Simon nodded. “The infection must have come from this bite in his neck. All the symptoms point in that direction. The victim, whether animal or human, becomes very aggressive, and then there is paralysis and hardening of the muscles, and the victim loses the ability to swallow, resulting in a buildup of saliva. At the end, the victim goes mad.” He leaned down to Sebastian Harsee, who struggled to sit up as if he were restrained by invisible chains. “Eventually the victim dies of thirst,” Simon added. “In the case of dogs, even the sight of liquid is painful. That’s probably how it works with humans, as well.”
Simon watched sadly as the suffragan bishop lay there quivering. He’d known Sebastian Harsee as a power-hungry and almost pathologically bigoted man, but now he felt great sympathy for him.
I wouldn’t wish such an illness on my worst enemy-buried alive as you’re slowly eviscerated by madness from within.
“It’s all described in great detail in my uncle’s books,” he said, shaking his head. “That is, in various aspects and in several books, in a bombastic prose style. But I should have recognized it earlier.”
“That wouldn’t have changed anything,” Samuel replied with a shrug. “As far as I know, there is no cure for rabies.”
Simon frowned. “Well, some scholars recommend a Saint Hubertus key, a sort of branding iron in the shape of a key that is heated until it glows and can be used to cauterize the wound. Others believe in the power of certain magical letters. But that is no doubt just hocus-pocus. You’re right, there probably is no cure.”
Once again, Samuel leaned down over the patient, who was now just trembling slightly. Taking out an eyeglass, he checked the wound.
“The bite is rather small,” he said. “It certainly wasn’t caused by a wolf or a dog, and even a fox is too big. Was it perhaps a rat?”
Simon mulled it all over, inwardly cursing himself. Would they never get to the bottom of this?
“It’s possible,” he replied after a while. “I think I recall that bats were also mentioned in the books. But I’ll have to check on that. Still. . there’s still something here I can’t quite put my finger on. .” He hesitated.
Samuel rolled his eyes. “Don’t start in again with this pussyfooting around, just speak up.”
With his hands folded behind his back, Simon paced the floor, trying to get his thoughts together. Finally, he turned to Samuel.
“It’s a strange coincidence that all of Bamberg is going crazy because of a werewolf at the very moment the Bamberg suffragan bishop catches rabies-which, in the eyes of simple people, makes him a werewolf, too. If this was a stage play, then you could say the playwright tied it up a bit too neatly.”
“Do you think, perhaps, this illness was a plot?” Samuel asked in astonishment. “That Harsee was poisoned?”
Simon nodded. “Poisoned with one of the most horrible plagues that exist. It’s possible. Didn’t Harsee tell you he had probably been bitten in his sleep? Suppose someone hid a rabid rat in his room. . or a bat?”
Once more Samuel inspected the wound with a magnifying glass. “I don’t know,” he murmured finally. “I’ve seen rat bites before, and they’re smaller. And even though I’ve never seen a bat bite, I think that’s also out of the question.”
“It really doesn’t matter what kind of an animal it was,” Simon replied. “At least now we know-”
There was a knock on the door, and old Agathe peered out through the opening. She seemed quite excited.
“Gentlemen,” she said.
“What is it?” Samuel demanded angrily. “Can’t you see we’re busy?”
“You have a visitor,” she replied. “A very important visitor.” “Well, who is it?” Simon asked. “One of the councilors?”
Agathe shook her head. “No, no, much more important. His Excellency the elector, the bishop of Würzburg, is standing downstairs at the door! Oh God, oh God,” she exclaimed, rubbing her hands together nervously. “He says he would like to speak with both of you.”
Simon took a deep breath, smoothed down his hair, and passed his hands several times over the creases in his soiled clothing.
“I’m afraid it’s rude to keep His Excellency the elector waiting longer than necessary,” he said, turning to Samuel. Then he sighed deeply. “Why must such noble personages always come to visit when I am not properly attired?”
About half an hour later, Simon, Samuel, and Archbishop Johann Philipp von Schönborn stood in the small chapel of the suffragan bishop’s quarters. The chapel had three rows of pews and a simple house altar with a single wooden crucifix on top, alongside a vase of dried roses and a statuette of Mary.
The sacral surroundings made it easier for Simon to engage in conversation with the archbishop, who was also a German elector and a friend of the kaiser. Old Bonifaz Fronwieser had always hoped his son would rise to a prominent position as a doctor, and now Simon was meeting face-to-face not only with mayors and counts but even with one of the mightiest men in the Empire.
If only my father were here to see this, he thought. How proud he would be of me. But in the next moment he suddenly felt ashamed of his vanity.
Johann Philipp von Schönborn turned out to be an exceptionally cordial gentleman. Samuel had told Simon earlier that the Würzburg bishop was inclined to liberal ideas and abhorred belief in witches. The seizure suffered by Sebastian Harsee the day before had unsettled him so much, however, that he wanted to speak with the two doctors again. His bodyguards waited outside on the walkway in front of the chapel, rattling their swords and halberds. Trembling, Agathe entered with a carafe of wine but was politely dismissed by the bishop.
“I hope you know how it reassures me that this matter can be explained logically,” Schönborn said, reaching out to shake hands with the astonished Simon. “I was beginning to think I’d lost my mind. Thank you for that.”
Embarrassed, Simon made a cursory bow. “I hope your thanks are not premature, Your Excellency. It’s just a suspicion-”
“A suspicion based on a careful diagnosis,” Samuel interrupted with a smile. “Don’t hide your light under a bushel, Simon,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m just annoyed I didn’t think of it myself. Rabies. I should have known.”
At the victim’s bedside, Simon had told the archbishop of his suspicion that Harsee was suffering from the contagious animal disease. At first he had hesitated to mention his further suspicion that the suffragan bishop had been poisoned, but Schönborn’s friendly manner had convinced him not to withhold that detail.
“And you really believe that the disappearance of all these people and the bishop’s rabies are somehow connected?” Schönborn asked with interest. “That they could both be the work of one and the same person?”
Simon raised his hands defensively. “Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. I have no proof, but it seems at least more logical to me than belief in a howling werewolf. I believe, in any case, it was hasty to immediately suspect the actors.”
“But they were not just suspected-a few were already killed and hanged.” Schönborn pounded his fist so hard on the altar that the crucifix quivered. “This superstitious riffraff really believe they can set themselves up as judges. And the judge actually responsible in this case is not much better.” He lowered his voice. “Our dear Philipp may know his way around animals, but he wasn’t born with the gift of dealing with people. Unfortunately, a bishop’s position is not awarded based on suitability but only on noble lineage. One can only hope that Philipp grows into his position.” He sighed and collapsed into one of the pews. “On the other hand, he’s at least harmless and not a zealot like Harsee-or like the former Bamberg prince-bishop, Fuchs von Dornheim, under whom those terrible witch trials took place.”
“Is it true there are no witch trials under your jurisdiction?” Samuel asked.