She stopped for a moment to remove her shoes, then continued on, barefoot. The stranger had to be just a few steps behind her by now; she could hear his boots slurping as they sank into the wet ground. She tramped across the vegetable garden, dashed through a small orchard, and finally arrived at a little gate in the wall.
It was locked.
Desperate, Magdalena threw herself against the warped, rotting wood. The gate gave way with a crash, and she slipped through to find herself at a forking narrow lane. On a whim she ducked behind the open gate and held her breath. She listened in stunned silence as the stranger crashed through the gate and paused briefly before dashing off again. His steps echoed down the dark lane until she couldn’t hear them at all.
Magdalena waited a bit before emerging from behind the gate. She ran in the opposite direction-it didn’t matter where, just away from this place, away from the stranger, the ball, the smug nobles and patricians-all of whom seemed like traitors. Away from Silvio.
In her tattered red dress, bare feet, and velvet jacket reduced to rags, she looked like an angel cast out from heaven.
Amid the sacks of flour in the mill, Simon let the stiletto slip from his hand as he stared back at the robed man before him. His mouth gaping, it was a while before he could speak.
“You’re here… with the freemen?” he stuttered. “But why-I mean how…?”
The Regensburg raftmaster tossed his hood to the ground.
“Yes, it’s me,” Karl Gessner replied. “You won’t give a man peace until you learn the truth. But don’t say later I never warned you. You’ve still got time to turn back.”
Simon shook his head in silence.
“That’s what I thought.” The raftmaster sighed, giving a sign to the other hooded men that they were no longer needed.
“Leave me alone with the doctor for a while,” he told them. “I hardly believe he presents a danger to us.”
“But master,” one of the hooded men stammered, “you removed your hood. The man might betray you. Shouldn’t we-”
“He won’t betray us,” Gessner interrupted, finding a seat on a bag of flour. “If what the beggar king told me is correct, then he’s on our side. You may go now.”
The men bowed and left the mill, murmuring. Simon sensed they weren’t all in agreement with their master.
“And so you’re the leader of the freemen?” the medicus said, impressed. “The Regensburg raftmaster? I expected to find a gang of outcasts, lawless…”
“Murderers and scoundrels?” replied Gessner, finishing his thought. “That’s what the patricians say, but the truth is something else.” He motioned for Simon to take a seat alongside him on one of the gray linen sacks. He pulled out a bottle from under his coat, took a long swig, and handed it to the medicus. Although Simon sipped cautiously from the bottle, he burst into a coughing fit. This was high-proof liquor. All the same, he took another deep gulp. After all the frightening things that had happened, he badly needed something to calm him down.
“To the councilmen we’re no more than a gang of criminals,” the raftmaster continued. “But really they’re the bandits.”
“What do you mean by that?” Simon asked.
Gessner stood up and began pacing among the towering sacks of grain.
“Do you see this?” He slapped his palm on one of the bulging linen sacks. “This is good flour-harvested by farmers, ground by millers, and made into bread by bakers. It’s a tremendous job that we workers do every day. We break our backs for it, and all profit goes to line the pockets of the fat merchants!” He spat into the flour dust. “In other cities the workers at least have a voice in their Inner Councils, but not here in Regensburg. Over the centuries patricians have forced us out of the council and taken all the important offices for themselves. Fifty families determine the fate of thousands, and for the last few years now only Protestants have been allowed citizenship!” The raftmaster had worked himself up into a fury. “Is that just?” he demanded, kicking over a pile of wood.
“Regensburg doesn’t even have a mayor anymore!” Gessner continued angrily. “They simply abolished the office because it was filled by popular vote. Now the treasurer rules the council, and he’s one of their own. In Regensburg money rules, not the people! And all that after we fought a long and bitter war to free ourselves from the duke and the bishop. The Free Imperial City of Regensburg-ha! We could be free, but instead we allow ourselves to be led around by the nose like a flock of sheep.”
Gessner had come to the end of his speech. For a long moment there was silence, and then Simon cleared his throat.
“And what do your freemen intend to do about it?”
The raftmaster shrugged dismissively. “In England a while back they beheaded their king and founded a republic. The people won’t let themselves be bossed around so easily anymore.”
“So-revolution? Is that what you want?”
Sighing, the raftmaster sat down on the flour sacks beside the medicus and took another deep swig from his bottle. “We’ve tried peaceful means, believe me,” he said softly. “We pleaded with the council to negotiate, but derision and punishment are all we got. Three years ago the patricians hanged some of our best men for treason and displayed their impaled heads at the city gates. Since then we’ve been working in secret, but my men have grown very afraid of being found out. Most of them have families.”
“I’ve heard that the bathhouse owner Andreas Hofmann was also a freeman,” Simon replied. “Is that why he was killed?”
Gessner nodded. “Hofmann was my deputy. The patricians must have found out and cut his throat, and his wife’s, too, as a deterrent to the rest of us. But they needed a scapegoat, so-”
“And that was the Schongau hangman,” Simon interrupted.
The raftmaster laughed despondently. “He ran right into their trap! The alleged letter from his brother-in-law, the forged will-it was all a setup!”
Simon bit his lip. “Is there no way to save him?”
“I’m afraid there isn’t.” Lost in thought, the raftmaster fingered the red kerchief he wore knotted around his throat. “The patricians will have the Schongau executioner put to death as quickly as possible, if only to cover up the murders of Hofmann and his wife. The only hope we have now is to find some clear proof to present to the council.” Gessner looked at Simon questioningly. “Nathan told me you went to the scene of the crime. Did you notice anything suspicious?”
Simon cursed himself. He should have known the beggar king would talk. On the other hand, it didn’t seem to matter much now that the raftmaster knew about their break-in. He decided to let Gessner in on everything.
“Hofmann’s pharmacy was thoroughly ransacked,” he replied. “But that may just as well have been a couple of guards hoping to find some coins and jewelry. What is certain is that someone tried to kill us while we were inside. We were nearly burned to death in there.”
Gessner furrowed his brow. “Those were no doubt a few of the patricians’ henchmen trying to cover their tracks. They were probably afraid you’d find something.” The raftmaster sighed. “In any case, things look bad for your hangman.”
“But we can’t allow this to happen!” Simon exclaimed, standing up and pacing the floor. “Jakob Kuisl is innocent! We have to prove it!”
“And in so doing, prove the patricians’ guilt?” Gessner laughed aloud. “Forget it. Nobody takes on Mamminger and his henchmen and walks away unscathed, unless he has absolute and incontrovertible proof. Go back home if you don’t want to wind up like a drowned rat in the Danube. That would be the best thing for you and your girl.”
Simon clenched his fists. “Didn’t you just speak of resistance? Of struggle?” He had to rein in his rage now. “Didn’t you just say you wouldn’t tolerate the patricians’ rule any longer? And now you’re backing down! This isn’t the way truly
The raftmaster’s eyes became narrow slits. “Be careful how you speak to me, little doctor,” he said. “You’re talking about things you don’t understand. Leave the battle to those who know how to fight it, you runty little quack!”
A short, ominous silence followed. Then Gessner smiled again, and his temper seemed to abate. “The time is
