as a handful of scarred old veterans he knows he can trust. He promises them all a boar hunt, just as in the old days before the war. Most of these new recruits, though, know no other world; “before the war” is little more than a tale told around the campfire.
The screams come from far off. At first like the chirping of angry birds. Only as Jakob and his men draw near can he distinguish the people’s desperate wails. He pushes his way through branches to stare down at a burning village. Fire is eating through the roofs of the houses, acrid smoke fills the air, and twisted bodies lie scattered on the ground in pools of blood. Cowering in the center of the village square are the women-old, young, pretty, ugly-all wearing thin shirts and trembling, screaming, crying.
Around a crackling fire a few men are roasting chickens and laughing.
Jakob’s men.
They’re throwing dice. Cheers go up, then one mercenary grabs a woman by the hair and disappears with her behind the burning houses. There’s a long, drawn-out scream, a quiet whimper, then silence.
Another round begins. A new game, a new winner.
A moment later an overgrown black-haired man stands and lets out a shriek of laughter as he holds up the dice cup triumphantly. He pulls a girl toward him and grabs her breasts. He’s the double mercenary Philipp Lettner, Jakob’s second in command. Like Jakob, he’s paid double for his service, not on account of his skill with a two-hander but for his ruthlessness at the front. Jakob knows at once that Lettner is the leader of this gang; for years the man has been drinking blood, and all too often Jakob has let him get away with it.
Jakob’s gaze wanders to the recruits at his side, who stare down at the bloodbath in horror. This is war, and now they’re in the midst of it. They may still want to vomit at the sight of it now, but soon enough they, too, will be plundering villages and raping women with the rest. How can they be expected to know what’s right and what’s not? Who is supposed to show them?
Jakob closes his eyes for a second, then gives the men at his side the sign to attack. They storm out of the forest, shouting; there’s a brief struggle, curses, swearing, and then the band of murderers is overwhelmed and disarmed. His eyes cold and scornful, Lettner looks at Jakob. Next to Lettner stand his two brothers, fat Friedrich and scrawny Karl-little Karl, who is still just a child, and a monster. How many of the new recruits at Jakob’s side will turn out like Karl?
“What’s this all about, sergeant?” Lettner asks. “Just having a little fun, that’s all. Let us go.”
“You were throwing dice for the women…”
“Why not? They’re only peasants. Who cares?”
“You threw dice for them, raped them, and then killed them…”
“There’s still some left. Help yourself, Jakob.”
Lettner grins, his white teeth shining like a wolf’s in the light of the fire. How often Jakob has seen this grin in the midst of battle, how often has he closed his eyes to it! Cowering in front of Lettner is a black- haired girl, her eyes glassy with fear beneath bushy eyebrows, a silent plea shining in them, her lips formed into a soft prayer.
She would have been next.
Jakob is overcome with fury like never before. From his pocket he fetches the dice carved from bone and presses them into Lettner’s hand.
“You’re on.”
“What do you mean?” Philipp Lettner looks at him in disbelief, his clear blue eyes flitting back and forth. He smells a trap.
“You’re going to play for your lives. Every third man hangs.”
“You goddamned bastard!”
Fat Friedrich jumps up to plunge his dagger into Jakob’s stomach. But the young sergeant dodges and strikes the fat combatant in the face with the pommel of his sword. He hits him over and over. Friedrich staggers toward a burning house, flailing his arms, trying to find something to hold on to, until at last he stumbles over the threshold and falls screaming into the raging inferno. Timbers begin crashing to the ground, and then there’s only silence.
Turning, Jakob approaches the campfire and points his sword first at Philipp Lettner, then at the dice.
“I said play.”
Suddenly he feels the black-haired girl looking at him. Her eyes are deep, murky whirlpools; they’re pulling him down, and he can’t tear his eyes from hers. A fire burns in the pit of his stomach, far hotter than the flames on the rooftops.
Only later, when the last bits of life twitch in the dangling legs as they sway gently in the breeze, when the final horrid scream has been carried off on the breeze, when he’s ridden away with her, far away, homeward, where there’s no more war-it’s only then, when he’s decided he’ll never be a mercenary again, that he learns her name.
Anna-Maria.
She will be his partner for life.
“Damn, Kuisl! What’s the matter with you? Wake up!”
The pain in his left shoulder brought Jakob Kuisl back to the present. Teuber had grabbed him and was now shaking him roughly.
“Wake up before that bastard rams his katzbalger straight through your stomach!”
Kuisl shook himself until his vision cleared. He looked up to find Philipp Lettner just a few steps away, his sword upraised and a smile still on his lips.
“Let him be, hangman,” Lettner purred almost tenderly. “It’s the memories taking hold of you, isn’t it, Jakob? All the dead who’ve paved your walk through life. Did you really think you could live happily ever after with your pretty farmer’s daughter in Schongau? No!” His voice suddenly turned sharp and cold, just as it had days ago in the torture chamber. “I swore revenge! I knew I would get a hold of you one day, and now that day has come!”
The hangman wiped the sweat from his forehead. The sun was now directly above the little village, and its rays stung him like needles. His pain returned, bringing nausea with it.
“Why did you kill my sister?” he whispered. “Lisl did nothing to harm you.”
Philipp Lettner laughed out loud. “You fool!” he cried out. “You still don’t see, do you? It was your sister who led me to you! When it became clear her husband would have to die, I had to figure out how best to manage it. Only then did I come upon her maiden name, Kuisl.” He spat the name out like a mouthful of dirt. “So, naturally, I got a little inquisitive. The little woman was really fond of you; she loved to talk about you- your darling daughter and your oh-so-beloved Anna-Maria. After a while I realized the Lord above had given me a gift, an honest-to-God gift from heaven-you!” Lettner broke into shrill, almost feminine laughter as little tears sparkled in the corners of his eyes. But in the next moment he regained his composure.
“I am your destiny and your undoing,” he continued in a sharp voice. “I sent the letter to Schongau to lure you to Regensburg; I cut the throats of your sister and brother-in-law and devised this trap. I was the third inquisitor, and now I’m death staring you in the face.” He bowed like a tacky street magician and lunged with his katzbalger.
“Murder always takes two,” growled Teuber, who’d listened in silence till that point. “You’ll no doubt have an easy time of it with a sick man like Kuisl, but you forget you also have me to deal with.”
Lettner feigned astonishment. “Ah, so true, little hangman, I’d almost forgotten all about you.”
The raftmaster raised his left hand as if in a tentative greeting. Kuisl noticed a shadow in the church-tower window, then heard something whir through the air. A bolt from a crossbow struck Teuber in the chest and sent him tumbling backward, flailing his arms like a drowning man, his mouth wide open in a mute scream. He fell at last, like a tree crashing to the ground, and lay still, his huge chest rising and falling, staring quizzically up at the sky.
“Now it’s a fair fight, isn’t it, Jakob?” Lettner whispered. “Just you and me. Here in Weidenfeld. I hope you don’t mind if my brother Friedrich watches up there. He’s thought about you a lot these past years.”
Kuisl looked up to see a figure standing in the burned-out window of the ruined tower. The man, tall and broad, held a crossbow in his hands like a toy. This was the stranger he’d seen almost two weeks ago on the raft
