God knew she truly had enough of them.
When Magdalena had visited her the day before, Barbara had briefly pulled herself together and appeared strong, but after her sister left, she broke down sobbing again. Matheo, the first boy she really thought she loved, faced gruesome torture and execution-and if a miracle didn’t occur, it would be her own brother and uncle who killed him. By running away from her family, Barbara had tried to put pressure on her father. But was there anything at all he could do?
In her anger, she had first decided to seek shelter with the actors, but then it occurred to her that that was the first place Magdalena would come to look. After she’d wandered aimlessly for a while in the courtyard of the wedding house, the crippled Jeremias had offered to take her in. She knew it was only a matter of time before someone would find her here. She was almost relieved that it was Magdalena who came. She needed someone to whom she could pour out her heart. Old Jeremias was certainly a nice man, but he was no substitute for a real friend.
Barbara had already considered returning to the Bamberg executioner’s house, but there she would have felt even smaller and weaker than she did now. For a fifteen-year-old, this was all simply too much. But then she remembered Juliet from the other play by Shakespeare. The girl from the Capulet house had been only fourteen and, God knows, had gone through a lot more than Barbara had. So Barbara clenched her teeth and wiped away her tears.
Jeremias had been very kind to her. He’d let her sleep in his bed while he slept in the tavern’s pantry. From time to time he’d come over to her to try to cheer her up or bring her a soothing drink of lime-blossom tea, but she knew she couldn’t stay here forever.
Sooner or later she’d have to make a decision.
She knew she’d either have to return to her family or join the group of actors. Ever since Sir Malcolm had declared she had talent, she felt a constant restlessness inside her. Finally, she saw a real possibility of escaping the preordained life of a hangman’s daughter. She wouldn’t have to marry any filthy, stinking knacker or hangman’s apprentice while suffering in silence and bearing him a half dozen children. No. She’d see the world! This longing in her had grown stronger ever since she’d begun leafing through the dog-eared book of plays. Sometimes Barbara whispered some of the passages to herself, at first haltingly, then more and more fluently, until the florid language positively rolled off her tongue. Now, once again, she was reading some lines from King Lear that especially appealed to her.
Good my lord,
You have begot me, bred me, lov’d me; I
Return those duties back as are right fit.
Obey you, love you and most honour you.
“Ah, wonderful! That is music to my ears.”
Barbara looked up in embarrassment, expecting to see old Jeremias, but it was Sir Malcolm standing in the doorway with a wry look on his face. The haggard old director was so tall his head almost touched the ceiling. He bowed deeply.
“Didn’t I say you have talent? When I hear you read those lines, I think how right I was.” He opened his arms wide and looked up, as if the heavens had opened. “A star is born!”
Barbara frowned. She was embarrassed that Sir Malcolm had surprised her, and furthermore, it troubled her that the director had found her in Jeremias’s room. Who else knew about this place besides Jeremias and Magdalena? Perhaps her hiding place could not be kept secret much longer.
All the more important that I make up my mind soon.
“A star?” she asked finally. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Sir Malcolm sat down beside her on the bed and patted her on the knee. “Excuse me for just bursting in here. To tell you the truth, it was Markus who told me about your hiding place. He no doubt saw your sister coming in here yesterday. Rest assured, I’ll be as quiet as the grave. But now to something else. .” He paused briefly and smiled at her expectantly. “I have good news for you, Barbara.”
Barbara’s heart started to pound. “Matheo!” she burst out excitedly, jumping up from the bed. “Did they let him go?”
“Matheo? Ah, unfortunately not.” Malcolm at first seemed puzzled. “But you can be sure we all are praying very hard for the young man. No, no, the news actually concerns you.”
Barbara slumped over again. “What do you mean?” she asked in a soft voice.
Malcolm nodded excitedly. “I have the great pleasure of informing you that you will soon be given a very important role to play in Sir Malcolm’s theatrical group. You will be playing no less than the beautiful Violandra in the extremely popular comedy Peter Squenz. So what do you say about that?”
It took Barbara a moment to catch her breath. “I’ll be playing in one of your pieces here in Bamberg?” she finally managed to say. “But. . but I’ve never done anything like that.”
Sir Malcolm demurred. “Everyone begins somewhere. Besides, you have talent, as you’ve just proved again.” He hesitated. “Ah, in addition, women’s roles are difficult to fill. Most men are too large or too fat. And after the regrettable loss of Matheo-”
“Stop right there,” Barbara interrupted angrily. “You want me to take Matheo’s role? Never! Who do you think I am? That would make it seem like I’m happy he’s wasting away in a dungeon.”
“Believe me, Barbara, this is what poor Matheo would want you to do. I’m absolutely sure of that.” Sir Malcolm nodded with a sad, earnest look. “Unfortunately, the bishop did not accept my suggestion to simply banish Guiscard’s miserable group of jugglers from the city. Instead, His Excellency decided to hold a contest between our two groups.” As Malcolm briefly described the bishop’s plan, Barbara turned paler and paler.
“If we lose, we’ll have to spend the winter somewhere outside the city,” the director concluded, nervously patting Barbara’s thigh with his long, sinewy fingers. “A lot depends on you now, as I have no one else in the group to assume the female part.”
“Do you mean. . I’m to play in front of two bishops in that palace down by the river?” Barbara asked in a toneless voice. “On a real stage before all those noble ladies and gentlemen?”
“Well, at least it’s not a public performance, so you won’t have to be afraid someone from your family will recognize you and drag you off the stage.”
Barbara took a deep breath. “And when will this contest take place?”
Sir Malcolm cleared his throat, embarrassed. “Uh. . tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow? But I don’t even know the play yet, much less my part. How can I do that?”
“Oh, there’s no magic to it. Just keep thinking of Cordelia’s noble words in King Lear.” Sir Malcolm rose to his feet and pressed his hand dramatically to his chest as he declaimed in a loud, majestic voice.
“We are not the first who, with best meaning, have incurr’d the worst.”
Then he hobbled hastily to the door. “If you would be so kind, follow me into the hall, and we’ll begin the rehearsal at once.”
“Gentlemen, the meeting has come to order.”
Suffragan Bishop Harsee tapped his gavel on the polished oak table and looked around as the last of the murmured conversations died away.
Simon sat with Master Samuel at the far end of the large, oval table in the council room of the old courthouse. One after the other, the Schongau medicus and bathhouse owner scrutinized the faces of the honorable council members, who appeared gray and anxious. In contrast with the last meeting, the mood now was not aggressive, but gloomy. No one shouted, and all of them-the Jesuits, the scholars, the chancellor, and the dean of the cathedral-stared at the Bamberg suffragan bishop as if he alone could bring them salvation.