“For God’s sake, all right, all right,” the short knacker rushed to the door and pressed the latch. Two hunters in green hunting costumes stormed in. Magdalena recognized them as the same men who had been guarding Nepomuk in the dairy a few days ago. They were armed with lances, and small crossbows hung from their belts. Behind them came a foppish youth and a potbellied older man whom the hangman’s daughter knew all too welclass="underline" the Schongau burgomaster, Karl Semer, and his son, Sebastian.
Squinting, old Semer scrutinized the scantily furnished room before speaking. “Where is he?”
“Where is who?” Magdalena was puzzled. “I don’t know whom you’re talking about.”
“Your father, you dumb goose,” Karl Semer walked up to Magdalena and glared at her. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re up to? A stranger dressed as a Franciscan monk slipped into the monastery yesterday-a spy. He probably even stole documents from the monastery before running off. The prior told me everything.” He moved even closer, so close that Magdalena could smell his pungent sweat. “And do you know what else the prior told me? This fraudulent Franciscan was over six feet tall, a bear of a man with a hooked nose like nobody else in the Priests’ Corner. I know your father is behind this. Admit it.”
Magdalena appeared calm, but inside she was seething. She hadn’t seen her father since the morning before, and evidently he’d been caught snooping around the monastery. She could only hope nothing had happened to him.
“Nonsense,” she replied coolly. “Why would my father be here in Andechs? Perhaps he’s on a pilgrimage? An executioner?” she scoffed. Michael Graetz stood there silently, his arms crossed, and she hoped he wouldn’t betray her.
“Ha, hangman’s girl, you lie whenever you open your filthy mouth,” the burgomaster growled. His son’s lips curled into a faint smile, and Magdalena could feel him looking her up and down.
“Your own husband tipped us off,” he continued. “A few days ago in the tavern he boasted of how his father-in-law would straighten out things in Andechs.”
“Then my father changed his mind. In any case, he’s not here. You two can come and have a look under the bench.” Magdalena turned to her children who were awake now and had started crying. “And now goodbye. As you can see, I have better things to do than stand here listening to idle talk.”
The two hunters were still standing in the doorway with their lances, but now they looked uncertain. Evidently old Semer had promised them they could arrest the false monk in the knacker’s house and reap a handsome reward for it, but all they found was a rude woman with two screaming brats and a grim-looking knacker in a bloody work apron.
“What’s this all about, Alois?” Michael Graetz growled. Obviously, he knew one of the hunters. “Is this any way to behave, to just come crashing into the house of an honest man, shouting wild accusations?”
“I’m sorry, Michael, but-” the man started, but Karl Semer interrupted.
“This isn’t a house, it’s a pigsty,” he shouted. “And I’m not going to let myself be criticized by a filthy knacker, especially when he’s lying. There’s no question that Kuisl was here, and somewhere, we’re no doubt going to find that damned Franciscan robe.”
In the meantime, young Semer had been wandering through the room with visible disgust, carefully examining things. Finally, he stopped in front of a windowsill where he found a small leather pouch that looked familiar. When he tipped it over, little flakes of tobacco fell to the floor.
“Aha, and what is this here?” Sebastian Semer shouted triumphantly. “I know only one person who smokes this stinking weed, and that’s the Schongau hangman.”
“Then you’re sadly mistaken,” replied Magdalena without batting an eyelash. “I like to smoke a pipe now and then myself. It’s good for digestion, young councilor. You should try it sometime; then you wouldn’t have so much gas.”
“You smoke it, too? A woman?” It took Sebastian Semer a while to pull himself together. “That’s… that’s a damned lie.”
“I can attest to it,” the knacker answered quietly from his corner. “She smokes like a saber-rattling Saracen.”
“Then… then you’re lying too. I’ll-”
“Me? Lying?” Now Graetz’s voice became louder, as well, as he struggled to be heard over the screaming children. Despite his rather small stature, the knacker approached the confused youth threateningly and reached for the knife hanging on his waistband. “Even a filthy knacker has a sense of decency,” he trumpeted. “You’re calling me a liar? Who the hell are you, anyway?”
“Uh, this is the son of the Schongau burgomaster,” Magdalena said, trying to calm him down as she rocked the two crying boys in her arms. “I’m sure we can clear this all up.”
“Then the son of the Schongau burgomaster should go back where he came from,” grumbled Graetz, only slightly mollified. “In any case, he’s not welcome here.”
Open-mouthed and trembling slightly, Sebastian Semer turned to his father. “Father, did you hear what this-”
Karl Semer waved him off angrily. Though he seemed about to explode, he managed to get control of himself. “Very well, hangman’s girl, we’ll leave,” he said softly. “But if I find your father anywhere in Andechs, I’ll have him arrested and interrogated on suspicion of breaking into the monastery and of blasphemy. And then we’ll see who’s more stubborn-the hangman from Schongau or the one from Weilheim. I’ve heard that Master Hans is a tough fellow. He’ll be glad to take on a colleague who’s been going around causing mischief dressed as a Franciscan monk.” Semer’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Who knows, perhaps your father even has something to do with the watchmaker’s corpse that was fished out of the well this morning.”
Magdalena looked at him, perplexed. “Virgilius’s corpse was found? But…”
The burgomaster chuckled. He clearly enjoyed seeing the self-confident young woman finally a bit unsettled.
“That’s the truth. Evidently, that damn apothecary burned him and then threw him in the well. The prior, who will probably soon be the new abbot, just told me about it. So the matter is clear.” Semer smiled maliciously. “Your father has been snooping around here in vain. This apothecary will be burned in Weilheim as a murderer, and we can soon all go about our business again.” He bowed stiffly. “And now I must really say goodbye before I get sick from the odor in here.” Turning up his nose, Karl Semer turned and beckoned to his son, who was still standing there alongside him, trembling with anger. “Come on, Sebastian, this is no place for people like us.”
Holding their heads high, the Semers left the knacker’s house with the two perplexed hunters as Magdalena and Michael Graetz watched silently.
“I’m afraid you owe me some explanation,” the knacker said once the footsteps had finally faded away. “Why isn’t your father here, when he clearly is here? And what is this matter with the fake Franciscan monk? I remember that I, in fact, saw someone in my house who looked like that.” He winked at Magdalena. “I don’t mind lying to these puffed-up old buzzards because they’ve offended our family, but I’d still like to know why that old show-off was so angry.”
“That’s… that’s a long story,” Magdalena sighed. “Let me put the children to bed; then I can probably explain a few things. In any event, it seems everything was all in vain. Now that Virgilius is dead, we can no longer count on the abbot’s help. And Nepomuk will be burned at the stake.”
She took the two boys into the bedroom, sang them a lullaby, then returned to the main room, where she sat down at the table beside the knacker.
“So…” she began hesitantly. “Where shall I begin?”
“Start with your father,” said Graetz. “What in the world is that stubborn old fool up to this time?”
Neither Magdalena nor Graetz noticed someone eavesdropping outside. When the man had heard what he wanted, he quietly slipped away through the hawthorn bushes.