Bartholomäus did not seem to notice his brother’s amazement as he stood alongside him, pointing to the building.
“It stands right between the two parts of town,” the younger brother explained. “As Bamberg continued to grow, the citizens on this side of the river built the new city over there, and ever since then, they’ve been quarreling with the bishop.” He spat into the foul-smelling water below. “With the city hall, they’re telling the bishop he can kiss their ass. And they get bolder every year.”
He continued toward the building, and Jakob followed over a narrow path along the shore to the defiant little building clinging to the south side of the city hall, evidently the office of the city guards.
Bartholomäus turned to speak to his brother. “Captain Martin Lebrecht is not a bad fellow,” he said. “He often asks for my advice when his men have to extricate the corpse of a starved beggar, or some other poor creature, from the mud and garbage of the city moat.” He frowned. “But I can’t figure out why he wants to see us both at the same time. We told the guard everything last night.”
Two sleepy guards were leaning on their halberds in front of the guardhouse. When they saw Bartholomäus, their faces darkened.
“Isn’t it enough that they brought a bloody corpse to the guardhouse and sent us off on a wild-goose chase looking for the devil? Now the hangman is coming to pay us a visit,” said the older one, making the sign of the cross. “So much disaster has rained down on us since yesterday that I can’t even pray anymore.” There were dark rings under the watchman’s eyes; it looked as if he’d had a long, sleepless night.
“What devil?” Bartholomäus asked. “And who are you looking for?”
The guard waved him off. “None of your business, hangman. Get out of here.”
“It certainly is our business,” Bartholomäus replied curtly. “The captain sent for me and my brother. So just let us through before he gets impatient.”
“Your brother?” The second guard, a short, mousy, nervous-looking fellow, regarded Jakob, wide-eyed. “Do you mean we now have two hangmen in the city?”
“It looks like you need them,” Jakob jested, “with all the filth and vermin here.”
Without another word, the two brothers pushed their way past the guards and entered the chief’s office. An older, powerfully built officer was having a conversation with a gray-haired, potbellied man. They were standing next to a table, looking at a long bundle wrapped in a sheet. Next to it was a smaller bundle, also wrapped in a cloth. Jakob knew at once what was underneath the sheets; he was all too familiar with the odor in the air.
The stench of decay.
When the chief noticed the new arrivals, he raised his head, and a thin smile spread over his lips. Just like the guards outside, he looked pale and weary, and black stubble covered his angular face. Jakob assumed the man in front of him was Martin Lebrecht, the captain of the Bamberg city guards.
“Ah, Master Bartholomäus,” the captain exclaimed with relief. “Please excuse me for not having any time for you earlier, but there were. . well. . some things that had to be taken care of.” He hesitated briefly, then pointed with a sigh to the portly gentleman on his right, dressed in the simple garb of a clerk and nervously rubbing a roll of paper in front of him with calloused fingers. “I’m sure I don’t need to introduce you to Master Hieronymus Hauser.”
Bartholomäus nodded. “I’m glad to see you, esteemed Father-in-Law. Katharina, by the way, is well and rearranges the furniture in my house every day. Soon I won’t be able to find my way around in my own room.”
The fat man smiled. “You can forget about calling me father-in-law until after the wedding,” he replied, shaking his finger playfully at Bartholomäus. “And don’t tell me I never warned you about Katharina’s compulsion for cleaning.”
Jakob was amazed to see the degree of collegiality and respect the men showed for each other. Here, the hangman appeared to be one of the local authorities-unlike in Schongau, where he had to live outside the city walls and was avoided by everyone. But then Jakob suddenly thought about the whispering children over on the bridge.
It will always be so; some things never change.
“And I assume this is your brother?” asked Hieronymus Hauser, turning to Jakob with a smile and extending his ink-stained fingers. Jakob shook hands, embarrassed; now he regretted not having washed off in the river earlier. “Welcome to the family,” said the clerk. “We were surprised you came. It was just last week that I learned Bartholomäus even had a brother.”
“We Kuisls don’t talk very much,” Jakob explained hesitantly.
Hieronymus laughed. “Indeed! But my daughter compensates for that three times over. It was one of her fondest wishes to have all the members of the Kuisl clan sit down sometime at a table.” With a smile, he added, “Even though it means, or so I’ve heard, bringing together two obstinate executioners who are always quarreling with one another.”
Martin Lebrecht, who had been standing awkwardly next to them, interrupted: “May I ask you to put off the family affairs until later? We’re here to discuss a very important matter.” He looked intently at the two hangmen. “First, you must assure me that everything we discuss here today is confidential. We will keep minutes and then bury them in a mountain of documentation. Have I made myself clear?”
Bartholomäus and Jakob nodded, and the captain took a deep breath.
“Then take another look at the corpse you found, and tell me exactly what happened yesterday.”
He pulled the sheet away from the table. Hieronymus gasped softly while the two hangmen looked down with interest at the naked corpse. They had seen too many corpses and too much sorrow in their lives, but just the same, anger started welling up in Jakob.
She’s just a little older than my Barbara. .
The red-haired girl in front of them was as pale as parchment. Something had ripped open her throat, so that her neck was just a gaping wound. Even more gruesome to look at, however, was the thin cut Jakob had not noticed the night before beneath her bloody dress; it extended from her breastbone to her navel. It looked just like the incisions the Schongau hangman sometimes made himself on hanged criminals in order to study the body’s internal organs. Clotted blood had formed along the incision, where a fat blowfly, buzzing loudly, alighted and started crawling down toward her navel. The girl looked like a doll that had been torn to pieces and clumsily stitched back together again.
“Who would do something like that?” asked a horrified Hieronymus Hauser after a while. His pasty face had suddenly turned gray, and he took a deep gulp.
“Well, that’s the reason I wanted to hear more about what happened last night,” Martin Lebrecht replied. “The girl was evidently a whore. An unhappy client probably slit her throat, but what about this here?” He shook his head in disgust and turned to Bartholomäus. “When you brought me the corpse last night, I discovered the incision at once and decided not to have the girl taken to potter’s field, as I usually would. That would only have started rumors, and we have enough of those in the city already.” He stopped to think. “In addition, look what the rag collector Answin brought me early this morning. He fished it out of the Regnitz just a few hours ago.” Lebrecht pulled aside the second, smaller sheet, revealing the pale leg of a woman. It seemed to have been in the water for some time, as rats and fish had already been nibbling on it.
“This is the third body part we’ve found this month,” the captain continued.
“The fourth,” Jakob interrupted.
Martin Lebrecht looked at him, obviously confused. “What are you saying?”
“I said, the fourth. Yesterday evening, just before we arrived in Bamberg, we came upon a right arm in the river that had been washed ashore.” In a few words, Jakob Kuisl told the captain about their discovery in the Bamberg Forest. “Evidently it belonged to a man about sixty years old who did a lot of writing. . and had gout,” he said finally. “The fingers were all gnarled.”