Simon sighed and turned on his heels.
“Stop right there!”
The voice had come from somewhere out in the depths of the forest. Simon stopped and looked back over his shoulder. A stone hit him in the side.
“Ouch! Damn it, Sophie…”
“Don’t turn round,” came Sophie’s voice again. “You needn’t see where I am.”
Simon obeyed, shrugging his shoulders. The place where the pebble had struck him was terribly painful. He had no desire to be injured by another stone.
“The boy tattled, is that right?” asked Sophie. “He told you that I sent him.”
Simon nodded. “Don’t be angry with him,” he said. “I would have guessed it anyway.”
He focused his eyes on a point somewhere in the dense undergrowth in front of him. This helped him to speak to the invisible girl.
“Where is Clara, Sophie?”
“She’s safe. I can’t tell you anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’re looking for us. Clara and I are in danger, even in the town. They already got Peter and Anton. You must keep an eye on Johannes Strasser, at the innkeeper’s in Altenstadt—”
“He’s gone missing,” Simon interrupted the girl.
She was silent for a long time. Simon thought he heard her sob quietly.
“Sophie, what happened that night? You were all together, weren’t you? Peter, you, Clara, the other orphans…what happened?”
“I…I can’t tell you.” Sophie’s voice trembled. “It will all come out. We’ll be burned—all of us!”
“Sophie, I swear I will stand up for you,” he said, trying to calm her down. “Nobody’s going to get hurt. Nobody…”
He heard a branch break. The sound came not from behind, where he supposed Sophie was standing or sitting, but from the front. On the left, twenty paces in front of Simon, there was a stack of sticks.
Something was moving behind the pile.
Simon heard a thump behind him and steps hurrying away. Sophie was escaping.
Just a moment later a figure dashed out from behind the pile. The person was wearing a coat and a broad- brimmed hat. At first Simon thought it was the hangman, but then the figure drew a saber from under his coat. For one short moment the sun shone through the thick branches of the forest, and the saber glittered in the light. As the figure rushed toward him, Simon noticed something clutching the saber, something white.
It was the hand of the devil, a hand of bone.
Simon suddenly felt as if time had arrested. Every gesture and detail burned itself into his brain. His feet seemed glued to the earth, as if stuck in a swamp. Not until the devil was ten strides from him could he move again. Terrified, he turned and ran to the edge of the forest. Behind him he heard the steps of the devil, a rhythmic crunching of gravel and earth. Soon he could hear the breath of his pursuer drawing closer.
Simon dared not turn around for fear this would slow him down. He ran and ran, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, and he knew that he would not be able to maintain this pace much longer. The man behind him was used to running, his breath was regular and even, very soon he would catch up. And the edge of the forest was still not in sight. All he could see was dense woods and shadows.
The sound of breathing came even closer. Simon cursed himself for his idea of going into the forest alone. The devil had seen him and the hangman at the building site. They had pursued him, and they had provoked him, and now the devil was at his heels. Simon had no illusions. When the man caught up with him he would kill him, as quickly and casually as one would kill a bothersome fly.
At last the forest seemed to brighten in front of him. Simon’s heart raced. That must be the edge of the forest! The path went down into a hollow before it finally left the forest and led down to the river. Light broke through the treetops, the shadows retreated. Simon staggered on a few yards, then dazzling sunlight surrounded him. He had reached the end of the forest. He staggered over a bank and saw the raft landing beneath him. People were standing on the riverbank, and oxen were drawing a wagon up the hill toward the forest. Only now did he dare to look around. The figure behind him had vanished. The edge of the forest appeared to be nothing more than a black ribbon in the midday sun.
But he still felt he was in danger. After taking a few deep breaths, he ran on unsteadily toward the raft landing, looking behind him all the way. As he turned his head once again toward the forest, he collided with someone in front of him.
“Simon?”
It was Magdalena. She had a basket in her hand filled with wild herbs. She looked at him, in astonishment.
“What’s happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Simon pushed her down the few remaining yards to the raft landing and collapsed onto a stack of beams. Not until he was here amid the busy activity of the raftsmen and wagon drivers did he really feel safe.
“He…was after me,” he stammered at last, when his breathing was more or less regular again.
“Who was?” Magdalena asked anxiously and sat down beside him.
“The devil.”
Magdalena laughed, but her laughter did not sound genuine. “Simon, don’t talk nonsense,” she said finally. “You’ve been tippling, in the midday sun!”
Simon shook his head. Then he told her everything that had happened since the morning: the destruction at the building site, the pursuit with her father in the woods, the conversations with the parish priest, Schreevogl, and Sophie, and finally his flight down to the raft landing. When he had finished, Magdalena looked at him with worried eyes.
“But why did the devil pick on you?” she asked. “You don’t have anything to do with it, do you?”
Simon shrugged. “Probably because we are on his heels and because we almost got him.” He looked at Magdalena very earnestly. “Your father is in danger too.”
Magdalena grinned. “I’d like to see the devil try to punch my father. My father’s the hangman, don’t forget that.”
Simon got up from the pile of wood. “Magdalena, this is no joke,” he cried. “This man, or whatever he is, has presumably murdered a few children! He wanted to kill me, and perhaps he’s observing us at this very minute.”
Magdalena looked around. Right in front of them, wagon drivers were loading two rafts with cases and barrels and lashing them into place. Further on, a few men were clearing away the charred remains of the Zimmerstadel, and elsewhere new beams were already being put up. One of the men occasionally turned to look at them and then whispered to his neighbor.
Simon could well imagine what they were whispering: the hangman’s whore and her lover boy…the physician’s son, who goes to bed with the hangman’s wench and doesn’t believe that the devil is making his rounds in Schongau, or that the midwife must be burned.
Simon sighed. Magdalena’s reputation was ruined anyway, and by now, his as well. He put his hand against her cheek and looked deep into her eyes.
“Your father told me that you found a mandrake in the forest,” he said. “You probably saved Martha Stechlin’s life with it.”
Magdalena grinned.
“That’s a fair exchange. After all, she gave me my life. I was a real pain when I was born, my mother says. I was the wrong way around and didn’t want to come out. If it hadn’t been for Martha Stechlin, I wouldn’t be here. Now I can pay her back.”
Then she became serious again.
“We must go to my father and warn him,” she whispered. “Perhaps he’ll think of some way that we can catch the devil.”
Simon shook his head. “Above all we must find out who took part in the meeting with this so-called devil and the other soldiers at Semer’s inn. I’m sure this person is the key to everything else.”
Both fell silent in thought.
