“Mmm, pastry, delicious. I like it most of all with lingonberries.” The ragpicker licked his lips. The sight of the corpse, and the foul stench rising from the tub despite the cool river water, seemed not to trouble him. He looked at Jakob curiously as he climbed down a slippery ladder to the tub and tugged at the corpse’s overcoat until the body finally turned over on its back. Cold eyes, like those of a dead fish, stared up at the hangmen.
Jakob cringed. The dead man was at least seventy years old, his gray hair curled in the water like seaweed, and the skin was white and bloated. His trousers, jacket, and shirt were in shreds, his right hand was missing, and Jakob could see that the fish and crabs had already started nibbling on the body. But that wasn’t what horrified him so much.
It was the signs of torture visible all over the man.
He couldn’t help but think of the woman’s leg he had examined in the guard station, which had also showed evidence of torture. Bartholomäus, standing on the dock alongside him, seemed also to have noticed the wounds. He gasped, sucking the air in through his teeth.
“Good Lord, all kinds of torture were used on this person,” he said, nodding partly in disgust and partly in recognition. “His fingernails were pulled out, there are burn marks on his torso, both legs are missing, an arm wrenched out. Whoever did this knows how to inflict pain. Do you think they chopped his hand off while he was still alive?”
Answin laughed softly. “I have to admit, at first I thought you were the one who did it,” he said, turning to Bartholomäus. “It looks a hell of a lot like the work of an executioner, and the only one I know is you.”
“The work of an executioner, indeed.” It was the first time Jakob had spoken. Carefully, he unbuttoned the dead man’s shirt, trying not to think about the sickly sweet, fishy odor.
“It’s hard to say how long he’s been in the water,” he mumbled, thinking it over. “But judging from the decomposition, it can’t have been very long. I don’t see any clear cause of death-it’s possible he simply died as a result of the torture.” Gently, he began removing the man’s overcoat. The shirt underneath was in shreds.
“Look at this,” Bartholomäus said suddenly, pointing. “The welts on his back. They come from a leather whip, without question. People call that the Bamberg torture, because it’s mainly used here.” He shrugged. “I myself prefer to hang the bastards up by their wrists, tie stones to their feet, then hoist them up. That’s the old way.”
“So our werewolf is a real expert,” Jakob said softly. “Where do you think he learned that?”
“Well in any case, he had a lot of practice,” Bartholomäus replied. “If this madman is responsible for all the missing and the dead, this here would be his seventh victim. How many are yet to follow?”
Jakob turned away from the horribly mangled corpse and looked at Answin.
“Exactly where did you find this body?” he asked.
The ragpicker scratched his nose. “This one got tangled in the waterwheel of a paper mill.” He pointed to the north. “You know, the mill on the right branch of the Regnitz not far from St. Gangolf, outside the city walls.”
“Aha! I thought it had come ashore here on the left branch of the river,” Bartholomäus chimed in.
“No, it didn’t, and it surprised me, too, because most of the corpses have been found on the left branch, where there are far more mills for them to get caught in.”
“Hmm.” Jakob frowned. “That means the perpetrator dumped the body outside the city, somewhere along the right branch of the river. But why did he do that? After all, according to the servant, Thadäus Vasold was attacked by the werewolf in the middle of town. That’s what Simon told me. So this monster took him out of Bamberg. Why?”
Again, Jakob turned to the ragpicker. “Didn’t you find any other parts of the corpse in the water?”
Answin shook his head. “Only a leg and an arm. The second leg was lying in a huge pile of garbage near the river. Some children found it while they were playing.”
“If it was so near the river, it’s possible it was in the water earlier and some dog picked it up and took it there.” Kuisl ground his teeth, thinking. “Where did you find the arm and the leg?”
Answin pointed to the north again and the right branch of the river. “They were entangled in the pillars of the bridge. There are a few shallow places and islands in the middle of the river, where it’s easy for things to get hung up. I told the guards right away.” He picked at his teeth, looking bored. “But there wasn’t much to see-clearly, animals had been chewing on them, and limbs had been ripped off, probably by wolves or who knows what.”
Jakob poked at the corpse one last time, and it turned around slowly in the water. Then he climbed up the ladder again to the pier.
“First, a few body parts, and now a torso,” he said when he got back up on the dock, “and all of them found in the north branch of the river. Somebody must have disposed of them there, then the fish and other animals did the rest.” He nodded, still lost in his thoughts. “I myself have also fished people out of the Lech who committed suicide. If they get tangled in the weirs or are found by wild animals, it can easily happen that only parts of those poor souls are ever found. There’s nothing magical about that.”
“You’re forgetting the victim’s hand.” Bartholomäus pointed down at the corpse again. “I heard that was found in front of widow Gotzendörfer’s house, so clearly the hand didn’t come from the water. And didn’t you find an arm in Bamberg Forest when you were coming to town?”
“That was on the bank of a smaller river. The whole area there is crisscrossed by brooks and rivers, as far as I can see, so it’s possible the arm was dumped somewhere else and drifted there.”
“And Vasold’s hand in front of widow Gotzendörfer’s house?”
Jakob spat into the dark water. “If you ask me, somebody intentionally put it there to cause a panic. And they succeeded.”
Bartholomäus frowned. “But who would do something like that? And why?” He kicked a rotted post. “Damn it, this all reminds me of the witch trials back then. I didn’t arrive here until just after the old hangman’s sudden disappearance, but according to what I heard, everybody was afraid, just like now.”
“Just like now. .” Jakob stared into the distance with a furrowed brow. “Just like now,” he repeated.
He was about to say something else when the sound of marching feet was heard coming down one of the side streets, and moments later about a half dozen city guards appeared. At the head of the group was the commander of the guard, Martin Lebrecht, who looked even more bleary-eyed than the last time they’d met, in the guard station. When he recognized the two hangmen, he stopped, surprised, and removed his helmet.
“Master Bartholomäus,” he said with annoyance. “What are you doing here?”
“Ah, I was just about to ask Answin if he could help me and my brother clean the moat,” he replied a bit awkwardly. “And now he’s shown me his latest find.” He pointed at the corpse behind him. “You’ll be sad to learn that it’s the body of city councilor Thadäus Vasold. He’s clearly recognizable.”
“Damn it! As if I didn’t already have enough to do.” The captain closed his eyes briefly, as if struggling to get a hold of himself. “Answin already suggested to me that that might be the case, and I must admit I suspected we would eventually find Vasold’s corpse-especially since his hand was found early this morning.”
“I thought you would’ve come a lot sooner,” grumbled Answin, who was leaning against a post on the dock some distance away. “I’ve been waiting for you all day. Evidently the discovery of a city councilor’s corpse doesn’t mean much to you.”
Martin Lebrecht sighed. “Believe me, Answin, I would have come earlier, but all hell has broken loose out in town. Ever since the suffragan bishop offered a reward for any tips, we’re swamped with accusations. I’m just coming back from the home of old Ganswiener up on Kaulberg Hill, who swears that his neighbor turns into a hairy monster every night and barks like a wolf. It just so happens that Ganswiener has had an eye on his neighbor’s property for years.” The captain groaned loudly. “He’s a damn liar, but just try and prove it. If I don’t take his report, he’ll run straight to the suffragan bishop, and in the end they’ll say I’m a werewolf, too. And then tomorrow,” he continued with a desperate laugh, “His Excellency and elector the bishop of Würzburg will be arriving, and I’ve got to reassign the guards so there will be no mishaps. Aside from all that, I’ve got to-” He stopped short, then shook his head in frustration. “In a word, I really don’t know whether I’m coming or going.”