The Beggar King

“I want to fight-with a longsword.”

The officer hesitates, then breaks into a broad grin. His grin turns into a soft chuckle, then to an outright laugh, louder and louder until he turns around at last to his comrades. “Did you hear that?” he cries. “The young sprout wants a two-hander. Hasn’t even run a pike up a farmer’s ass in his life, and he wants a two- hander!”

The crowd roars. Some of the fifers stop playing to point at the big, pimply, clumsy boy whose shirt and trousers are much too small for his shapeless frame. Jakob is growing too fast; his mother says he’ll soon be able to spit on the heads of everyone in Schongau. But Schongau is far away.

Now the young man picks up a dirty bundle of linen covering a long and narrow object, which he handles as if it contains the kaiser’s own scepter. He lays it out on the table carefully and removes the wrapping.

Inside is a sword so long it reaches to the boy’s chest. With a short cross-guard and no point, its blade glints in the sun.

The crowd’s jeers die down to a murmur as all eyes turn to the weapon. The officer bends down over the longsword and runs a finger along the blood groove.

“By God, a genuine executioner’s sword,” he whispers. “Where did you get this? Did you steal it?”

The boy shakes his head. “It belonged to my father, and to my grandfather and great- grandfather before him.”

Jakob carefully wraps the weapon back up in the dirty, bloodstained linen. His words sound reverent and unusual from the mouth of a snot-nosed fifteen-year-old village boy who wants to enlist.

“My father is dead. Now the sword belongs to me.”

Then the hangman’s son walks down the silent ranks of infantrymen until he reaches the yoke, a horizontal pike supported by two halberds set in the ground.

An old ritual of mercenary foot soldiers: whoever passes through commits himself to war.

Jakob Kuisl was still lying on the floor of his cell at the Regensburg city hall, staring at the inscription on the wall.

There is a reaper, Death’s his name…

He got up at last, reached for a pebble on the floor, and began to scratch away the inscription.

Letter by letter.

At that moment Magdalena was farther from home than she’d ever been in her life.

Blissful, she stretched out on the hard planks of the river raft and looked up at clouds passing over her like white dragons. For the first time in a long while she was happy. The waves slapped rhythmically against the heavy boards, the raftsmen’s shouts sounded far-off, and only Simon, humming softly beside her, seemed real. The medicus was leaning on a wine barrel, staring dreamily across the water at the passing riverbank. His face was still black and blue from the Berchtholdts’ beating, but at least he could open his eyes again. From time to time he spat cherry pits in a wide arc into the water. When one struck the helmsman by mistake, he turned around and shook his finger playfully at Simon.

“If you keep that up, I’m going to have to dump you both into the Danube. Then you can swim all the way to Regensburg for all I care.” He shook his head. “The river is no place for children and lovers-this is a place for work.” He was grinning again, likely thinking back on how he’d met his own wife.

Magdalena picked up a cherry and let the soft, juicy flesh dissolve in her mouth. Schongau was so far away! Less than a week ago they’d fled to the ferry landing in the middle of the night, carrying no more than a sack and a bag. Heaviest were Simon’s medical instruments and a few books he couldn’t bear to part with. Other than that, they brought only a few changes of clothes, a little food, and two blankets. Everything else they left behind: their past, the satirical verses, the paternalism, their secret rendezvous, and the constant fear they might be discovered.

They’d traveled down the Lech past Augsburg in the direction of Donauworth, then along the Danube on a raft transporting cloth and salt to the Black Sea. Along the way they’d passed the university city of Ingolstadt, where Simon had once studied; the little city of Vohburg; and finally the infamous Weltenburg Narrows, where the raft was whisked through whirlpools like a mere leaf blowing along the surface of the water. The steady movement and changing landscape gave Magdalena a feeling of greater freedom than she’d ever known before.

Away from home at last…

But a shadow passed over her face when she thought of her mother and the twins. She’d kissed the sleeping children farewell before closing the door to the house behind her for the last time. The letter she left for her mother was brief and tearstained, but never in her life had Magdalena felt so clearly that she was doing the right thing. Had she stayed, there surely would have been no end to the hectoring-the townspeople’s prejudices were just too deep-and eventually one or another zealot would actually set fire to the house. Master Baker Berchtholdt would see to it that she never had a moment’s peace.

Magdalena could only hope that her mother saw things the same way.

Ultimately, it wasn’t a question of whether they would leave, but of where their journey might take them. In the end it was Magdalena’s aunt who helped them make up their minds. Magdalena admired Aunt Lisbeth Kuisl for her courage in leaving everything behind. Magdalena could be just as strong herself! If her aunt was still alive, she would certainly understand. Magdalena would simply wait until her hardheaded father had left; then she’d knock on Lisbeth’s door, her aunt would open the door and embrace her, and Simon would be given a position as Andreas Hofmann’s assistant at the bathhouse. He could bleed the guests and treat their minor ailments. That would be a start, and who knows? With time Simon might even go on to become the Regensburg city surgeon. A new life would open up for them, a life in which no one would know she was a hangman’s daughter.

But suppose her aunt had died in the meantime, of some kind of growth that even Magdalena’s father couldn’t cure?

She shook her head, trying to drive away these sinister thoughts. She wanted to enjoy the moment. Only the dear Lord knew what the future held.

“We’re here! Magdalena, we’re here!”

Simon’s cries roused her from her musings. She sat up to see Regensburg emerge behind the next bend in the river-a silhouette of buildings, bridges, and churches gleaming in the af ternoon sun. An imposing defensive city wall began at river’s edge and extended, with its redoubts and outbuildings, far inland to the south. Beyond the wall towered the cathedral, the city’s landmark. Bells chimed across the water as if in greeting.

With loud cries the raftsmen prepared for landing, tossing ropes and issuing commands. To the right, beneath the city wall, was a harbor vaster than anything Magdalena could imagine, almost half a mile of jetties and piers where boats and rafts were moored, bobbing up and down. Men hurried about, lugging barrels and cases, disappearing into the storage sheds that lined the city wall. Downriver an imposing stone bridge spanned the Danube, connecting the Free Imperial City with the Electorate of Bavaria. On the Bavarian side Magdalena could make out charred ruins from the Great War; even the suburbs to the south of Regensburg had apparently burned.

With a heavy thud, the raft docked at one of the many wooden piers. Simon and Magdalena shouldered their bags, waved farewell to the raftsmen, and took their places in a long line of laborers and travelers winding their way toward the city gate at the end of the Stone Bridge. The air was laden with scents-spices, brackish river water, fish, and fat sizzling over an open fire. Magdalena was hungry. The two had eaten nothing but cherries since that morning. She pulled Simon over to a little food cart set up with tables and benches behind the bridge. For a few kreuzers they bought some smoky sausages dripping with fat and a small loaf of bread. Sitting on a pier, they let their legs dangle over the side.

“And now?” Simon asked, wiping the fat from his lips. “What’s your plan?”

“What’s our plan, you mean,” Magdalena corrected him with a laugh. “You forget we’re in this together.” She shrugged and took another bite of her greasy sausage. “I suggest we set out for my aunt’s house right away and see if my father is still there,” she said with a full mouth. “After that, we’ll just have to see what happens. Come on, let’s go!” She wiped her hands on her skirt and reached for her sack.

But it was gone.