“I’ll push him down to hell. Once and for all.”
Then he disappeared in the shaft.
Magdalena was lying on the ground, unable to move. She was still blindfolded, and the gag in her mouth barely allowed her to breathe. Her nose detected a faint smell of decaying flesh. Something was squeaking at regular intervals. She knew it was the chain that the hanged man was suspended from. Her father had usually seen to it that these chains were always well oiled, but after several months’ exposure to wind, snow, and rain, even the best-oiled chain would eventually rust.
Georg Brandner, on whose remains the ravens were feeding up there, had been one of the many robber chiefs in the area. Toward the end of January, he and his gang had finally fallen into the trap set up for them by the bailiffs of the Elector’s secretary. The robbers and their whole extended family, women and children, had dug themselves into a cave in the Ammer Valley. After a three-day siege they finally surrendered. They’d negotiated with the bailiffs safe conduct for their families, and they’d given up without resistance. The young robbers, children all of them, had their right hands chopped off and were banished from the country. The four main perpetrators were hanged on the gallows hill of Schongau. There wasn’t much of an audience there. It was too cold for that. The snow was knee-deep. Therefore there was some dignity in the execution. No hurling of rotten fruit and not much abusive language. Magdalena’s father made the men climb a ladder one by one, tied a rope around their necks, and pulled the ladder away. The robbers kicked their legs for a little while and wet their breeches, and that was that. The families of three of the men were permitted to cut them down and take them home. Brandner, however, was left hanging in chains as a warning. That was almost three months ago. At first, the cold had preserved him rather well. But by now his right leg had fallen off, and the rest didn’t really look human anymore.
At least the robber chief had had a wonderful view at the hour of his death. The gallows hill was a mound north of the town from which one could see a good part of the Alps on clear days. It was in a solitary location between fields and forests, so that all travelers could see from afar what the town of Schongau had in store for highwaymen. The remains of the robber chief were an excellent deterrent for any other riffraff.
Magdalena felt the wind tugging at her clothes up there. She heard the men laughing not far from her. They seemed to be playing dice and drinking, but Magdalena couldn’t hear what they were talking about. She cursed herself in her mind. This was indeed a well-chosen hiding place. Even if the Elector’s secretary and his troops were to show up in a few hours, the soldiers had nothing to fear up here. The gallows hill was considered a cursed place. It had been the site of hangings since time immemorial. The souls of the hanged men haunted this place, and the earth was littered with their bones. Anyone who had no urgent business there avoided the mound.
And although it was clearly visible even from far off, it was a perfect hiding place. Anyone who wanted to conceal himself in the undergrowth a few yards down could be sure he wouldn’t easily be found.
Magdalena rubbed her hands together, trying to loosen the ropes. How long had she been doing that now? One hour? Two hours? Already, some birds were twittering. Morning was approaching. But exactly what hour was it? She’d lost all sense of time.
By and by she noticed that the ropes weren’t cutting into her flesh that deeply anymore. They were slackening. Carefully, she moved to the side a little until she felt a pointed rock under her. It was poking her ribs quite painfully. She shifted her body until the rock was directly beneath her wrists and began rubbing. After a while she felt the fibers of the rope coming apart. If she kept rubbing long and hard enough, she’d get her hands free.
And then?
Because she was blindfolded she hadn’t yet seen the two soldiers, but as she was being carried she realized that at least one of them must be a powerful man. Besides, they were sure to be armed, and they were fast. How could she escape them?
When she had almost cut through the rope, the voices suddenly fell silent. There were footsteps approaching. Immediately she pretended she was unconscious again. The steps came to a halt next to her, and a gush of cold water splashed in her face. She snorted and gasped for air.
“I’ve won you, girl. At dice…” a deep voice said above her, and someone kicked her side. “Come, wake up, and we’ll have some fun together. If you’re nice to us, we might let you go before Braunschweiger shows up. But before you’ve got to be nice to Christoph here as well.”
