“Where were you on Friday of last week?” he asked softly.
Jakob Schreevogl remained calm and returned the physician’s gaze.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree if you think I had anything to do with this,” he said sharply. “Don’t forget that it was my daughter who was abducted.”
“Where were you?”
The patrician leaned back and appeared to be reflecting. “I had gone down to the kiln,” he said finally. “The chimney was clogged up, and we worked late into the night cleaning it. You’re welcome to ask my workers.”
“And in the evening, when the Stadel was burning? Where were you then?”
Jakob Schreevogl slammed his hand down on the table so that the gingerbread bowl jumped. “I’ve had enough of your suspicions! My daughter has disappeared, and that’s all that counts for me. I don’t give a damn about your ruined building site. And now get out of my home. Right now!”
Simon tried to calm him. “I’m only following every lead I can find. I have no idea either how all this fits together. But somehow it does, and the devil is the link.”
There was a knock at the door.
Jakob Schreevogl walked the few steps to the door and opened it abruptly.
“What is it?” he asked angrily.
A small boy, about eight years old, was standing outside. Simon had seen him before. He was one of the children of Ganghofer, the baker in the Hennengasse. He stared up fearfully at the patrician.
“Are you the alderman Jakob Schreevogl?” he asked timidly.
“That’s who I am. What’s the matter? Speak quickly!” Schreevogl was about to close the door again.
“The father of Clara Schreevogl?” the boy asked.
The patrician paused. “Yes,” he whispered.
“I’m supposed to tell you that your daughter is all right.”
Schreevogl tore the door open and pulled the boy toward him.
“How do you know that?”
“I…I…am not supposed to tell you. I promised!”
The patrician grabbed the little boy by his soiled shirt collar and pulled him up to look right in his eyes.
“Did you see her? Where is she?” he screamed into his face. The boy struggled and tried to free himself from the man’s grasp.
Simon stepped closer. He held up a shining coin and rolled it back and forth between his fingers. The boy 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
