“But you took Georg as your journeyman,” Jakob replied in a muted voice. “I thank you for that, Bartl, even if you cannot forget.”
“Do you know what I always asked myself?” Bartholomäus said after a while. He pulled his trouser leg down again and sat beside his brother. “Why did you go back to being a hangman? Why did you come back to Schongau, instead of staying with the troops? From everything I’ve heard, the Steingaden executioner did a good job standing in for you while you were gone.”
Jakob stared up into the treetops, as if he might find the answer there.
“I found the woman I loved,” he said finally, “and war is an unending, bloody business, no place for small, crying children. I needed a place where I could stay and support my family.” He looked at his brother sadly. “And the only thing we Kuisls ever learned was killing. We’re masters at that. If people have to be killed, it should at least be done by people who can do it in the best and most painless way. That’s what the war taught me.”
Jakob took a deep breath. Now that it was all in the open, it was as if a great storm had finally passed.
“And Georg knows everything?” he asked.
“Everything.” Bartholomäus nodded. “I told him last year. It seemed to shake him up a lot.” Then he smiled. “Evidently it’s in our blood that in our family we have to disappoint one another, again and again.”
A great stillness came over the clearing; from far off, the sound of a cuckoo could be heard. Magdalena was silent as well. Her father, who had always seemed so big and strong to her, now appeared very old and vulnerable. He sat on the woodpile, a cold pipe in his mouth, gray and stiff as a weathered tombstone. And at that moment she felt a love for him stronger than anything she’d ever felt before.
“You. . you have not disappointed me, Father,” she said softly. “On the contrary. But it’s good that-”
She winced when she suddenly heard a deep growl from the shed just beside her.
“For heaven’s sake, what was that?” she asked anxiously.
Her father smiled wearily. “That’s an alaunt, or rather two of them. Your uncle’s pets.” He sighed and began filling his pipe. “I’m afraid we’ll have to put aside the old family matters, at least for the time being. There’s a whole lot of catching up to do.”
A while later, Magdalena was sitting between her father and her uncle on the wet woodpile, going over in her mind everything she had just heard. She kept looking at the shed, where growling and occasional scraping and scratching could be heard against the wooden wall.
“Well, at least we probably know now what the wild animal was that killed the stag, the one Simon and the boys found in the forest the day we arrived,” she finally said. “Let’s hope this animal wasn’t responsible for killing a few people, as well. In any case, it probably isn’t the werewolf we’re looking for.”
Bartholomäus sighed. “I don’t understand why Brutus didn’t come back. He has everything he needs here.” Now that the conversation was no longer about the family but only about his runaway dog and the werewolf, he had calmed down. It looked like the two Kuisl brothers had declared a truce, at least for the time being.
“I can do without your beloved pet for now,” Jakob responded grimly, puffing on his pipe, from which little clouds of smoke rose heavenward. “I only had a glimpse of him, but that was enough for me. The beast is as big as a calf.”
“Bigger.” His brother grinned. “The three alaunts eat half a horse between them every day.” Suddenly he paused and raised an eyebrow. “Ah, that’s something that might interest you. A few wolf pelts were found in Matheo’s possessions, weren’t they?”
“And what about it?” Magdalena asked.
“Well, yesterday a whole bunch of pelts were stolen from the knacker’s house-everything we’d made from a few weeks of slaughtering. Hides of horses, cows, but also a stag, a few dog hides, and even an old bearskin full of holes.”
“I knew it!” Jakob smacked his forehead. “It was that stranger hanging around the furrier’s. That son of a bitch bought the wolf pelts and was using them in town. And when things got too hot for him, he hid the pelts in Matheo’s room. .”
“And he came here to the knacker’s house to get new ones,” Magdalena added. She nodded, thinking it over. “It certainly could have happened like that. But why did he do it, and above all, who was it-we don’t have the vaguest idea about that.” She sighed. “And as long as we don’t have any culprit to present to the bishop, more people will have to die, and not just Matheo.”
She briefly told her uncle and her father about the mob down at the river and the poor peddler who had probably already drowned.
“I’m afraid this is only the beginning,” Magdalena concluded. “It will be just as it was in the witch trials. Then, too, there were hundreds of victims before things finally settled down. The executioner really had his hands full.”
“If you think I’d dirty my hands with this, you’re wrong,” Bartholomäus chimed in angrily. “I know that the victims in these trials are usually innocent. That’s nothing a hangman ever wants to do, even if he makes good money at it.” He wiped his mouth nervously. “The previous Bamberg executioner went crazy-from guilt, it was said. He walked off into the forest and no one ever saw him again. I took his place, but only after it was all over.” Bartholomäus looked at his brother and Magdalena in despair. “Believe me, I wouldn’t do that. Three times I’ve hanged convicted thieves, I’ve tortured a confession out of a man who robbed a church offertory box, and I’ve broken an arsonist on the wheel-that I can do. But a wild-goose chase like this. .” His voice failed him. “Well. . I suppose I’d have to. Jakob, you know yourself what happens to hangmen who can’t perform. They wind up swinging from a tree themselves.”
Jakob nodded. “True, that’s our job. People are always glad to find someone to do the dirty work for them.”
“Then help us find the real culprit,” Magdalena urged her uncle. “Perhaps we can still stop this madness.”
Bartholomäus gave a despairing laugh. “Nobody can stop the madness-not once it has started. They have their first werewolf, this Matheo, and you can be sure I’ll torture a hair-raising confession out of him. The suffragan bishop will badger him and torment him until he turns into a real, howling werewolf.”
“A real werewolf. .” Jakob Kuisl took another deep drag on his pipe and sent a few smoke rings up into the autumn sky. His forehead was deeply furrowed, as it always was when he was thinking hard. “A real werewolf. . Of course. We need a real werewolf,” he murmured.
Magdalena looked at him, puzzled. “What are you saying?”
A small smoke ring pushed its way up through a larger one as Jakob’s face broke out in a broad smile. “Yes, that might work,” he finally said, mostly to himself.
“For God’s sake, what are you talking about?” his brother scolded. “That’s one thing I’ve always hated about you-this constant, arrogant secretiveness.”
Magdalena sighed. Just like her uncle, and Simon, too, she hated it when her father tortured her like this. “Now come on, spit it out,” she demanded. “What are you going to do?”
“If we want this madness to stop, we’ve got to present a real werewolf to the people,” he replied calmly. “Then they’ll be happy, and the pursuit will perhaps come to an end.”
“A real werewolf?” Magdalena stopped short. She’d hoped her father would find a way out, but now she was more confused than ever. “And who would that werewolf be?” she asked gruffly.
“Matheo.”
“Matheo?” Magdalena shook her head in horror. “Have you lost your mind? People already think the poor fellow is the werewolf. Barbara will never come back to us if-”
“For God’s sake, let me explain, you cheeky little madam,” Jakob cut in angrily. “Yes, we’ll rescue Matheo from the dungeon, but we’ll make it look like he changed himself back into a werewolf-with fire, and brimstone, and thunder, and all that. Matheo will disappear, and all that will remain in the cell is the wolf. A dead one, that is. The werewolf everyone was looking for died in the dungeon, killed by the incense and all the prayers. And the hunt will be over.” Grinning, he pointed behind him, where Aloysius was still busy flaying the dead cow. “Your servant trapped a few wolves in the forest just yesterday. One is enough for our little trick. It just has to be big.” Jakob looked around, waiting for everyone’s reactions. “Well, what do you think?”