hangman kept dripping some tincture from a small vial into her mouth, but Martha Stechlin had difficulty swallowing. The reddish-brownish liquid oozed over her lips and trickled to the ground.
“What is that?” Simon asked, pointing at the vial.
“It’s an extract of Saint-John’s-wort, nightshade, and several other herbs that you don’t know. It’ll calm her down, but that’s all. Damn it, they should have cleaned the head wound right away. It’s already getting inflamed. Your father is a confounded quack!”
Simon swallowed, but he couldn’t argue with that.
“Where did you gather all that knowledge? I mean, you’ve never studied…”
The hangman laughed out loud as he examined the countless bruises on the midwife’s legs.
“Studied! Nonsense! You silly physicians think you’re finding the truth at your cold-blooded universities. But there’s nothing there! Nothing but wise books written by wise men who copied from other wise men. But real life, real diseases, that’s what you’ll find out here. Learn from those, not from your books! That’ll teach you more than the entire university library at Ingolstadt!”
“But you have books in your house as well,” Simon protested.
“Yes, but what kind of books? Those books that you physicians have banned or chosen to ignore because they don’t fit in with your dusty doctrines. Scultetus, Pare, or old Dioscorides! These are truly learned men! But, no. You prefer to bleed patients, look at piss, and believe in your stinking humors. Blood, phlegm, and bile, that’s all that constitutes the human body in your eyes. If only I got to take a medical exam at one of your universities…”
He broke off, shaking his head. “But why should I get upset? I’m just supposed to heal the midwife and then kill her, and that’s that.”
At long last, Jakob Kuisl had finished his examination of the tortured woman. Finally, he tore some linen rags in strips, soaked them in the yellow ointment, and wrapped them around her legs, which looked like one large bruise. All the while he was shaking his head.
“I only hope I wasn’t too rough with her. But the worst by far is the head injury. We’ll see in the next few hours if her fever goes down or if it rises. If it does rise, then tonight will be Martha’s last night on this earth, I’m afraid.”
He rose to his feet.
“At any rate we have to tell Lechner that he won’t get his confession tonight. That buys us time.”
Jakob Kuisl stooped down to the midwife one more time to place her head on a fresh bale of straw. As he turned toward the door, Simon was still standing hesitantly at the sick woman’s side, and Kuisl impatiently motioned to him to leave.
“There’s nothing else we can do now. You may speak a prayer in church or say your rosary, if you wish. I for one will take my pipe, have a good smoke in my own backyard, and attempt to think things through. That will be of more help to Martha Stechlin.”
Without so much as looking back he left the keep.
When Simon arrived home, his father was sitting in the main room with a goblet of wine, looking quite content. He even managed a smile as his son entered. Simon noticed he was a bit drunk.
“It’s good you are back again. I’ll need your help. Dengler’s little Maria seems to have a skin disease, and Sepp Bichler-”
“You haven’t been able to help her,” Simon cut in abruptly.
Bonifaz Fronwieser looked at him in bewilderment.
“What’s that you say?”
“You haven’t been able to help her. You messed up, and as you were at your wit’s end, you called for the hangman.”
The old physician’s eyes became narrow slits.
“I didn’t call him, so help me God,” he hissed. “Lechner wanted it. If I had my way, that quack would have been reined in a long time ago! It can’t be tolerated that charlatans like that man are allowed to bring shame upon our trade. A man without university schooling. How ridiculous!”
“Quack? Charlatan?” Simon found it difficult to keep his voice from breaking. “This man has more knowledge and reason than your entire Ingolstadt crowd! If Martha Stechlin survives, it’s due to him alone and not to you bleeding her, as you did, or sniffing her urine!”
Bonifaz Fronwieser shrugged and took a sip from his goblet. “Anyhow, Lechner didn’t let me have my way. Imagine him even paying attention to that charlatan. Who’d have guessed…” Then a smile spread across his face. It was meant to appear conciliatory.
“Anyway, I got paid for it. And believe me, if the midwife croaks now, it’s best for her. She’ll have to die at any rate. This way she can avoid more torture and the stake.”
Simon raised his hand as if to deal him a blow and had difficulty restraining himself.
“You goddamned…”
Before he could continue there was a pounding at the door. Outside stood Anna Maria Kuisl. She was breathing hard, and her face was pale. She looked as if she had run the entire way from the Lech Gate quarter.
“Jakob…Jakob,” she stammered. “He needs you. You have to come at once. When I returned from the river with the children, he was sitting on the bench like a stone statue. I’ve never seen him like that. Gracious God, I hope it’s nothing serious…”
“What’s happened?” Simon cried out, grabbing for his coat and hat as he rushed out the door.
“He won’t tell me. But it’s got to do with Magdalena.”
Simon ran. He didn’t see his father shake his head and carefully close the door. Bonifaz Fronwieser sat down again and continued drinking his pint of wine. You didn’t really get the best quality for three pennies, but at least the stuff helped you forget.
Deep in thought Jakob Kuisl had walked homeward through the tanners’ quarter down by the river. It was just a few hundred yards more along the main road to his house. Shortly before, he had informed Lechner that the midwife was unable to be questioned. The court clerk had stared at him blankly and then nodded. He wasn’t accusatory, and Jakob Kuisl almost got the impression Lechner had expected as much.
At last, however, he gave the hangman a piercing glare.
“You know what comes next, Kuisl, don’t you?”
“I don’t understand, Your Excellency.”
“When the Elector’s secretary arrives, you’ll have busy days. Keep yourself ready.”
“Your Excellency, I trust that we are quite close to the solution…”
But the clerk had already turned away. He seemed to have lost all interest in the man facing him.
As the path took a turn around the last few blackberry bushes, Jakob Kuisl could see his backyard, which stretched from the lane all the way down to the pond. The meadow by the pond was heavy with pussy willows. Wolfsbane and daisies were sparkling in the damp meadows and the herbal garden, recently turned over, was steaming in the sun. For the first time this day, a smile played about the hangman’s lips.
Suddenly his features froze.
A man was sitting on the bench in front of the hangman’s house. His face was turned toward the sun, and his eyes were closed. When he heard Jakob Kuisl at the garden gate, he blinked as if waking up from a beautiful dream. He was wearing a hat with roosters’ feathers and a bloodred doublet. The hand he used for keeping the sun from his face was bright white.
The devil looked at Jakob Kuisl and smiled.
“Ah, the hangman! What a wonderful garden you have here! I’m sure your wife takes good care of it, or little Magdalena, if I’m right.”
Jakob Kuisl remained motionless at the garden gate. Casually, he picked up a rock from the wall, weighing and hiding it in his hand. One well-aimed throw…
“Ah, yes, little Magdalena,” the devil continued. “A sprightly lass, ravishingly beautiful. Just like her mother. I wonder if her nipples get hard when one whispers cruel words in her ear. I’ll have to try.”
Jakob Kuisl clenched his fist around the rock so hard that the edges cut into his flesh.
“What do you want?” he murmured.
The devil rose and walked over to the windowsill, where a jug of water was standing. Slowly he put it to his lips and drank in deep gulps. Drops ran down his beard and dripped to the ground. Only when he had emptied the
