The Beggar King

bathhouse owner was involved in some truly risky business.”

The medicus frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Hofmann had dealings with a handful of men who have quite powerful enemies in the city. Quite powerful, indeed, including members of the Inner Council.”

“I don’t understand what you’re insinuating. What could a bathhouse operator-”

The beggar king interrupted him with a sigh, rubbing his hands together. “I see we’ll have to fill you in a bit. But my advice comes at a price.”

“I have no money.”

Nathan gestured dismissively. “Money! Always money! As if there were nothing more valuable in this life!”

“What do you mean, then?” Simon asked cautiously.

Nathan turned serious, folding his hands as if in prayer and peering intently at the medicus. “Oh, come now, doctor, I’m sure you don’t think I invited you into our hideout without thinking twice if I didn’t have something specific in mind for you.” He gestured at the crumpled figures lying in the corners of the great hall. “Reiser says you’re a talented doctor. As you can see, we’re surrounded by suffering here-folks with infected legs, flies all over them laying eggs in their flesh. Some are so tormented by open sores, festering boils, and wracking, incessant coughs that they’re practically going mad. I want you to examine each and every one of them. At no cost, of course. Clearly, none of them can afford a doctor.”

“And if I refuse?” Simon asked quietly.

The beggar king cleared his throat. “Not a good idea. Tomorrow morning when the hangman comes around to collect animal carcasses and garbage, he just might find a human cadaver, too. I’ve heard wonderful medications can be made from human fat and skin. The apothecary shops pay a fine penny for them.”

“It doesn’t really appear I have a choice, does it?” the medicus replied, his face ashen.

Nathan smiled. “Doesn’t really look that way. From what I’ve heard, you’re looking for a job now anyway. We can offer you room and board, as well as some information you just might put to use. That’s a good deal, as far as I can see!”

“But who will guarantee that you won’t do away with me anyhow, in the end? After all, I know where your hideout is.”

Nathan clutched his chest in horror. “Mon dieu! You’re speaking to the beggar king! Who can you trust in this snake pit Regensburg, if not me?” His voice took on a sly tone. “Naturally, the offer stands only if I can trust you to keep your mouth closed.”

Simon sighed. “All right, then, I’ll do it. What other choice do I have? Now tell me what you know.”

The beggar king shooed the others away from the table and leaned so close to Simon that the medicus almost choked on his foul, garlicky breath.

“Hofmann was one of the freemen,” Nathan whispered, then paused dramatically before continuing. “A secret society of tradesmen and simple citizens who are revolting against the Regensburg patricians. The freemen seek to reassert the rights of the guilds, but the moneybags are fighting them tooth and nail. A few years back a couple of their leaders were hanged for inciting a revolution, and since then the freemen have operated underground, where they’re making plans to break the power of the patricians, by force if necessary, and even, it’s rumored, with the support of the Elector and the bishop.”

“The bishop?” Simon asked, astonished. “But the church-”

Nathan rolled his eyes. “God help us! What kind of onehorse town do you come from? This is Regensburg!” He shrugged. “I can see I’ll have to elaborate a bit. This is a Free City, ruled by the patricians, who are answerable to no one but the kaiser. Capito? But Regensburg is also a diocesan town-the seat of a bishop-and an important city in the Electorate of Bavaria. Thus, both the Elector’s and the bishop’s seats are here, and the bishop even has the power to write and enforce his own laws. For us beggars this complicates things, since we have no idea who will cut off our hands or drive us out of the city. Isn’t that so, my friends?”

He winked at the other beggars, eliciting laughs of approval.

“Both the Bavarian Elector and the Regensburg bishop want to increase their influence in the Free Imperial City,” he continued. “Any means is admissible in their attempts to undermine the kaiser’s and the patricians’ authority. It’s quite possible, therefore, that the nobles are working in consort with the freemen. Is that clear?”

“Of course,” Simon replied after a while, though he really hadn’t understood much of it. “But what does that have to do with Hofmann?”

“Didn’t I just tell you? Hofmann was a freeman,” the beggar king said. “Perhaps he knew something that would be damaging to the patricians, just as the Reichstag was about to meet. So they…” He swiped his fingers across the front of his neck. “And they did the same to his wife. And so as not to arouse suspicion, they arrested this hangman-as a scapegoat.”

“That… seems possible,” Simon replied. “Or perhaps not. One would have to speak with these freemen first.”

Nathan laughed. “Speak with the freemen? Who do you think they are? Washerwomen? They’ll be strung up on the gallows should anyone discover who they are. Nobody can find them.”

“Not even you?”

The beggar king thought for a moment. “Perhaps. But what will that accomplish? Perhaps they’ll decide you are the real murderer. Believe me, the order to kill Hofmann came from high up in the city council. It’s better for you and your girl to go back to your little Schongau. You are too young to die.”

Of course. And I leave my future father-in-law to rot and die in Regensburg, Simon thought. Magdalena would never forgive me for that.

“I want to speak with one of these freemen,” he said finally. “Make that happen, and I’ll get to work right away on my patients.”

The beggar king nodded. “As you like. I’ll see what I can do. By tonight we’ll know more.” He snapped his fingers, and Reiser approached with two other beggars. “I’ll have your things and your girl brought here, too. It’s best if you stay with us for a while, not just because of the matter of the fire, but whores have been disappearing from the streets without a trace as of late.” His golden incisors gleamed again as he began to laugh. “Consider yourselves my guests of honor for the time being.”

Simon got up and went over to a corner of the hall for a better look at his patients. Fat blowflies swarmed around him as if to welcome their new guest.

What Jakob Kuisl missed most was not the sunlight and fresh air but his beloved tobacco. The guards had confiscated his pack, which held his tin of the sweet-smelling weed.

The hangman sighed and wet his parched lips with his tongue. He’d paid a sinful price for the tobacco he ordered specially from Augsburg, and he needed it the way others needed drink-especially when he had to think. He missed his beloved pipe now more than ever, as he lay on the cold floor of his cell, hands tucked behind his head, staring out into the darkness and thinking back on the trial that morning, which had made him realize just how hopeless his situation really was.

They had hauled him up to the office, where they read the short indictment to him. The president of the council and the three lay assessors were convinced of his guilt from the outset: his presence at the crime scene and the will spoke volumes. Only Kuisl’s confession was needed to settle the matter. But the Schongau hangman insisted on his innocence and, in the end, even grew combative. Finally it took four bailiffs to bind his hands and feet and drag him back to his cell.

Ever since, Kuisl could do nothing but wait to be tortured.

He was certain they’d begin soon. The matter demanded immediate attention-the accusations were too grave. Once the torture began, it all depended on him to determine how long it was before the sentence was pronounced and the execution carried out. The longer he held out, the more time Magdalena and Simon would have to find the real killer.

There is a reaper, Death’s his name…

The hangman slapped his forehead but couldn’t get the accursed song out of his mind. He felt as if he were imprisoned twice over-once in this cell and again in his head. The memories were the prelude to his impending torture.

For the hundredth time his gaze wandered over the cell wall, stopping at a bright, smooth spot in the wood.