“I never believed that Bartholomäus had anything to do with this sleep sponge,” he said, casting a sympathetic glance at the Bamberg executioner, who was sitting with folded arms at the far end of the table. “Well, at least we know now what killed the stag we discovered in the Bamberg Forest as we were coming to town, and also why some people say they’ve seen a monster out there.” He shook his head. “It was just a dog.”
“Believe me, you can’t think of it as just an ordinary dog.” Magdalena smiled grimly. “It’s more like a-” she started to say when her father interrupted her rudely.
“It’s a monster of a beast,” he growled, “as large as a calf and with long teeth. Even if it isn’t the werewolf we’re looking for, it’s still some sort of monster.”
“You don’t know Brutus,” Bartholomäus objected. “I raised him since he was a little pup. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, he’s just playing.”
“Damn it, that’s the last straw.” Jakob pounded the table with his fist and glared at his brother. “Your beloved Brutus probably killed two people, Bartl. If we didn’t have so many other problems now, I’d report you to the authorities.”
“You’d turn in your own brother?” he snarled. “That would be just like you.”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with snitching, you dumb yokel. We have to protect people from this beast. Now just shut your mouth before I do it for you.”
Simon sighed softly as he looked at the two brothers. Just a while ago it seemed they’d finally reconciled with each other. Magdalena had suggested that they were on speaking terms again, after their rehashing of events that had happened a long time ago. But evidently their enmity ran too deep.
“You mentioned before that there was a way we could help Matheo and Barbara,” said Simon, turning to his father-in-law to try to put an end to the awkward topic. “What was your plan?”
“Bah! That’s no plan, it’s a suicide mission,” Bartholomäus scoffed. Then he turned silent and leaned back on the bench, sulking.
Jakob cleared his throat, then briefly explained what he wanted to do. Simon and Georg listened silently while cold sweat poured down Simon’s back.
“You mean we’ll just pretend we’ve caught a werewolf?” Simon shook his head in disbelief. “Do you really think you can get away with that?”
“No, of course it’s not going to work,” Jakob growled, “because every damn one of you is so chickenhearted. God, if during the war, I had-”
“Let’s not get started about the war again, Father,” Magdalena interrupted. Then she turned to the family, trying to calm them down. “I know the plan sounds absurd at first, but it might succeed for just that reason. If we all work together.”
Simon frowned. “The bishop has invited me to the performance tonight. This Sebastian Harsee is a very distrustful man-he always looks at me with suspicion. If I don’t go-”
“Just stop worrying, you sissy. I have another job for you,” his father-in-law interrupted, “one where you won’t trip over your own feet or get any dirt on your fine clothes. You’re a friend of this Jewish quack, aren’t you? We need a few ingredients from him that Bartl doesn’t have in the house-poppy-seed oil, mandrake, henbane, and hemlock.”
Simon stopped short. “Henbane and hemlock? But they’re all-”
“Ingredients for a sleep sponge, right.” Kuisl nodded. “If the werewolf can use them, so can we. That way, we’ll get rid of the guards. The stuff isn’t very reliable. The men will just be dazed, and not for very long. Everything that happens will seem like a dream to them.” The hangman flashed a mischievous smile. “And let’s make sure it’s a real nightmare. Georg”-he turned to his son-“you go over to the furrier’s and see if you can get some cheap furs and skins.”
“Furs and skins, right.” Georg nodded hesitantly. “But why?”
“Don’t you get it?” Magdalena said, looking around impatiently. “Father and Uncle Bartholomäus are going to dress up like monsters so the guards will think a real werewolf is attacking them. Later, when they wake up, a large, dead wolf will be lying next to them. They’ll think it’s the real werewolf that had attacked them before.”
“And where are we going to find this wolf?” Simon wondered.
Magdalena pointed toward the door. “In the shed next door. A real beast that Aloysius caught in one of his traps. Rigor mortis will have set in already, but in their excitement the guards will never notice.” She winked at her uncle. “After all, they’d just been attacked by a ferocious werewolf.”
“Hold on just a moment.” Bartholomäus bent over the table with a threatening look in his eye. “Maybe I’ll give you the key to the dungeon, fine, but there’s no way I’m going to wrap myself up in a stinking animal hide.”
“Think of your darling little pets,” Jakob said in a grim tone. “You want to keep them, don’t you? So help us. It’s as simple as that.”
“Just stop this!” Magdalena looked at her father angrily, then turned to Bartholomäus and said in a conciliatory tone, “You’re doing it for Barbara. She is your niece, after all. Besides, you’ve said yourself you don’t want this werewolf trial. If we can present people with a dead werewolf, perhaps we can still stop this madness. Katharina would surely want the same thing.”
“Keep Katharina out of this. It’s bad enough that you bring me into it.” Bartholomäus bit his lip and seemed to be struggling. “Very well,” he finally said. “I’ll do it. But if anything goes wrong-”
“It’s not your fault,” his brother interrupted. “Understood.” He turned around to Simon. “Do you think you can talk your Jewish friend into giving us a few more ingredients?”
Simon thought for a moment. “It depends. What were you thinking of?”
“Brimstone, charcoal, and saltpeter.” Jakob grinned again. Despite his age, he sometimes seemed to Simon like a kid thinking up new tricks. “All three ingredients are used separately as medications,” the hangman explained with visible satisfaction, “but together they make up the most devilish stuff man has ever thought up: gunpowder. At the end, we want to give our werewolf a send-off that all of Bamberg will be talking about, don’t we?” He clapped his hands. “We don’t want to cover anything up. Besides, sulfur stinks so much, they’ll think the beast comes straight from hell. Matheo will get out of the dungeon, and no one will suspect my brother of having opened the door.”
Magdalena nodded. “So this is the way we’re going to distribute the work. Simon will get the necessary ingredients today from Doctor Samuel, Georg will go to the furrier for the furs and hides, and tomorrow night, Father, Uncle Bartholomäus, and I will sneak down to the dungeon in the old courthouse.”
Simon looked at his wife, confused. “Why you? I thought-”
“At first I wasn’t especially crazy about the idea, myself,” Jakob interrupted, “but Magdalena convinced me that she could perhaps distract some of the guards. We don’t know how many there are. If there are only two or three of them, Bartholomäus and I can manage, but if there are more, we’ll have a problem.”
“Damn it! If something goes wrong, you’ll all be hanged as heretics and devil worshippers,” Simon groaned. “Do you realize that?”
“I think they’d rather break us on the wheel and cut our guts out,” Jakob replied. “That’s what they used to do in Schongau. What do you think, Bartholomäus?”
His brother nodded. “They could also boil us in oil, which is what they sometimes do with warlocks and counterfeiters, but to do that they need a competent hangman. It will be hard to find one so quickly. Perhaps the Nuremberg executioner?”
“Just stop that,” Simon groaned. “That. . that’s dreadful.” He turned to his wife. “Magdalena, I won’t allow you to be part of this madness.”
But Magdalena just shrugged and turned away. “Oh, come, Simon. We’ve survived all sorts of adventures together. And besides, you forget that most of the guards will probably be down at Geyerswörth Castle. Nothing will happen.”