As usual, Jakob Kuisl was fascinated to see all the ways a dead body could be put to use. The horsehair was used to fill mattresses, or to make sieves and cheap wigs; the hooves and horns were ground into a powder and spread over the fields as fertilizer; and the boiled, foul-smelling fat was used in making expensive, sweet-smelling soap.
We turn garbage into gold, he thought, and they pay us with rusty pennies.
There was actually no reason for Jakob to return to the Bamberg Forest that day, though he was curious to find out about this so-called beast. Even more, though, he had been driven by his longing for his son, whom he hoped to find here. He and Georg had never talked much with each other, yet there was an affinity between them that had not faded away over the years. Despite the great distance between them, Jakob had always felt close to his son, so the quarrel the other day had disturbed him more than he even admitted to himself. What was it, again, that Georg had said?
You just can’t bear the fact that your brother is more successful than you are. .
Is that what it was? Was he really jealous of his younger brother, the one he’d despised so much back then-little Bartl, the slower-witted of the two brothers, who’d looked at every torture as an interesting experiment and had always gotten along better with animals than with people?
Or does reuniting with him remind me of the guilt I can never wash away?
A foul smell stung his nose. When he turned around, he saw his son, Georg, along with Bartholomäus, stirring a large steaming kettle of lye that hung over a fireplace in front of the knacker’s house. The one-story blockhouse was solidly built and the size of a small but formidable castle. In addition, there were a few sheds, a dog kennel, and a smoking coal pile. Taken together, the buildings formed a defensive area surrounded by fences and thorny hedges, standing in a large clearing in the middle of the forest.
“Well, what do you think of my dogs?” With a slight limp in his gait, Bartholomäus walked over to his elder brother and pointed proudly at the hunting dogs, who were yelping and panting as they fought among themselves for the last scraps of food. “It took forever to train them, but they’re fast and untiring, and they do everything I tell them. They’re the best hunting dogs anywhere.”
Jakob frowned. “And you, a hangman, go hunting?”
Bartholomäus laughed and waved dismissively. “Of course not. I only train them for the Bamberg prince-bishop. He’s crazy about dogs and other animals. His Excellency is very happy with me, above all because I tend to his beloved menagerie. I feed the bears there and clean out the cages.” He grinned and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. “His Excellency pays me quite well for my work. In a few more years, perhaps I’ll buy a larger house somewhere near the Green Market.”
“Just be careful then that the people don’t set your expensive house on fire,” Jakob warned him. “People don’t like it when dishonorable folks like us come into money and become their equals.”
“Maybe in Schongau, but things are different in Bamberg.” Bartholomäus pointed at Georg, who was still standing at the boiling kettle and stirring it with a long stick. “Ask your son. He likes the way he’s treated here.” A faint smile passed over his lips. “And your daughter Barbara would no doubt like it here, too.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well. .” Bartholomäus paused for a moment, then nodded in the direction of Aloysius, who was standing in the kennel surrounded by the dogs. The knacker was wearing a long leather jacket smeared with blood and dirt, and a glove on one hand that one of the dogs had just sunk its teeth into. “Aloysius has been looking for a wife for a long time,” Bartholomäus continued in a soft voice. “He isn’t the handsomest fellow in the world, but as the Bamberg knacker and hangman’s journeyman, he makes a good living. In addition, he’s loyal and reliable. When I’m not here, he does all the work of the knacker by himself here in the forest-flaying, grinding bones, caring for the dogs. . A little feminine companionship would be good for him.”
Jakob laughed loudly. “You don’t know my daughter, Bartl. She’s got a mind of her own. Years ago I tried to marry off Magdalena to my cousin in Steingaden, but she couldn’t be talked out of marrying her Simon.”
Bartholomäus shrugged. “Just think it over. Other hangmen’s daughters would love to have an offer like this.”
“It’s enough for you to try to change Georg,” Jakob grumbled. “For heaven’s sake, stay away from Barbara. We’re here to celebrate a wedding, and then everyone will go their own ways. That’s what we agreed to.” Jakob turned around, but his brother’s sharp voice held him back.
“That’s what you do best, isn’t it, Jakob? Go your own way, and not concern yourself with others.”
“How dare you. .,” Jakob flared up, but at that moment Aloysius approached with another bucket of fresh guts. The knacker, whose face was scarred by pockmarks, greeted them with a brief nod.
“I’m going out back, master,” he mumbled into his stubby beard. It was clear he was missing some teeth.
“Do that,” Bartholomäus replied, “and remember the bishop needs the mastiffs tomorrow for his bear hunt, so wash and comb their fur, so they don’t embarrass us.”
Aloysius grinned. “Very well, master. They’ll shine like bridled white horses.” Humming a tune, he disappeared behind the shed.
“Do you have more dogs?” Jakob asked.
Bartholomäus looked at him, puzzled. “What makes you think that?”
“Well, Aloysius won’t be eating the entrails in the pail himself, will he?”
His brother laughed loudly, and Jakob thought he briefly detected a nervous twitch around his mouth.
“Hah! My apprentice will eat any damn thing and is a bit strange, but he doesn’t go that far,” Bartholomäus said in a raspy voice. “No, those are the stinking remains of the carcass. We’ve dug a hole behind the house, six feet deep, where we bury the garbage, on orders from the bishop. We can’t leave anything lying around here. The noble gentlemen have a fear of poison vapors.”
He pointed at the large blockhouse and the buildings standing around it, all apparently new. “The animals in the forest, especially his hunting dogs, are extremely important to the bishop; that’s why he had this large house built here. Before the war, the house of the bishop’s master of the hunt stood nearby, but now it’s just a ruin with the wind whistling through it. People say it’s haunted. Well, at least stories like that scare poachers away.” Bartholomäus grinned. “The bishop’s new master of the hunt prefers to live in the luxurious canon’s quarters, and I can do as I please here.”
“As you please. .” Jakob nodded. “I see.” He looked over at his son, who was scooping fat from the kettle. “How much longer do you need Georg today?” he asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. “The womenfolk in my family are going to the theater to watch those silly people prancing, dancing, and singing. That’s not for me. I thought that Georg and I might perhaps go for a stroll in the forest. .”
“He’ll surely be busy for a while with the boiling, and the leather needs to be sent to the tanner today. I’m afraid there’s no time.” Bartholomäus forced a thin smile. “But feel free to ask him if he wants to talk with his father later on about the good old days.”
Jakob was about to offer a blunt response, but then he waved his hand wearily.