The Hangman’s Daughter

stiffened, and his eyes followed the coin as if he were hypnotized.

“Your promise should not bind you. After all, it was not a Christian oath, was it?” he asked the child in a soothing voice.

The boy shook his head. Jakob Schreevogl carefully set him down and looked expectantly between Simon and the boy.

“Well,” continued Simon. “Who told you that Clara was well?”

“It…it was Sophie,” the boy whispered without taking his eyes off the coin. “The red-haired girl. She told me down by the raft landing, just before I came. I got an apple for bringing you the message.”

Simon brushed his hand across the boy’s head trying to calm him down. “You did very well. And did Sophie also tell you where Clara is now?”

The boy shook his head fearfully. “That’s all she told me. I swear by the Holy Mother of God!”

“And Sophie? Where is she now?” Jakob Schreevogl interrupted.

“She…she left again right away, over the bridge and into the woods. When I looked at her she threw a stone at me. Then I came here right away.”

Simon looked at Jakob Schreevogl from the side. “I believe he’s telling the truth,” he said. Schreevogl nodded.

When Simon tried to give the child his coin, the patrician intervened and reached into his own purse. He pulled out a shiny silver penny and gave it to the boy.

“This one is for you,” he said. “And another one just like it if you find out where Sophie or my Clara are. We’re not out to harm Sophie, you understand?”

The boy reached for the coin and closed his small fist around it.

“The…the other children say that Sophie is a witch and will soon be burned, together with the Stechlin woman,” he whispered.

“You need not believe everything the other children are saying.” Jakob Schreevogl gave him a little nudge. “Run along now. And remember, this is our secret, right?”

The boy nodded. Seconds later he disappeared around the corner with his treasure.

Jakob Schreevogl closed the door and looked at Simon. “She’s alive,” he whispered. “My Clara is alive! I must immediately tell my wife. Please excuse me.”

He rushed upstairs. Halfway up the stairs he stopped once more and looked down at Simon.

“I have much esteem for you, Fronwieser,” he said. “Now as always. Find the devil, and I shall reward you generously.” He smiled as he continued. “You’re welcome to look around my little private library. I think it contains a few books that may interest you.”

Then he quickly went upstairs into his wife’s bedroom.

CHAPTER 10

SATURDAY APRIL 28, A.D. 1659 NOON

For a good half minute Simon stood transfixed in the hall of the patrician’s house. Thoughts raced through his mind. Finally he came to a decision and ran out into the street, down the Bauerngasse and into the market square. He bumped into a few market women and almost upset a stall with loaves of bread before running down behind the Ballenhaus to the Lech Gate, ignoring the cries and curses behind him. In a few minutes he was on the bridge over the river. He hurried across, leaving the burned-out Stadel on his right, and ran out onto the country road that led from the raft landing to Peiting.

After a short time he reached the edge of the forest. Now, at midday, the road was almost deserted, most of the wagons having already gone down to the river in the early hours of the morning. Birds were quietly chirping and sometimes a twig snapped in the depth of the forest, but otherwise it was peaceful.

“Sophie!”

In the silence Simon’s voice sounded hollow and weak, as if the forest was about to swallow it up after only a few yards.

“Sophie, can you hear me?”

He cursed himself for this idea. Perhaps the girl might have run into the forest from here just half an hour before, but it was not likely that she was still within earshot. She could be far, far away by now. Anyway, why in the world would she want to listen to him? It was very possible she was at this moment sitting on a branch somewhere and watching him. Sophie had fled. She was suspected of engaging in witchcraft along with the midwife. As an orphan, without a good reputation or witnesses to speak for her, she was extremely likely to end up being burned at the stake along with the Stechlin woman even though she was only twelve years old. The physician had heard of cases where even much younger children had been put to the stake as witches. Why, then, should Sophie come forward now?

Simon sighed and turned on his heels.

“Stop right there!”

The voice had come from somewhere out in the depths of the forest. Simon stopped and looked back over his shoulder. A stone hit him in the side.

“Ouch! Damn it, Sophie…”

“Don’t turn round,” came Sophie’s voice again. “You needn’t see where I am.”

Simon obeyed, shrugging his shoulders. The place where the pebble had struck him was terribly painful. He had no desire to be injured by another stone.

“The boy tattled, is that right?” asked Sophie. “He told you that I sent him.”

Simon nodded. “Don’t be angry with him,” he said. “I would have guessed it anyway.”

He focused his eyes on a point somewhere in the dense undergrowth in front of him. This helped him to speak to the invisible girl.

“Where is Clara, Sophie?”

“She’s safe. I can’t tell you anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re looking for us. Clara and I are in danger, even in the town. They already got Peter and Anton. You must keep an eye on Johannes Strasser, at the innkeeper’s in Altenstadt-”

“He’s gone missing,” Simon interrupted the girl.

She was silent for a long time. Simon thought he heard her sob quietly.

“Sophie, what happened that night? You were all together, weren’t you? Peter, you, Clara, the other orphans…what happened?”

“I…I can’t tell you.” Sophie’s voice trembled. “It will all come out. We’ll be burned-all of us!”

“Sophie, I swear I will stand up for you,” he said, trying to calm her down. “Nobody’s going to get hurt. Nobody…”

He heard a branch break. The sound came not from behind, where he supposed Sophie was standing or sitting, but from the front. On the left, twenty paces in front of Simon, there was a stack of sticks.

Something was moving behind the pile.

Simon heard a thump behind him and steps hurrying away. Sophie was escaping.

Just a moment later a figure dashed out from behind the pile. The person was wearing a coat and a broad- brimmed hat. At first Simon thought it was the hangman, but then the figure drew a saber from under his coat. For one short moment the sun shone through the thick branches of the forest, and the saber glittered in the light. As the figure rushed toward him, Simon noticed something clutching the saber, something white.

It was the hand of the devil, a hand of bone.

Simon suddenly felt as if time had arrested. Every gesture and detail burned itself into his brain. His feet seemed glued to the earth, as if stuck in a swamp. Not until the devil was ten strides from him could he move again. Terrified, he turned and ran to the edge of the forest. Behind him he heard the steps of the devil, a rhythmic crunching of gravel and earth. Soon he could hear the breath of his pursuer drawing closer.

Simon dared not turn around for fear this would slow him down. He ran and ran, the metallic taste of blood in