opponent, expecting the final blow at any moment.
“It’s over, Silvio Contarini,” the bald man gasped in a high-pitched voice. “In the name of the kaiser-”
He fell silent, his mouth forming a silent
“What happened, Silvio? Is he dead?”
As Magdalena leaped up with relief, she saw a crossbow bolt protruding from between the stranger’s shoulder blades.
“Food for the fish,” the Venetian panted. His gaze rested a moment on his opponent’s corpse drifting away face-down; then he turned toward the shore.
“It was high time, wasn’t it?” he shouted into the slowly brightening gray of morning. “
“Couldn’t have done it, master!” a deep voice replied from the other side of the quay. “I might have hit you, with all the running back and forth.”
In the very next moment three figures appeared out of the darkness, one holding a heavy crossbow. Magdalena caught her breath. They were the three roughnecks who’d been playing cards with Silvio at the Whale. Now she understood why she’d heard all those footsteps behind them as they fled. Evidently these three fellows served the ambassador and had followed their master only to save his life at the very last moment.
But why had they all fled the safety of the Whale in the first place? And why did the stranger speak of the kaiser just before he was killed?
Silvio approached Magdalena, smiling. He gently brushed a lock of hair from her face.
“Ex-experiment?” she stammered. Then her voice failed her.
Silvio just nodded. “I’m really anxious to see how it will turn out this time, Magdalena. After all our failures, it’s high time we made a success of it.”
A blade flashed, and Silvio held up a lock of her hair. “Allow me this souvenir.” He bowed gallantly.
Meanwhile the three men had boarded the unsteady boat. To the east the sun was just cresting the horizon, a glowing red ball.
“What are we going to do with her?” the man with the crossbow growled. “Throw her overboard?”
Silvio sighed. “
Magdalena was speechless. Not until the three grinning, bull-necked monsters began to approach her with anchor ropes in hand did she pull herself together.
“What-what’s this all about?” she whispered.
Silvio shrugged. “You’ll get an explanation, just not here and not now. I know a nice quiet place where we’ll have all the time in the world to chat. So just keep still a little longer…”
“Take all the time you like, you dirty foreigner, but it will be without me.”
Like a slippery fish, Magdalena disappeared over the railing into the filthy, putrid green Danube. Dark waves passed over her as she swam away, but when she’d nearly escaped, powerful hands reached out and dragged her back on board. She struggled and kicked, but the men were too strong. In no time she found herself on the bottom of the boat, tied up like a bale of cloth, a moldy piece of linen stuffed in her mouth. She struggled against her bonds, moaning.
“If you promise not to scream, I can remove the gag,” Silvio offered sympathetically. “Believe me, it would be better for your complexion.”
When Magdalena nodded, one of the men took the cloth from her mouth. She spat out stinking river water and saliva.
“Who…?” she finally whispered. But she had no strength to finish.
“Who was he?” The little Venetian stared downstream, where the stranger’s body was now little more than a distant speck.
“Heinrich von Butten.” Silvio nodded respectfully. “The kaiser’s best agent, a superb swordsman. He was the only one who could have helped you.” A wan smile spread across his face. “And you beat him half to death in the cathedral. How ironic!”
He looked out over the Danube, whose water reflected the blood-red light of the rising sun. “It’s high time for our experiment,” he said, addressing his servants. “Let’s push off, shall we?”
Slowly the boat started to move.
13
REGENSBURG
THE MORNING OF AUGUST 26, 1662 AD
The silhouette of Jakob’s gate rose up before Jakob Kuisl. Dawn was already brushing the top of the tower while night still reigned down below.
It had taken the hangman almost two hours to get here from the bishop’s palace; over and over he’d come across groups of guards and had to take cover. He’d walked in circles through narrow back alleys and wound up several times in the dead end of a courtyard. At one point two guards marched past just inches from where he cowered in an entryway; later he had to dive behind a pile of manure when, out of nowhere, guards appeared in front of him. Now he stood before the same city gate through which, an eternity ago, he’d entered and by which he now had every intention of leaving. Teuber had told him Jakob’s Gate was what most farmers used when they entered the city with their wagons, and now Kuisl hoped to stow away in one of them, hidden among crates, bales, or barrels.
From behind a fountain Kuisl watched the early-morning changing of the guard. The soldiers saluted one another, but their movements seemed sluggish, and some of them stretched and yawned. Kuisl grinned and cracked his knuckles. At least he wasn’t the only one who’d had a long night.
A huge bolt the size of a wooden beam was pushed aside, the towering gate creaked open, and the first farmer came lumbering into the city in his cart. He was followed by ragged day laborers and peddlers with packs of merchandise slung over their backs, men who’d evidently waited the entire night outside the city walls. Cocks crowed and church bells rang as Regensburg came to life.
After closely observing the gate’s activity for some time, Kuisl decided to scrap his original plan. It was simply too dangerous to smuggle himself out of the city this way. However tired the bailiffs appeared, they were still keeping a close watch on everything, and everyone intending to leave the city met with careful inspection first. Again and again guards stuck their pikes into sacks of flour or broke open barrels of wine, seemingly indifferent to the complaints of the merchants and farmers.
“Shut your damned mouth,” one guard shouted when a clothier complained too loudly about having to untie every single bale. “Do you think I’m doing this for fun? We’re looking for that monster from Schongau, jackass! Be happy we’re taking care that the werewolf doesn’t sneak up on you from behind and cut your throat as you go about your merry way.”
“Bah!” the merchant snapped, peevishly packing up his cloth again. “This monster is leading you on a merry chase! You let him escape, and now it’s we who have to pay. If you weren’t always drinking when you were supposed to be at work-”
“Watch what you say!”
As the clothier moved along, Kuisl tried frantically to think of another way to get out of town. He gazed northwest over the city wall, where smoke was rising from the chimneys of several houses. On his arrival in
