Knights,” he concluded. “According to the contract we saw in Steingaden, he was the commander for the entire German Empire. He was a member of the inner circle of power. But in just a few years, the Templars were pursued and wiped out all over Europe. Their huge fortune, however, vanished…” He looked Benedikta straight in the eye before continuing. “Why would a powerful master of the order pose riddles like this if not to conceal something? First there was the quotation on the sarcophagus, now the clue in the basilica…There must be a reason for all that!”
“Do you think…?”
Simon nodded. “I think Friedrich Wildgraf may have hidden the Templars’ treasure somewhere around here. Or at least a part of it.”
“A treasure?” Benedikta picked up her handkerchief and wiped a few drops of wine from her lips. “Why would the Templars want to hide something in this godforsaken spot, of all places? According to what you have told me, they had headquarters in Paris, in Jerusalem, in Rome! What would lead them to the Priests’ Corner, of all places”- she spat the name out like a piece of rotten fruit-“to bury a treasure in the remotest part of Bavaria?”
Simon pounded his fist on the table. “That’s just the point! Nobody would think to look for the treasure here. The French king probably couldn’t have found the Priests’ Corner on a map, even if the duke had drawn a circle around it. Mountains, forests, swamps, and a few illiterate, but well-mannered peasants-the perfect hiding place!”
Benedikta was silent for a while; then she nodded slowly. “Perhaps you’re right.” Her eyes, so often alert, took on a glassy sheen. “How much do you think…?”
“Money?” Simon shrugged. “It’s hard to say, but in any case, more than we can imagine. Don’t forget, the French king ordered the extermination of the Templars just because of this fortune. Even if only a part of it is here…” He broke off in the middle of his sentence and looked around. “In any case,” he whispered, “we had better be careful. People have been killed for a lot less money.”
“But people have also risked their lives for far less,” Benedikta replied with a wink. “Don’t ever tell a businesswoman about hidden treasures; you’ll have a hard time getting rid of her. In my opinion, we should take this risk,” she said, raising her wine glass. “To your health!
“
He was so absorbed in the joyful anticipation of his future life that he didn’t notice a haggard figure in the back of the tavern standing up and heading toward the door. As the man left the tavern, he exuded a soft aroma like a gentle whiff of spring.
6
Magdalena stood in the biting cold in front of the parish church and pulled her woolen shawl tighter around her shoulders. After her visit with the dyer woman, she had wandered aimlessly through the narrow streets. Where could she go? After her angry outburst, Simon would certainly be looking for her at her parents’ house. But even now, after her anger had somewhat subsided, she didn’t want to see him. Perhaps at that very moment he was standing in front of their house in the Tanners’ Quarter and worrying about her. As well he should! How dare he rave to her about this woman! It would be good for him to fret a little. Perhaps it would awaken his guilty conscience. Nobody could treat a Kuisl that way!
Deep in thought, she wandered across the market square. Night was falling and a traveling merchant was hawking scissors, knives, and all sorts of bric-a-brac. The fragrance of honey-roasted hazelnuts filled the air. Magdalena looked around, rubbing her hands together to keep warm. It was snowing lightly now, but at this time of day, there were only a few Schongau residents passing through the square, anyway. Wrapped in more or less ragged clothing, they walked stooped over so snow wouldn’t blow directly in their eyes. Magdalena looked into their empty, gaunt faces. The Great War had ended just a few years before and people were still suffering the consequences. The residents of the once-wealthy city had fallen victim to pestilence, sickness, and hunger. Even now, only the snow covered the crumbling masonry on the walls and the frozen piles of excrement in the streets. Interspersed among the houses were ruins of buildings whose roofs had caved in, silent witnesses to whole families wiped out by the plague. In recent decades, the city had lost more than a third of its inhabitants to the plague, and almost every family had mourned the loss of at least one member. As a child, Magdalena had often seen carts filled with dozens of corpses heading toward the new St. Sebastian Cemetery. The old cemetery by the parish church had filled up long ago and now this new fever had come over the city!
On the spur of the moment, Magdalena decided to go to Semer’s tavern. She still had a few coins in her pocket, and a warm drink would certainly do her some good after all the day’s aggravation. The very thought of it raised her spirits. Her hand was already on the doorknob when she glanced through the bull’s-eye window to the left of the entrance.
What she saw hit her like a slap in the face.
Behind the glass, slightly blurred, she could make out Simon and Benedikta sitting at a table. The two seemed engrossed in something or other, and in the dim light of the candles, she thought she could see Simon put his arm around her. Magdalena shuddered. At first she was tempted to tear open the door, grab a heavy mug off one of the shelves, and throw it at Simon. But instead, she just ran across the marketplace, unable to think clearly, tears running down her cheeks before turning to ice.
When she came to her senses, she was standing near the Kuh Gate. The midwife’s house was just a few yards away, and without giving it a further thought, she tore open the door and stormed in.
Martha Stechlin looked up in astonishment. She was sitting at a table in the main room, crushing some dried herbs in a mortar. She was about to give the young woman a tongue-lashing but changed her mind when she noticed how pale Magdalena was and how she was trembling.
“Girl, what is wrong with you?” she asked with concern. “This isn’t because of the Steigenberg woman, is it? You don’t have to worry; the child is well and you don’t have to…”
Magdalena shook her head, then broke down in tears again. The midwife guided her over to the table, sat her down gently on one of the wooden stools, and stroked her hair.
“What is wrong, my dear?” she murmured, handing her a cup of a hot peppermint tea, which had just been bubbling on the hearth.
Magdalena poured out her heart to the midwife in bitter words, and when she was finished, Martha nodded compassionately.
“That’s just the way men are,” she whispered, “never content with what they have. But sooner or later, they always come back. My Hans…God bless his soul…” Her voice broke and she wiped her eyes as if trying to brush away a tear.
“What about your husband?” Magdalena asked, happy to turn attention away from her own troubles. “You never told me about him.”
“He was always flirting with the girls,” Martha said. “He was never home; he always hung out in the taverns, the dirty swine…” A smile crossed her lips. “But I loved him. Even when we couldn’t have children and people began to gossip, we stayed together. No random strumpet was going to come along and change that.” She winked at Magdalena.
“What became of him?” The hangman’s daughter wiped the tears from her eyes as the warmth of the fire spread up her legs.
The midwife was staring off into space. “He caught the plague. I buried him more than ten winters ago, and since then, I have been alone.”
In the silence that followed, the only thing audible was the crackling of the fire on the hearth. Magdalena bit
