The Hangman’s Daughter

jug did he set it down, wiping his mouth with his hand.

“What do I want? The question is rather, what do you want? Do you want to see your daughter again, and in one piece? Or perhaps rather in two halves, like a carcass, after I’ve cut off her chattering lips?”

Jakob Kuisl raised his hand and hurled the rock directly at the devil’s forehead. In a movement almost too quick to be seen, the devil ducked to the side, and the rock hit the door without doing him any harm.

For a brief moment the devil appeared startled. Then he smiled again.

“You’re fast, hangman. I like that. And you’re good at killing. Just like myself.”

Suddenly his face contorted into a hideous grimace. For a moment Jakob Kuisl thought the man in front of him was going stark mad. But then the devil got a hold of himself again. His face became blank.

Kuisl took a long look at him. He…knew that man. He just didn’t remember from where he knew him. He racked his brain, searching it for that face. Where had he seen the man before? In the war? On a battlefield?

The sound of the breaking ceramic jug startled him from his thoughts. The devil had casually thrown it behind himself.

“Enough small talk,” he whispered. “This is my offer. You show me where the treasure is, and I return your daughter. If not…” He slowly licked his lips.

Jakob Kuisl shook his head. “I don’t know where the treasure is.”

“Then find out,” the devil hissed. “You’re usually so smart. Think of something. We dug up the entire building site and didn’t find anything. But the treasure has to be there.”

Jakob Kuisl’s mouth was dry. He tried to remain calm. He had to stall the devil. If only he could get closer…

“Don’t even think of it, hangman,” the devil whispered. “My friends are taking good care of the little hangman’s daughter. If I’m not back within the next half hour, they’re going to do to her precisely what I told them to do. There are two of them, and they will have great fun.”

Jakob Kuisl raised his hands to calm him.

“What about the bailiffs?” he asked, trying to buy time. His throat was hoarse. “There are sentries at the building site both day and night.”

“That’s your problem.” The devil turned to go. “Same time tomorrow I’ll be back. By then you have the treasure or else…”

He shrugged, almost apologetically. Then he ambled off toward the pond.

“What about your patron?” the hangman shouted after him. “Who is behind all this?”

The devil turned around one more time. “You really want to know? There’s enough trouble in your town as it is, don’t you think? Maybe I’ll tell you once you hand me the treasure. Maybe the man will be dead by then, however.”

He strode off across the damp green meadows, leaped over a wall, and soon vanished in the thick forest by the river.

Jakob Kuisl fell onto the bench and stared into space. It took him some time to notice the blood that was dripping from his hand. He had clenched the rock so hard that its edges had dug into his flesh like knives.

Johann Lechner arranged the papers on his desk on the upper floor of the Ballenhaus. He was preparing for the upcoming meeting of the council, which he assumed was to be the last for quite a while. The clerk wasn’t going to kid himself. The upcoming arrival of His Excellency, Count Sandizell, the Elector’s secretary, would spell the end of Johann Lechner’s influence. He was merely acting as a proxy here. Count Sandizell would start all over and certainly not content himself with one single witch. There was unrest in the streets already. Lechner had been told by a number of people that they would take sacred oaths that the Stechlin woman had jinxed their calves, brought hailstorms down upon their crops, and made their wives barren. Only this morning, Agnes from Steingaden had grabbed him by the sleeve in the street and whispered in his ear, her breath reeking of wine, that her neighbor Maria Kohlhaas was also a witch. She herself had seen her fly across the sky on a broomstick the night before. Johann Lechner sighed. If worse came to worse, the hangman would indeed have busy days.

The first aldermen were arriving in the well-heated council chamber. Richly dressed in their robes and fur caps they took their assigned seats. Karl Semer gave Lechner an inquisitive glance. He might have been the town’s presiding burgomaster, but in official business he fully relied on the clerk. This time, however, it seemed that Lechner had failed. Semer pulled him by the sleeve.

