beginning of summer tomorrow. This night belonged to lovers. Simon closed his eyes. Actually he had planned to spend May Day with Magdalena. He felt a lump in his throat. The more he thought about it, the more he felt fear creeping up on him.
Suddenly he remembered that tonight something entirely different would also be celebrated. How could he have forgotten. This was the night of April 30—Walpurgis Night! Witches danced in the forests and mated with the devil, and many people armed themselves against evil by means of magic: magic signs in their windows and salt before their doors. Did the terrible murders and strange symbols have anything to do with Walpurgis Night after all? Even though Simon doubted it, he still feared that this night could be a pretext for some burghers to kill the alleged witch in the jailhouse. His time was running short.
He walked past the castle into the Bauerngasse and was soon standing in front of the Schreevogls’ house. A servant girl was standing on the balcony, warily looking down at Simon. Word had gotten around in the meantime that he was having an affair with the hangman’s daughter. When Simon waved at her she disappeared into the house without a greeting to inform her young master.
A short time later Jakob Schreevogl opened the door and let Simon in.
“Simon, what a pleasure! I hope the suspicion against me has been dissipated. Do you have anything new about my Clara?”
Simon wondered for a moment to what extent he could confide in the patrician. As before, he was not sure of the role Jakob Schreevogl was playing in this drama. He therefore decided to be very brief.
“We believe that soldiers murdered the children because they had seen something they were not supposed to see. But we don’t know what that could have been.”
The patrician nodded.
“I suspect that as well. But the council does not want to believe you. Only this morning they met again. The bigwigs want to have everything sorted out. And so a witch and the devil fits their picture a lot better, especially now when time is running short. The Elector’s secretary is arriving tomorrow.”
Simon winced.
“Tomorrow already? Then we have less time than I hoped.”
“Besides, Semer denies that the soldiers met with someone upstairs in his rooms,” continued Jakob Schreevogl.
Simon uttered a dry laugh.
“A lie! Resl, Semer’s maid, told me that it happened, and she was able to describe the soldiers exactly. And they did go upstairs!”
“And if Resl was mistaken?”
Simon shook his head.
“She was absolutely sure of herself. It’s more likely that the burgomaster is lying.” He sighed. “In the meantime I no longer have any idea who to trust…but I came for something else. We have an idea about Clara and Sophie’s hiding place.”
Jakob Schreevogl hurried over to him and grabbed him by the shoulders.
“Where? Tell me, where? I’ll do everything I can to find them.”
“Well, we believe they could be hiding at the building site for the leper house.”
The patrician blinked in disbelief.
“At the building site?”
Simon nodded and started to walk up and down nervously in the antechamber.
“We found traces of clay under the fingernails of the dead children. Clay that could have come from the leper house building site. It is quite possible that the children saw something there from their hiding place and don’t dare to come out now. However we did search all around and didn’t find anything.”
He turned again to the patrician.
“Do you have any idea where the children could have hidden? Did your late father tell you anything? About a cavern? A hole under the foundations? Was there some other building on the property, a building whose cellar could still exist? The priest was talking about an old altar from pagan times…”
Jakob Schreevogl settled into a chair next to the chimney and thought for a long time. Finally he shook his head.
“Not that I know of. The property has belonged to our family for several generations. I believe that even in my great-grand-parents’ time, they had cows and sheep grazing there. As far as I know, there was a chapel or church there long ago and quite possibly also some kind of sacrificial altar. But that was very long ago. We never did much with the property until I decided to have the kiln built there.”
Suddenly his eyes shone.
“The town records…Something like this must be recorded there!”
“The town records?” asked Simon.
“Yes, there is a record in the town registers for every contract, every purchase, and even every donation made in town. Johann Lechner in particular takes great care as the court clerk to see that everything is in good order. When my father left the parcel to the church, an official certificate of donation was prepared. And as far as I can remember, an old map of the property still in my father’s possession was attached to that document.”
Simon felt his mouth go dry. He had the feeling of being close to a solution.
“And where are these…town records?”
The patrician shrugged.
“Well, where would they be? In the Ballenhaus, of course. In the clerk’s office next to the council chamber. Lechner keeps everything in the closet there, everything that is of any importance for the town. You could ask him if you may have a look.”
Simon nodded and turned to the door. There he turned around once more.
“You have helped me very much. Thank you.”
Jakob Schreevogl smiled.
“You need not thank me. Bring me back my Clara—that would be thanks enough.” The alderman ascended the wide stairs. “And now you’ll excuse me. My wife is still sick. I shall go look after her now.”
Suddenly he stopped once more. He seemed to remember something.
“There was something else…”
Simon looked up at him expectantly.
“Well,” Jakob Schreevogl continued, “my father saved a good deal of money in his life. Very much money. As you know we had a falling out shortly before his death. I had always assumed that after the argument he had left his entire fortune to the church. But I spoke with the priest…”
“And?”
“Well, the only thing the church has is this piece of land. I’ve looked everywhere in our house, but I have not been able to find the money anywhere.”
Simon barely heard him anymore. He was again outside, in the street.
In long strides the physician rushed to the Ballenhaus. He was quite certain that the court clerk would never let him look at the town records. At the building site that morning he had made it very clear to him and the hangman what he thought of their suspicions, which was pretty much nothing at all. Johann Lechner wanted peace in the town and not some physician snooping around in his records and possibly discovering a secret that could cost one of the patricians his head. But Simon knew that he simply
In front of the Ballenhaus two bailiffs carrying halberds were hanging around and watched as the last of the market women cleaned up their stalls. Now, in the afternoon, the two guards were the only ones still on duty. Simon knew that there would also no longer be any aldermen in the building. The council meeting had been at noon today, the patricians had long gone home to their families, and the court clerk was over in the castle. The Ballenhaus stood empty. He only had to get past the two bailiffs.
Smiling, he approached the pair. One of them had been his patient at one time.
“Well, Georg, how is your cough?” he asked. “Did it get any better since I gave you the linden blossoms for your infusion?”
The bailiff shook his head. As proof he coughed a few times loudly.
“Unfortunately not, sir. It’s gotten worse. And now my chest also hurts. I can barely do my service. I’ve
