“Believe me, Jakob, I’m innocent, at least of these two murders.” Groaning, Nepomuk settled down on the floor and drew up his legs. “I don’t know who killed the two novitiates, but I have a dark suspicion.”
“Then speak up, or I’ll put you on the rack myself.”
The Brother passed his hands through the little hair remaining on his head and took a deep breath. Finally, he started to speak as Jakob sat back and listened quietly. “Brother Virgilius and I have had many discussions in recent years,” he whispered. “We have almost become friends, probably because we are interested in the same thing-the study of the unknown, the rejection of unproved hypotheses.” The monk smiled dreamily, then continued. “Did not God himself command us to subdue the earth? To do that, we first have to understand it. Even back then in the war, I kept taking notes in my little book-do you remember? Notes on the explosive force of gunpowder, the best way to reinforce trenches, a guillotine for painless decapitations… Unfortunately, no one was interested in my plans.”
“You were a lousy hangman, but a smart fellow,” Kuisl interjected with a grin. “Just a bit too much of a dreamer to kill. You would have made a good scholar, but unfortunately the Dear Lord had other plans for you.”
Nepomuk nodded. “Horrible job, hanging people. I thought the war would be a great equalizer, but then I was a damned executioner again, just like my father and grandfather before me.” He sighed deeply. “When I found a place to hide out here in the Andechs Monastery, I felt I had finally fulfilled my dreams. My work as an apothecary gave me the chance to study other things.” Nepomuk looked around and replied in a conspiratorial undertone. “Especially the studies of the tonitrua et fulgura.”
“Tonitrua et fulgura? Thunder and lightning, you mean?” Kuisl frowned. “What more is there to know about it?”
The Brother’s chuckle sounded like the bleating of an old billy goat. “Hah! Do you know how often lightning strikes up here on the Holy Mountain? Do you? Up to a dozen times a year. If you’re lucky, only a few shingles get scorched, but often a whole building goes up in flames, or the church tower. Twenty years ago a ball of lightning even whizzed through the church like the devil. God alone prevented worse from happening.” Nepomuk’s voice almost cracked. “The monks here ring a bell to ward off a storm in hopes it strikes somewhere else; they pray and sing, but no one has ever thought about how to banish lightning-to exorcise it.”
“Exorcise?” the hangman replied skeptically. “Now you really do sound like a warlock, Nepomuk.”
The Brother shook his head energetically. “You don’t understand, Jakob. Lightning is made harmless by attracting it to iron. That’s not witchcraft but proven truth. Even the pharaohs knew that in biblical times; I’ve read it in old parchment manuscripts; we’ve just forgotten how.”
A smile spread over Kuisl’s lips. “So that’s the reason for the iron bars you had in the forest with you. Magdalena told me about that.”
“I always go out in thunderstorms and set them up at certain elevated locations. It works, Jakob. Lightning is always attracted to them.” Nepomuk was now so wrapped up in his own words that he jumped up and had trouble keeping his voice down. “I had only a few more experiments to make, and I would be finished. A few days before the terrible fire in the church I tied iron bars like that up in the steeple with a wire leading down to the cemetery. I was sure I’d be able to channel the lightning down to earth, but unfortunately…” The Brother broke off and crouched down on the filthy floor, looking discouraged.
“Unfortunately that set fire to the whole church, you stupid ass,” Kuisl continued. “It’s no wonder your Brothers don’t have anything good to say about you.”
Nepomuk shook his head. “They… they just suspect something without really knowing. The only person I told about the experiment was Virgilius, who was excited about it and kept peppering me with questions. He thought there must be someone for whom my studies would have great value. When he started in on that again two days ago, I was afraid the abbot would learn the truth, so I just threw him out of the house. Virgilius ranted and raved.”
“The argument between you and the watchmaker.” Kuisl nodded. “I heard about that. That’s why the monks think you have something to do with his disappearance. In addition, they found your eyepiece at his house.”
“By God, I swear I don’t know how it got there. Maybe I left it lying somewhere and someone picked it up to lure Virgilius to his death.” Nepomuk held both hands over his swollen face as his entire body began to quiver. “And I have nothing to do with Virgilius’s disappearance. On my honor.”
“And that accursed automaton?” Kuisl added. “My daughter thinks she heard it somewhere down below the monastery. Do you know anything about that?”
Nepomuk shrugged. “I know only that this automaton was Virgilius’s favorite toy. If someone stole it, he’d first have to kill the builder-Virgilius would never part willingly with his Aurora.” He wrung his hands in despair. “Someone is out to get me, Jakob. You must help me. I’m more afraid than ever before in my life. You know yourself what I might be facing if I’m convicted of sorcery. First they’ll hang me, then disembowel and quarter me, and finally throw my bloody remains into the fire.” He looked at the hangman hopefully. “Before it gets to that, can you at least promise me quick, clean death? Promise?”
“Nobody’s going to die here if I don’t approve,” Kuisl growled. “My son-in-law told me they want to wait until after the Festival of the Three Hosts in order not to terrify the pilgrims, so we have a few days to find the real culprit. And as sure as my name is Jakob Kuisl, I’ll find him.” He stooped down again and looked his friend straight in the eye. “The only thing that’s important is that you don’t keep anything from me. Can I really trust you, Nepomuk?”
The Brother crossed himself, held up his hand, and swore. “By all the saints and the Virgin Mary, I promise to tell you the truth.”
“Then continue praying in a loud voice.” Kuisl stood up, pulled the cowl down over his head and turned to leave. “After all, we want our two bumpkins out there to think you’re on your way into the purifying fires of purgatory.”
“Isicia omentata. Pulpam concisam teres cum medulla siliginei in vino infusi…”
As the hangman continued mumbling Latin recipes, he pounded energetically on the door. In a moment the chubby watchman appeared to shove the bolt aside and let him out.
“Well, did he confess?” the fat man asked. “Did he stab the two youngsters to death, carry off the watchmaker, and copulate with the automaton?”
Kuisl stopped for a moment and stared back at the man from the darkness of his cowl. Suddenly the two watchmen had the terrifying feeling they were not talking to a father confessor, but the Grim Reaper in person.
“The devil tempts men in many ways,” said the gruff hangman. “But often he comes in a simple garb. He has no need of sulfur, horns, or a cloven foot, and he doesn’t have to make love to an automaton, you idiots. How stupid are you, anyway?”
Without another word, Kuisl shuffled out into the starry night.
In the meantime, Simon was on his way to the underworld.
The medicus had briefly looked in on the sick in the monastery annex who were still being cared for by Jakob Schreevogl. The young patrician had handled his task astonishingly well, enlisting a few of the Schongau group to help. Now a deceptive quiet prevailed in the provisional hospital, broken only by occasional coughs and moans. Two older women had died from the fever, and the medicus still couldn’t say what the origin of the illness was. It began with exhaustion and headaches, then fever and diarrhea followed. It affected everyone equally-strong adults as well as the elderly and children.