The Beggar King

possibly flee across the Danube; Kuisl was a good swimmer and the summer current wasn’t as strong as in springtime. He might even be able to break out over the city wall. But something held him back; something kept him from fleeing at once.

Magdalena.

Where was she hiding? Could she already be in the clutches of this madman? Was he torturing her now that his adversary had escaped? Kuisl couldn’t leave this city until he knew Magdalena was safe.

He felt warm juice running down his pant leg. Unwittingly he’d crushed the apple to a pulp in his palm.

He heard a sudden commotion from the ground floor above. Someone was pounding on the front door. The voice of Fat Thea answered.

“Yes, yes, gentlemen! Please be patient! My girls are absolutely wild to get their hands on you. No one’s going anywhere, believe me!”

Kuisl cringed. The aldermen! He’d completely forgotten about them. He heard the door creak softly and shortly thereafter, laughter and a loud chorus of voices. The procuress hadn’t lied. It did seem in fact as if half the town council had joined the party.

“Come right on in, gentlemen!” Fat Thea’s voice boomed from the top of the stairs. “There’s something here for everyone. Hey there, girl, let’s take it upstairs, please; there’s nothing of interest downstairs anyway.”

The hangman instinctively withdrew as he heard footsteps on the cellar stairs, but the sound receded soon and was lost in the upper reaches of the house. Evidently someone had just taken a wrong turn.

After a while he heard giggling and shouting upstairs, indicating the girls were receiving their guests now. There was a sound of breaking glass and of doors opening and closing, a sign that the men were withdrawing to the rooms with their playmates. Kuisl was just about to hide behind the wine barrel again when he heard someone knocking on the front door-no doubt a late arrival.

“Just a moment, I’m coming!”

Fat Thea opened the door to greet the new arrival.

“Oh, what an honor!” she purred. “I haven’t seen you here for a long time.”

“I’ve been rather busy of late,” the man replied. “I hope you haven’t forgotten the whip.”

“Of course I haven’t, silly boy. But this time don’t hit so hard, you hear? Or it will cost you a guilder extra. The girls have complained.”

The man chuckled softly to the sound of coins dropping into a purse.

“Then here are two more guilders right off,” he whispered. “Because believe me, this time it’s going to hurt. There’s a rage in my belly, and it’ll take more than one girl to fix that. Let’s go.”

As he crouched on the cellar floor, the Schongau hangman’s blood froze. Only after the stranger’s footsteps began to fade away did Kuisl’s mind spring back to life again.

He knew this voice. He knew it better than his own by now. He’d heard it all too often these past days and nights, even in his nightmares.

It was the voice of the third inquisitor.

Just after dusk Simon and Magdalena tiptoed through the subterranean hall, around the beggars, who had drunk the barrel of brandy down to the last drop and were now sprawled all over the cellar floor, sleeping it off. Every now and then one would moan and roll over in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent. Simon threaded his way through a litter of gnawed bones, smashed cups, and pools of vomit, careful not to stumble over any of the beggars. Nathan was slumped in a corner, his chin to his chest, cradling a clay mug. For a moment Simon thought the beggar king might still be awake, but then, with a long rattling snore, he toppled over and lay motionless on the ground.

“Quick,” Magdalena whispered. “Let’s get out of here. Who knows when one of them will wake up?”

Simon squeezed her hand. “Just a moment.”

He hurried over to the curtained niche that had served as a sick bay the past few days and began to pack his medical utensils. Meanwhile Magdalena kept a nervous eye on Nathan, who was twitching in his sleep, licking his lips now and then. At some point he reached across the floor as if in search of the clay mug that had slipped out of his hand.

“Hurry!” she whispered. “I think he’s coming to!”

“I’ll be right there.” Simon was frantically gathering his books and stuffing them into the bag when a heavy volume of Dioscorides slipped from his sweaty fingers and fell to the floor with a crash.

“Damn!”

Bending down to retrieve it, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that one of Nathan’s eyes had opened a crack. He seemed to be dreaming, but Simon had the feeling the eye was staring at them disapprovingly. The next moment Magdalena was by Nathan’s side, placing the mug back gently into his hand. Murmuring, Nathan clutched it to his chest like a doll, rolled onto his side, and was soon snoring away calmly and evenly.

“Your damned books!” Magdalena whispered. “One of these days I’m going to make a bonfire of them. Now move!”

Simon hefted the heavy sack onto his shoulder and groped his way toward Magdalena, who was waiting for him impatiently by the exit. They ran along the narrow corridor until they came to the stairway leading up to the rear courtyard. As they hurried up its slick, moss-covered steps, they heard a sudden cry behind them- Nathan! Evidently he’d pulled himself together and had followed them.

“Hey, wait, where are you off to?”

Simon and Magdalena didn’t reply but continued on up the steep staircase. When the beggar king realized they intended to flee, he sprinted after them.

“What in God’s name is this all about?” he shouted. “Is this any way to say goodbye to your friends?”

Despite his drunken state, Nathan was astonishingly fast. He raced up the stairs, taking several steps at a time, and just managed to catch Magdalena by the hem of her skirt. Instinctively the hangman’s daughter kicked Nathan square in the face with her left foot. An awful crunching sound was followed by a shriek of pain. Magdalena had apparently knocked the two golden teeth right out of her pursuer’s mouth.

“Damned hangman’s bitch,” Nathan shouted, his voice sounding strangely garbled. “You’ll pay for this! My teesh, my bschootiful teesh!”

His curses turned to a wail as he stopped to gather the broken pieces of his precious teeth from the floor. Simon and Magdalena took advantage of the extra time to push a moldering cart in front of the opening.

“Sorry!” the hangman’s daughter called meekly. “They were crooked anyway. Simon will make you a new set, I promise!”

Outside, night had already fallen but clouds concealed the stars. The pair climbed over piles of foul-smelling garbage, then ran through the back courtyard toward a narrow passageway.

Soon they’d disappeared in the dark little streets of the city.

Jakob Kuisl stood motionless in the middle of the brothel cellar.

He was certain that his nemesis was directly above him! The third inquisitor had disappeared into one of the rooms upstairs and was amusing himself there with the prostitutes.

There’s a rage in my belly, and it’ll take more than one girl to fix that.

Kuisl would never forget that voice.

What now? His enemy wasn’t alone up there. No, half the city council kept him company, along with some soldiers from Peter’s Gate and a number of noisy prostitutes. If Kuisl went upstairs now, he’d almost certainly be caught.

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what would happen after that. The bailiffs would drag him back to his cell in chains, and this time darkness, torture, and ultimately the scaffold would be inevitable. On the rack he’d probably be forced to confess who had helped him escape, and every turn of the crank would bring the Regensburg executioner closer to his own demise.

And my daughter will be helpless, at the mercy of this madman…

Kuisl knew he didn’t want to risk all that, but he also couldn’t stay here, not with the devil incarnate having his way with the girls just two floors above him. The sound of those voices alone would drive him mad.

And so he had to leave, at once. But where could he go? The only refuge that came to mind was the house of the Regensburg executioner. Aside from Teuber, there was no one in Regensburg he trusted. Perhaps he could stay