Even as darkness fell, he had no fear for his safety. He was, after all, the head watchman at Jakob’s Gate, and the riffraff knew him well. Beggars, thieves, and whores knew better than to trifle with him. Unlike many of the other guards for whom duty at the gate was just another annoying civic responsibility to be performed as a matter of course, Buchner was a trained soldier paid by the city. Besides, anyone who dared assault a city guard risked meeting his end on gallows hill with his guts spilling out. But not before Buchner’s colleagues worked him over; by the time they were through with him, the poor bastard would wish he were dead already.
The lieutenant’s route took him from the city hall square all the way to the wine market near the Danube. Buchner mulled over the exciting events of the past week. The trap set for that Bavarian had worked perfectly! When the man first approached him at Jakob’s Gate, Buchner knew at once that this would be a profitable venture, even though he was surprised that such an influential person would want anything to do with someone as vile as an executioner. But that wasn’t really Buchner’s concern; the payoff was decent enough, and the man had made clear he wouldn’t tolerate any questions.
Even though the man hadn’t given his name, it was of course clear to Buchner who stood before him. As a longtime commander of the city guards, he knew who wielded power in this city. The man had promised him a whole purse of guilders just for seizing the Schongau hangman at Jakob’s Gate and releasing him at the agreed- upon time the following day. An armed contingent was to follow the stranger in secret, and a surprise would be waiting for them all at the bathhouse. When the guard finally saw what the surprise was, he had to hand it to his client. You really had to be careful not to make an enemy of a man like him.
Buchner whistled as he turned into the narrow Wiedfanggasschen Street, driving off a handful of whimpering strays with a few well-aimed kicks. A prostitute, cheaply made-up and haggard, winked at him from a street corner. For a moment the lieutenant considered spending the money he’d come by so easily not on wine but on women- then he thought better of it. In the last few weeks prostitutes had been disappearing left and right in Regensburg; the only ones who still dared to venture out into the streets were almost all old shrews.
“Get out of here before I put your bony frame in the pillory,” Buchner said in a threatening voice, spitting at her.
With a suppressed giggle, the prostitute sauntered off, but not without first offering him a view of her bare, boil-scarred backside. Soon enough Buchner was alone again in the narrow street, and though he’d served as night watchman in this city for thousands of hours, the sudden silence gave him an eerie feeling.
Thinking he caught sight of something moving out of the corner of his eye, he made an abrupt about-face, prepared to show a purse snatcher just what he was up against. No doubt the robber would turn on the spot and flee.
“Who dares approach the city guard-”
The knife plunged into the small gap between his cuirass and armpit and cut straight through to his heart. As blood spurted from his mouth, he stared back at his attacker in disbelief.
“But… why…?”
His knees buckled and he sank to the ground like a marionette whose strings had been cut. One final twitch, and he was still. The coin purse slipped from his limp fingers.
The murderer bent down to feel for the gatekeeper’s pulse, then for good measure slit his throat. At the latest, his colleagues would discover their commander’s stiff corpse the next morning, another tragic victim in a growing wave of crime in Regensburg. His attacker wiped the hunting knife on Buchner’s cloak and, contented, sauntered off with the purse of guilders, humming softly to himself. It was simply not worth the risk of having some garrulous bailiff foil his plan, especially now that this girl had appeared on the scene. No one suspected she’d show up in Regensburg looking for her father. Now what was he going to do about her?
The man decided the matter could wait a while. The hangman’s daughter wasn’t going anywhere, and the more pressing matter now was to dispose of some of the evidence. All would be taken care of, all in good time…
Smiling, he fingered a matchbox in his coat pocket. Soon enough all his worries would vanish like a puff of smoke.
Simon and Magdalena waited until the night was as black as the bottom of the Danube before heading downstairs to the tavern of the Whale. With considerable reluctance, the medicus had finally agreed to Magdalena’s plan to search the bathhouse for some clue that might exonerate Jakob Kuisl.
As he descended the creaking stairs, Simon noticed with astonishment that the tavern, empty just a few hours before, was now at full capacity. Every table was occupied with weatherworn raftsmen and craftsmen smoking their pipes, but more well-to-do citizens were there, too, with their lace collars and sparkling buttons. Laughing loudly and gossiping, they rolled dice as wine flowed so freely that the scrawny server could barely keep their steins full. A dark cloud of tobacco smoke enveloped the men, many of whom held women in their laps: garishly made-up and giggling, groping their patrons’ crotches as they licked their dark, wine-stained lips.
At his usual spot in back by the stove, the Venetian reclined, staring dreamily at the chaotic scene around him and sipping his wine now and then. He was the only one in the room with a leadcrystal glass in front of him.
“Ah,
Simon shook his head coldly. “Sorry, we have other plans for tonight.”
Silvio Contarini winked at them. “For that you could have just stayed upstairs, no?”
Magdalena smiled and pulled away. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to stick your nose into other people’s business? Enjoy your wine, and we’ll see you later.”
“But what about my book?” he called after them. “The poems?
“I’ll wipe my backside with your book tonight,” Simon replied softly, closing the door behind them.
They were immediately engulfed in silence; only the muffled sound of laughter could be heard through the thick windowpanes. A warm breeze was blowing a moldy odor off the Danube.
“Simon, Simon.” Magdalena shook her head with mock severity. “Can you please be a little more polite? Or I might be tempted to believe you’re jealous!”
“Oh, come now!” Simon stomped ahead. “I just can’t stand it when someone uses such cheap tricks to seduce a woman!”
“Cheap?” Magdalena grinned, catching up to him. “
They avoided the large square in front of the cathedral and hurried westward through the stinking, narrow back streets. At this hour it was so dark in Regensburg that they could barely see their hands in front of their faces. Simon had brought along a little lantern from the Whale that he held under his jacket; this at least threw faint light a few yards ahead. They didn’t dare risk any more light, as it was long past curfew, and if the watchmen caught them, they would no doubt both wind up locked in a cell and spend the next day in the stocks in the city hall square. Moreover, the light attracted thieves and murderers, who even now were no doubt lurking in doorways and around dark corners, looking out for drunks on their way home from the taverns and hoping to relieve these poor, besotted souls of their purses, their sterling silver buttons, and their finely polished boots.
Just as he had earlier that day, Simon imagined a robber skulking around every corner: once when he heard the sound of pebbles crunching just a few yards behind them, and later when he heard the faint sound of footsteps. In a narrow passage where the houses were built so close they almost touched, a legless beggar reached for Magdalena’s skirt; she rid herself of that nuisance with a single well-placed kick. But otherwise, except for a handful of drunks they encountered, all was quiet.
After a good quarter-hour that seemed infinitely longer to the medicus, they finally reached the Wei? gerbergraben. Along the road a canal flowed gently and emptied into the Danube, and before them the bathhouse loomed up out of the darkness. A tired watchman clutched his halberd in the entryway, looking as if he might just collapse at any moment.
“Now what?” Simon whispered. “Shall we ask the guard if we can have a look around?”
