He had to remove everything down there secretly. But how? Brothers Eckhart and Benedikt were watching him like hawks; he could feel their eyes burning into him. Never would they allow him to destroy their life’s work.
After wandering for hours through the rock-strewn Kien Valley, Laurentius finally had an idea and found another secret entrance. God Himself seemed to be handing him the key to atone for his crimes. Lying in the hospital bed now, he never thought he would have to pay in this way, with so much pain. Laurentius had passed through all the rings of Dante’s inferno and experienced every type of pain, but perhaps things would work out now.
He was awakened by an unfamiliar sound and listened attentively, but all he could hear through the bandages were muffled sounds, then silence. Suddenly a hand clamped down over his mouth and nose, pushing him gently but relentlessly into the pillows.
“Mmmmmmm…” Laurentius tried to seize his attacker with his bandaged fingers, but he was too weak; all he could manage was a feeble twitch. The strong hand remained on his face, blocking his air, smothering him. He had to breathe, he simply had to breathe, but he was immobilized, wrapped in dozens of blankets. He couldn’t speak or hear or see anything-just this hand over his face that wouldn’t let go. Quivering and thrashing about, he was finally able to grab the end of a sheet and clutch it tightly, tugging at it until the material ripped, leaving only a scrap of cloth in his hand. He could feel every fiber of the soft sheet, smooth and firm like a woven tapestry or a freshly fluffed pillow. Memories of his childhood looped through his mind: his mother, his first days as a novitiate.
As he slowly sank into a soft darkness, the urge to breathe subsided, giving way to a feeling of unbelievable relief. Laurentius realized he was dying.
This time he wouldn’t wake up.
The murderer arose, passed his hand almost lovingly over the bandaged face, then turned toward the medicus still sunk down on his chair, dreaming of beautiful things with a blissful smile on his lips.
Hesitantly the man passed his hand over the medicus’s soiled jacket, up to the expensive but somewhat worn lace collar, and over his cleanly clipped goatee. All it would take was some gentle pressure, a small cut with a knife, and he would have dispensed with one more of the master’s problems.
But he couldn’t.
As he lowered his arms with a soft sigh, he noticed the little book on the floor in front of him. He picked it up, began leafing through it, and quickly realized what it was.
This would surely interest the master.
Hastily he put the book in his pocket and disappeared as silently as he’d come. He could still hear Simon snoring as he turned the next corner.
“And you really don’t know where your father is now?” Michael Graetz stared at Magdalena in disbelief. During the last half-hour she’d told him all that had happened in the monastery up to that point. She told him also about Kuisl’s friend Nepomuk and her father’s plan to prove his innocence. Graetz had listened in astonishment, shaking his head from time to time, while the children slept on peacefully in the next room.
“I really have no idea where he is,” Magdalena replied. “Perhaps he learned something in the monastery and the sorcerer got hold of him.”
“Your father?” The knacker laughed. “If half the stories I’ve heard about him are true, this sorcerer can count himself lucky if he leaves the Holy Mountain in one piece. But we’ve got to go and look for him,” he added, suddenly turning serious. “And you’ve got to tell Simon, too, before he starts getting worried.”
“Simon?” Magdalena sneered. “With all his work, he doesn’t even notice when I’m standing right in front of him, and he evidently doesn’t care for his children, either. I’m sick and tired of him.”
“You mustn’t be so tough on him,” Michael Graetz said. “My Ani, God rest her soul, always complained, too, when I disappeared for a few days. Believe me, girl, that’s the way we men are. We crawl into a hole in the ground and then can’t find our way out until someone comes and gives us a hand.”
Magdalena couldn’t resist a smile. “Maybe you’re right, but you men don’t make it easy for us.”
A soft whine came from the next room, but then the sound died away just as quickly.
“What happened to your own children?” asked Magdalena in the silence that followed. “Have they all grown up and moved out?”
Graetz shrugged. “Most of them died early; only Hans and Lisl lived to see their tenth summer, but Lisl died of the Plague a few years back, and Hans became a drummer boy for a group of dragoons and went off to war.” He sighed. “Since the death of my wife, all I have left is Matthias; he’s something like a son to me.”
“You certainly scold him as if he were your own.” Magdalena grinned. “A strapping young fellow. If I wasn’t already married I could easily fall for him.”
“Then you’d have a husband who wouldn’t talk back.” Graetz stood up abruptly and wiped his hands on his apron. “But now I’ve got to go help Matthias with the work, and you really should go back to Simon and put an end to your quarrel. Save your arguments for later. You have a lot more important things to talk about now, and in the meantime, I’ll keep an eye on the children.” He stopped to think for a moment. “If your father still doesn’t show up today, let me know. Matthias and I know some people in the village we can trust, and we can go out to look for him together. I may be a dishonorable knacker, but I won’t abandon my family.”
“Thank you, Michael, I know that.” Magdalena smiled, squeezing his hand. Suddenly she felt ashamed for having said earlier that her children would become something better.
After a final nod, she turned toward the door and hurried down the narrow path toward the monastery, a huge black silhouette now in the setting sun. Magdalena quickened her steps to reach the clinic before nightfall. The shadows of the trees lining the path seemed to reach out to seize her, and she kept looking about anxiously as she ran up the mountain. Finally she arrived, breathless, at the outer walls of the monastery.
She felt somewhat safer here among the exhausted pilgrims arriving at the monastery and seeking a place to spend the night. The next day, for the Festival of the Three Hosts, there would be more happening at the Holy Mountain than all the rest of the year combined. A feeling of joyful expectation was already in the air, mixing with the aromas of fresh-baked bread and meat roasting on the fire. Some merchants had started setting up stands along the monastery walls, and another group of pilgrims bearing torches came up from the Kien Valley.
As Magdalena passed through the outer portal and turned toward the clinic, she felt someone approaching her from behind. She hadn’t heard a sound-it was more a feeling, a slight twinge in her shoulders. She turned quickly in the narrow lane, but it was already too late.
Hairy hands covered her mouth and dragged her between two dilapidated sheds. She struggled to scream, but the stranger’s grip was too strong. Finally she was able to bite her attacker on the finger.
“Ouch,” said a familiar deep voice. “How dare you bite your own flesh and blood, you viper.”
“For God’s sake, Father,” Magdalena scolded, relaxing a bit as Kuisl cursed and released her. “Why do you have to scare me like that? Couldn’t you have just said ‘good day’ like any other reasonable person?”
“While you run around shouting and drawing attention? Stop talking nonsense. In any case, I’m-”
“Wanted,” Magdalena interrupted her father. “I know. Semer can’t wait to get his hands on you.”
“Semer?” Kuisl sucked on his bloody finger. “What do you know about Semer?”
The hangman was wearing ripped trousers, a simple black jacket, and an old coat that Magdalena had known since childhood. She had to smile when she thought of her father in the threadbare Franciscan robe. With his large frame, he would really have made a good monk.