appeared to be searching for something with lanterns and torches. One man sat on a boulder near the linden tree in the middle of the clearing, two were leaning by the well, and the other two were in other parts of the site.
“I’m getting tired of freezing my behind off here in the dark!” shouted one of the men, who was inside a big square of walls. “We’ve been searching here almost all night now. Let’s come back again tomorrow, by daylight!”
“In the daytime the place is swarming with workers, you idiot,” hissed one of the men by the well. “Why do you think we’re doing all this at night? Why did we knock everything down after sunset? We’ll go on looking, and if Moneybags has lied to us and there’s nothing buried here, then I’ll smash his skull on this well like a raw egg!”
Simon pricked his ears.
The hangman nudged him on the shoulder.
“We can’t wait any longer for the bailiffs,” he whispered. “We don’t know how much longer they’ll stay here. I’m going to run over to that side wall and get one of them. You stay here. If you see anyone coming toward me, whistle like a jaybird. Can you do that?”
Simon shook his head.
“Damn it, then just whistle as best you can. They won’t notice it.”
Jakob Kuisl looked round for the last time, then hurried with long strides toward the wall and took cover behind it. The men had noticed nothing.
More shouting could be heard, now farther away, so that Simon found it increasingly difficult to understand them. He saw that the hangman, stooping, ran along the side of the wall, directly toward the man inside the square, who was trying to pry up the flagstones with a wooden stick. Jakob Kuisl was only a few strides away from him. Suddenly the man turned round. Something had aroused his attention. The hangman let himself fall to the ground. Simon blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, the darkness had swallowed Jakob.
He was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when he heard a sound in front of him. The second man, who had been walking around the site, was suddenly standing right before him. He looked just as surprised as Simon was. The man had evidently been looking for a hiding place on the far side of the pile of logs. Now he had turned the corner and stumbled right into Simon.
“What the devil?”
More he could not say, for Simon had seized a stick and had struck the man’s legs from under him. The man fell over on his side. Before he could pick himself up, Simon was upon him pummeling him with his fists. The face of his adversary was bearded and scarred, and the blows seemed to bounce off him as if from a rock. With a sudden movement he grabbed the physician, held him up for a second, and flung him forward. At the same time he raised his right hand to strike a blow.
He hit Simon on the side of the head, and Simon fainted. When he came to, the man was sitting on his chest and throttling him with both hands, while his face was contorted into an ugly grin. Simon saw the rotten stumps of teeth and beard stubble, red, brown, and black like a mown field in October. Blood was dripping on him from the man’s nose. Simon saw every detail with a clarity as never before. In vain he struggled for air, he felt that he was nearing his end. Scraps of thoughts and memories whirled wildly through his head.
Must pull…the knife…from the belt.
He fumbled for his knife even as he started to lose consciousness again. At last he found the hilt. Just before he lapsed into final unconsciousness he drew out the stiletto and lunged. He felt the blade slide into something soft.
A scream brought Simon back to the present. He rolled quickly to one side, gasping for air. The bearded man lay near him, rubbing his thigh. Blood was spreading over his hose. Simon had wounded him in the leg, but it was obvious the injury was not severe. The man was looking at him already and grinning. He drew himself up, ready to attack again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a stone lying on the ground and bent over to pick it up. For one moment his face was turned away, and in this moment Simon threw himself on him with the knife. The man cried out in astonishment. He had expected the weedy-looking youth to just run away, and this sudden attack surprised him. Now Simon sat astride his opponent’s broad chest, holding his knife in his raised right hand, poised to attack. Beneath him the man’s eyes filled with terror. When he opened his mouth to scream again, Simon knew that he had to strike immediately. He could not risk the man being heard by the others. He felt the hilt in his hand, the hard wood, the sweat on his fingers. He felt the man writhing under him, looking certain death in the eyes.
Simon noticed his arm becoming as heavy as lead. He…could not strike. He had never killed. That was a threshold he couldn’t cross.
“Ambush!” screamed the man under him. “Here I am, here behind the pile of logs…”
The oak cudgel whizzed right past Simon and struck the man in the middle of the forehead. The second blow crushed the skull and blood and white matter oozed out. The face changed to a bloody mush. A strong hand pulled Simon off the body.
“Damn! Why didn’t you finish him off before he began to scream? Now they know where we are.”
The hangman threw the bloodstained branch to one side and dragged Simon behind the woodpile. The physician could not answer. The face of the dead man had burned itself into his memory like a picture.
Soon afterward they heard voices coming closer.
“Andre, was that you? What’s happened?”
“We must get away from here,” whispered the hangman. “There are still four of them, and they’re likely to be experienced soldiers. They understand about fighting.” He grabbed the half-unconscious Simon and dragged him to the edge of the wood. Then they let themselves drop into a bush and watched what happened next.
It only took the men a short time to find the body. There were loud cries, someone screamed. Then they swarmed in all directions. Watching the torches, Simon could see that they always stayed in pairs. They went along the edge of the wood and poked their torches into dark places. Once they passed within a few steps of their bush. But it was too dark and they could not see anything. Finally they gathered together again by the corpse. As Simon was getting ready to breathe again, he saw that one of the points of light was approaching their hiding place. It was one man alone. From his gait he could see that the man had a limp.
At the edge of the forest, not far from their bush, he halted and raised his nose in the air. It looked as if he was sniffing. His voice reached them clearly.
“I know that was you, hangman,” hissed the limping man. “And I know that you are somewhere out there. Believe me, I’ll have my revenge. I’ll cut off your nose, ears, and lips. The tortures you have inflicted on others are nothing to those you yourself will suffer. You’ll beg me to smash your skull in, just as you have done to Andre.”
The man turned abruptly around and was swallowed by darkness.
Not until some time had passed did Simon dare to breathe freely.
“Who…who was that?” he asked.
The hangman stood up and brushed the leaves from his coat. “That was the devil. And he’s got away from us. All because you crapped your pants!”
Automatically, Simon turned away from him. He felt that he was not only afraid of the devil but also of the man next to him.
“I…I can’t kill,” he whispered. “I’m a physician. I’ve learned to heal people, not to kill them.”
The hangman smiled sadly.
“There you are. But we are supposed to be able to do it. And when we do it, then you are horrified. Stupid lot, you’re all the same.”
He stomped off into the forest. Suddenly Simon was alone.
Magdalena knocked frantically at the little manhole down by the Lech Gate. The opening was just high and wide enough for one person to fit through it. In this way the watchmen didn’t need to open the whole gate for latecomers, thus risking an attack.
“It’s the middle of the night! Come back tomorrow; the gate opens when the bell strikes six,” growled a voice from the other side.
“Alois, it’s me! Magdalena Kuisl. Open, it’s important!”
“What’s next? First I let you in, then out again, and now you want to come in again. Forget about it, Magdalena, nobody comes into the town before the morning.”
“Alois, down at the building site on the Hohenfurch Road there is more destruction in progress. Strangers are there! My father and Simon are watching them, but they can’t hold out long! We need the bailiffs!”
The manhole creaked open. A weary watchman stared at her. He stank of brandy and sleep. “I can’t help you