“Any news of the Stechlin woman?” he asked. “Has she finally confessed?”

“Just a moment.” Johann Lechner pretended he was signing an important document. The clerk hated these stuffed moneybags, these puppets, who only held their office by virtue of their birth. Lechner’s father had been a court clerk as well and so had his great uncle, but no court clerk before him had ever been that powerful. The post of the district judge had long been vacant, and the Elector’s secretary came to the town only occasionally. Johann Lechner was smart enough to let the patricians keep the illusion that it was they who ruled the town. Who really ruled was he, the clerk. Now, however, his power seemed to be wavering, and the aldermen sensed it.

Johann Lechner continued to arrange his papers. Then he looked up. The patricians looked at him expectantly. To his left and right were the seats of the four burgomasters and the superintendent of the almshouse, and farther on were those of the other members of the inner and outer council.

“Let me get right to the heart of the matter,” Lechner began. “I have called this council meeting because our town is in a state of emergency. Unfortunately we have not so far been able to make the witch Martha Stechlin talk. Only this morning the witch fell back into a swoon. Georg Riegg hit her on the head with a rock and-”

“How is that possible?” old Augustin interrupted, turning toward Lechner, his blind eyes glistening. “Riegg was in jail himself on account of the fire at the Stadel. How can he throw a rock at the Stechlin woman?”

Johann Lechner sighed. “Well, it happened, so let’s leave it at that. Anyway, she hasn’t regained consciousness yet. It’s possible the devil will take her before she can confess her crimes to us.”

“Why can’t we just tell the people that she’s confessed?” burgomaster Semer murmured, mopping his sweaty pate with a silk kerchief. “She’s dying, and so we burn her for the welfare of our town.”

“Your honor,” Johann Lechner hissed. “That would be a lie before God and His Serene Highness, the Elector himself. We have witnesses present at every interrogation. Shall they all swear false oaths?”

“No, no, not at all. I was only thinking…as I said, for the benefit of Schongau…” The first burgomaster’s voice grew fainter and finally trailed off.

“When can we expect the Elector’s secretary to arrive?” old Augustin queried.

“I have sent messengers,” Lechner said. “The way things look, His Excellency Count Sandizell will give us the pleasure of his presence as early as tomorrow morning.”

A groan passed through the council chamber. The patricians knew what was in store for them. The Elector’s secretary complete with his entourage would settle in the town for many days, if not weeks. It would cost the town a fortune! Not to mention the endless interrogations of suspicious burghers concerning witchcraft, and until the true perpetrators had been found, anyone here could really be in league with the devil. Even the aldermen and their wives…During the last great witch hunt, a number of respected burghers’ wives had been among the victims. The devil drew no distinction between a servant girl and a landlady or a midwife and a burgomaster’s daughter.

“What about that Augsburg wagon driver we arrested on account of the fire at the Stadel?” the second burgomaster Johann Puchner asked, nervously drumming his fingers on the table. “Is he involved in the matter at all?”

Johann Lechner shook his head.

“I interrogated him myself. He’s innocent. Therefore I released him this morning after giving him a severe warning. At least the Augsburgers won’t give us trouble anytime soon. They got what was coming to them. But the Augsburg wagon driver did see that soldiers were fooling around at the Stadel…”

“Soldiers? What kind of soldiers?” old Augustin asked. “This story is getting more confusing by the minute. Please explain yourself, Lechner.”

Johann Lechner briefly contemplated telling the aldermen about his discussion with the hangman down by the building site. Then he decided against it. Matters were complicated enough. He shrugged.

“Well, it seems as though a gang of marauding rogues have set fire to our storage shed. The same rogues also destroyed the building site for the leper house.”

“And now they’re roaming around killing little children and painting a witches’ mark on their shoulders,” old Augustin interrupted, impatiently rapping his stick on the expensive cherrywood floor. “Is this what you’re trying to