for a moment some monster had crept up behind him. It was late in the afternoon and several hours since he’d had his last skimpy meal. He stopped for a moment, wiped the sweat from his brow, and now, cursing under his breath, went back to helping his brother pull the filthy, foul-smelling cart through one more narrow lane along the city moat.
He wanted more than anything else just to sit back and smoke his pipe, but they’d been working since early morning and hadn’t returned to the hangman’s house, where his future sister-in-law would, he hoped, be awaiting him with the promised tobacco.
It had been a long night. They’d followed their orders and taken the corpse of the young prostitute to the office of the city guards, but the captain on duty, by the name of Martin Lebrecht, was not available. They’d first tried to see him earlier that morning, to inform him of what had happened in the night, but he was suddenly busy with other things. Jakob had the vague feeling that the guards, and especially their captain, had something to hide. Finally he’d left with Bartholomäus and Georg to take the dead horse out of town. Georg had stayed in the Bamberg Forest to flay and butcher the carcass, while Jakob and Bartholomäus brought the empty cart to city hall, where the two executioners would finally be cross-examined as witnesses.
After a few more bends and dead ends, Bartholomäus reached a shed near the river and pushed the cart in between two rotted boats stacked inside. He wiped his hands on his apron and headed for the nearby stone bridge that led straight to the city hall.
“The shed belongs to Answin, the rag collector, who delivers his goods to the paper mill farther down the river,” Bartholomäus explained. “We’re good friends. The cart can stay there for a while,” he said with a grin. “The noble gentlemen aren’t so happy to see us and our filthy work, and only wish we could make ourselves invisible.” He cast a critical eye at Jakob. “You should wash off a bit in the river before we go to the city hall. It’s quite possible my future father-in-law will be there. As one of the assistant clerks, he sometimes helps out in the guardhouse. It won’t put our family in a very good light if he sees you like this.”
“That’s all I need-my little brother telling me when to take a bath,” Jakob growled, and he kept stomping forward. “Nobody asked me to give them a report, and if the gentlemen want to question me, then they’ll just have to smell me as well.”
Some worn steps led up to the bridge, which was crowded with people at this hour. Patricians with bulging purses rushed by on their way to the financial sector by the cathedral; two Benedictine monks walked slowly by in silent prayer on their way to their monastery on the Michelsberg; some children climbed around on the stone parapet. When the boys and girls saw the Bamberg executioner, they began whispering nervously to one another.
Paying no attention to the others around him, Jakob suddenly stopped and stared up at the huge structure before them. He couldn’t help but wonder what builder would ever have had the crazy idea to build something in the middle of the river. The Bamberg city hall stood on a tiny island and hung out over the river on all sides like an overgrown mushroom. The wide stone bridge connected it to both the north and south shores, and upstream there was an additional bridge. The Regnitz rushed past the point of the island, where a small building huddled up against the main structure. It looked almost as if the little building could break off at any moment and plunge into the river.