“Hurry up, Hans,” the other voice mumbled from afar with a heavy tongue. “It’ll be daylight soon, and the rotten bastard will be here any moment. Then we’ll whack him over the head and clear out of here!”
“Exactly, girl,” Hans said. He had stooped down to her and was whispering in her ear. His breath smelled of brandy and tobacco smoke. Magdalena noticed he was dead drunk. “It’s your lucky day today. We’re going to do that bloodsucker Braunschweiger in today. Then he won’t be able to slice you up. And then we get away with the treasure. But first we’re going to have it off with you properly. That’ll be better than when your spindly physician slobbers over you…”
He pushed his hand under her skirts.
At the same moment Magdalena had finished loosening the final cords of the rope. Without any further thought, she flung her right knee upward, slamming it into the soldier’s groin. With a muffled cry of pain he collapsed.
“You wicked hangman’s wench…”
She ripped the gag and blindfold off her face. Dawn was breaking. It was still rather dark, but through the mists she could distinguish the soldier’s outline as a gray lump on the ground in front of her. Magdalena rubbed her eyes. She had been blindfolded for such a long time that her eyes only gradually grew accustomed to the faint light. She looked in all directions like a hunted animal.
Above her rose the gallows hill. She saw the mortal remains of Georg Brandner swaying in the wind. About twenty paces from her she could see a small fire glimmering in the woods and a man getting to his feet and running toward her. The soldier was somewhat unsteady on his feet but approaching her at an alarming speed.
“Wait, Hans! I’ll get the bitch!”
She was just going to run when she felt a blow to the back of her head. The man on the ground beside her must have gotten to his feet and hit her with a branch or the like. Pain darted like arrows through her head. For an instant she thought she’d go blind, then her sight came back, she stumbled forward, slipped, and felt herself roll down the hill. Twigs and brambles tugged at her hair, she tasted dirt and grass, then she scrambled to her feet again and stumbled into the undergrowth. Behind her she could hear shouting and fast steps approaching.
As she ran toward the mist-covered fields under the cover of the low shrubs, she felt memories of the previous day returning.
She could see everything quite clearly now.
In spite of her pain and fear she had to laugh. She was running for her life, the two soldiers in close pursuit. She was giggling and crying at the same time. The solution was so simple. It was a pity that she might not be able to share it with anyone.
The smoke grew denser and Simon had to cough repeatedly. Clouds of smoke were wafting into the corridor, enveloping Sophie, who was helping him lug one rock after the other from the entryway. They had wrapped wet rags around their mouths and noses, but those didn’t help much. Simon’s eyes were burning. Time and again he had to stop and mop his face. That cost him valuable time. Again and again he looked over at Clara, who was rolling about in feverish cramps in the alcove. For the sick girl the smoke must have been hell.
The hangman had disappeared a while ago. All they could hear now was their own panting and coughing. The hole, which had been no bigger than a fist, had grown considerably. Simon looked at it with increasing impatience. Sophie, who was twelve and rather slight, might be able to push herself through, but it wasn’t big enough for him yet. As the physician moved a particularly big rock to the side, the opening they’d made with such effort collapsed, and they had to start again. At long last the gap was big enough for him to maneuver Clara through. A breeze of fresh air came in from the far side. Simon filled his lungs with it, then he hurried over to the chamber to pick up Clara.
The girl was as light as a bunch of dry sticks. Still, he found it difficult to push her through the gap.
“I’ll go ahead and see if the corridor leads out,” he said to Sophie breathlessly, when he realized he wouldn’t get far like that. “Once I’m through I’ll pull Clara after me, and you push from behind. We have to lift her up a little, so she isn’t dragged along the rocky ground. Do you understand?”
Sophie nodded. Her eyes were sooty slits between her soiled hair and the rag that covered her mouth. Once more Simon admired how calm she was. But maybe it was a result of the trauma she had been through. This girl
