prostitutes have been disappearing all over the city. You must have heard about that!”
Kuisl shook his head, and the procuress sighed deeply.
“No matter,” she continued. “All hell has broken loose over in the garrison. Every bailiff in Regensburg is out looking for you now, and the city gates are so well guarded you’d think the devil himself were on the loose! They want to pin all the murders of the last few weeks on you. It’s like they’re hunting a wild animal!”
“How do you know all this?” Kuisl whispered.
“One of the soldiers at Peter’s Gate let me in on it,” Dorothea replied. “They tried to keep your escape under wraps because they were so embarrassed, but now, after Haberger’s murder, all the bailiffs are on full alert. The public still doesn’t know anything; the bailiffs are probably trying to avoid a general panic. But word is sure to spread fast. They’ll be inspecting every last mouse hole, and I have the council coming here tonight, damn it all to hell!” She kicked the wall so hard that some of the plaster came fluttering down, then took a deep breath and glared at Kuisl with her one eye.
“I promised Philipp that you could stay here, but I didn’t say for how long. It’s bad enough I’ll have a house full of aldermen and soldiers tonight, but now I have a monster living in my wine cellar, too.” She hesitated a moment. “It’s too risky. You can stay tonight, but you’ll have to leave in the morning. I’ll pack up a few things for you-clothing, bread, everything you’ll need. Can you walk?”
Kuisl nodded. “I can manage.”
Dorothea sighed. “Don’t be angry with me, but I have a daughter-you understand-and…”
“I have a daughter, too.” The hangman sighed. “I understand. Tomorrow I’ll be gone.”
“Good. Then we’ve said all there is to say.”
The procuress went out into the cellar and returned with a cold piece of roast and a full jug of wine.
“Here,” she said. “It’ll help you get your strength back. You can put these new clothes on now. They may be a bit snug, but they’ll do.” She tossed him a little bundle. “Linen shirt, trousers, and simple leather shoes; you’ll look just like any other ordinary stable hand. Leave your old rags here, and I’ll bury them.”
“God bless you.” Kuisl bit into the roast greedily.
Fat Thea sat and watched him eat. “What’s your daughter’s name?” she finally asked.
The hangman hastily swallowed a mouthful of food. “Magdalena. A real devil of a girl. If I ever see her again, I’m going to give her one hell of a whipping.”
Dorothea smiled. “Just as long as you don’t slit her throat.”
Lost in her own thoughts, the procuress took a sip from the jug of wine she had brought the hangman. “Don’t be too strict with your daughter,” she said, with some concern. “Growing children are like foals. If they’re not given room to run, they’ll lash out in every direction.”
“That’s no excuse for her to go gadding all about this godforsaken city with her good-for-nothing sweetheart and leave her mother and our children all alone at home, the ungrateful little brat.” Kuisl wiped his hand across his mouth. “The little ones are likely crying their eyes out while the fine
But his real fear went unspoken: that Magdalena might at this very moment be in the hands of some lunatic, a lunatic bent on torturing
Dorothea whistled softly through her teeth. “Magdalena seems like a real little minx. What sort of mischief has she gotten herself into?”
“Well, at the moment she’s trying to save me from the gallows,” Kuisl said. “I only hope nothing’s happened to her-her and that daft charlatan.”
Curled up in the subbasement of the catacombs, Magdalena stared morosely at the flickering oil lamp in front of her.
Shadows darted across the ancient foundation stones that still bore a few faintly legible Latin inscriptions. Simon once told her that long ago the Romans had built a settlement on this spot. Over the course of many centuries the city had grown up around these ruins: the Jewish quarter was established on this spot, and after the Jews were driven out, Neupfarrplatz, or Neupfarr Church Square, with its Protestant church, had been built. Here, deep underground, buried in its history, Magdalena felt as if she could hear the heart of Regensburg beating, and beating so loudly it drowned out the anxious pounding of her own heart. In this place she felt as safe as if she were in her mother’s womb.
Magdalena closed her eyes. How could she have left her mother and the twins all alone, all for the sake of a tawdry dream of a new life in this strange city? Magdalena had been thinking only of herself, and of Simon, and now she’d failed everyone. Her father was still wasting away in a death cell, the victim of some conspiracy. Soon the Regensburg executioner would haul him up onto the scaffold, and she and Simon would be forced to watch the hangman break his bones. What would Mother say when Magdalena finally returned home?
Could she ever go back?
Magdalena’s thoughts also lingered on Simon. Where in the world could he be, and was he still angry at her on account of the Venetian ambassador? What had caused her to snap at him like that? Once again she’d bolted from him like a wild mare. Why couldn’t she control her temper?
After her second visit to Silvio’s house, Magdalena knew she would never fit into his glittering, gaudy world. There was an insurmountable wall between Silvio’s life and her own, and she had now experienced firsthand the city’s cruelty, how mercilessly it dealt with anyone who didn’t belong. There were the
She would always belong to the dregs of society.
Someone came running down the crumbling staircase now, startling Magdalena out of her reverie. She was just about to extinguish the light to hide in the darkness when she recognized the figure standing before her. Simon! She leaped up and ran toward him.
“Simon! I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have…”
Not until that moment did she notice the grave expression in his eyes. She stopped in her tracks. “What’s happened?”
With his finger to his lips, Simon led her to the farthest corner of the old Roman vault.
“Forget everything that’s happened up till now,” he whispered. “There’s something much more important we’ve got to deal with. We have to get out of here, tonight if possible.”
“What are you saying?” Magdalena’s voice echoed through the room.
Simon cringed, clapping his hand over her mouth. “For God’s sake, be quiet!” he gasped. “I have the feeling that all of Regensburg is conspiring against us now.”
In a whisper he told Magdalena of his meeting with Gessner and of his suspicion that Nathan was in league with the city. He also told her about the philosopher’s stone.
She listened with a furrowed brow. “So you think my uncle really did discover this stone?” she asked at last, a bit skeptical. “But isn’t it just some fantasy the alchemists peddled to their princes and sponsors to ingratiate themselves with them?”
Simon shrugged. “Who knows? The stone is more a symbol than a real object. Paracelsus wrote about it; I attended a medical lecture on it at the university in Ingolstadt. Some people really believe some substance exists that can transform base metals into gold or silver, while there are others who speak of a powder that, when mixed with wine, will bestow health and eternal life.
“So it’s a medicine…” Magdalena nodded thoughtfully. “That’s something a bathhouse owner like Hofmann could really have used.”
“Do you remember the mountains of burned flour down in the alchemist’s workshop?” Simon asked. “I’ve been thinking it over; I’m pretty sure it wasn’t flour. It may have been the very powder Mamminger was looking for. I pinched a sample as we were leaving.” He pulled Magdalena close to him. “We have to get away from here. I get the feeling Nathan’s been sounding us out for a while now. Do you remember how he insisted on coming with us into the cathedral? After that he disappeared, just like Mamminger and the murderer. And he was eavesdropping on us down in the catacombs as well. Gessner’s right! We can’t risk having Nathan follow us everywhere, only to have him call the bailiffs when he thinks we’re getting too close.”
“But where do you want to go?” Magdalena asked. “Don’t forget we’re still wanted for arson. There’s no
