Nevertheless, Simon was having a hard time concentrating. What if the guards up on the cathedral square surprised Magdalena and the others in the act? He could only hope the Schongau hangman was still the old swashbuckling brawler he knew from earlier adventures.
“Almost the entire city council is here,” Samuel whispered, standing next to him dressed in the black coat of the doctors’ guild. “Strange, isn’t it? All these people who have been struggling to cast off the yoke of the church fall to their knees as soon as the archbishop of Würzburg arrives.”
“They say that Johann Philipp von Schönborn is very open-minded and tolerant of worldly things,” Simon replied, sipping on his glass of cool white Sylvaner. He was happy for this diversion. “I expect a few strong words from him about the werewolf panic here in Bamberg.”
“Hah! I’m not even sure Schönborn knows about it! Our own bishop will no doubt do everything he can to cover it up. After all, he wants to stay on good terms with his Würzburg colleague. He needs him to-” Samuel stopped short on hearing cheers suddenly coming from the entrance to the castle. He turned toward the sound and squinted, trying to see through the crowd of visitors.
“Well, speak of the devil,” he mumbled. “The noble gentlemen have arrived. It’s about time.”
Now Simon could see the bishop’s legates, a small group of clerics and some courtiers who fluttered around the bishop like moths around a candle. When the pompous-looking courtier stepped briefly to one side, Simon caught a glimpse of the Bamberg prince-bishop Philipp Valentin von Rieneck, and alongside him an elderly gentleman with wavy gray hair and a bushy beard. The elderly man smiled good-naturedly while representatives of the Bamberg citizenry stepped up and bowed to him and to their own sovereign. Behind the two bishops stood an ashen-faced Sebastian Harsee. His skullcap had partially slipped off his bald head, he staggered a bit, and he kept taking out his handkerchief to dab the sweat on his forehead.
“Didn’t I tell him he’d have to stay in bed?” Samuel whispered. “Just look, Simon. The man is running a fever. But no, he won’t listen.”
“There was something else about his illness you wanted to check,” Simon replied in an undertone. “Did you find anything else?”
Simon himself had been thinking about the illness of the suffragan bishop, especially the red circle around the wound on his neck. He’d consulted some books from Bartholomäus’s library, but the Bamberg executioner was not as interested in medicine as his brother was. Almost all his books were about curing animals, and they were of no help to Simon.
“Unfortunately, I’ve been busy caring for the bishop’s mistress for the last few days,” Samuel answered with a shrug, “and haven’t had much time to deal with Harsee’s illness, but I think-”
“Master Samuel!” cried Philipp Rieneck, interrupting the conversation. Evidently the Bamberg bishop had just discovered his personal physician in the crowd. “So here you are. I’d like to introduce you to our friend Johann Philipp.”
Samuel sighed softly, then took the surprised Simon by the arm and led him to the front row, where they both knelt down before the elector.
“This is a great honor for me, Your Excellency,” Samuel said, bowing reverently, “and also for my friend Simon Fronwieser, a widely traveled scholar who even in distant Munich has heard about your wisdom and kindness.”
Simon cringed. Once again, Samuel was lying through his teeth, this time to one of the most powerful men in the Reich. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Harsee, trembling and watching it all.
He suspects something, Simon thought. Perhaps it’s just as well he’s so sick.
“Philipp Rieneck has told me about your wondrous cures, Master Samuel,” the Würzburg bishop replied in a deep and pleasant voice. “They are said to be a bit unusual, but nevertheless effective. It seems you have been very helpful to a young woman Philipp cares greatly about.”
“Ah, a loyal servant, nothing more,” the Bamberg bishop interjected. “But it is indeed true that Master Samuel is caring for her at the moment with great success. Just this morning I spoke with her and. . ah. . took her confession.”
“Perhaps you could use your expertise to help our dear brother, Sebastian,” Schönborn said, turning to the shivering suffragan bishop, who was as white as a corpse. “You don’t look well at all, my friend.”
“Oh. . I’m. . managing,” Sebastian struggled to say. “A slight fever, nothing serious. Didn’t. . want. . to miss the performance. If only I could get rid of these damned headaches. But of course, our Savior also had to suffer.”
He struggled in vain to smile. Meanwhile, the Würzburg bishop had turned back to Samuel, who, like Simon, was still kneeling before him.
“But do stand up, dear doctor,” he said warmly, “and your friend, too.”
After the two had gotten to their feet, Schönborn continued. “I’d like very much to hear your opinion on one matter, Doctor. I have heard that a werewolf is prowling about here in Bamberg and magically abducting his victims.” He frowned. “As you may know, we don’t think much of this hocus-pocus in Würzburg, something I’ve debated often with my friend Philipp. Isn’t that right, Philipp?” He glanced at the Bamberg prince-bishop, who laughed stiffly. “On the other hand, such creatures appear again and again in stories and reports, and now here in Bamberg,” Schönborn continued. “Tell me, dear doctor, is there an explanation for this as far as you know?”
The entire courtyard fell strangely silent, as visitors halted their conversations. Simon looked at Philipp Rieneck, who politely nodded as if encouraging him to respond, though his eyes were as cold as ice. Right behind him stood Sebastian Harsee, who despite his fever suddenly looked very threatening.
If Samuel wants to continue practicing in Bamberg, he’s got to be very careful about what he says now, Simon thought. Sometimes it’s a real advantage to be just a barber surgeon in Schongau.
“Well. .,” Samuel said hesitantly, “a thorough answer to this question would probably not be appropriate for this large audience. But let me assure you that I and my learned friend”-he gave Simon a friendly pat on the shoulder-“have come a long way toward finding an answer. We have already reached some tentative conclusions.”
“That would really be of great interest to me,” Schönborn replied with a smile. “But you’re right. The first of the two theater performances will begin soon. Perhaps we’ll have time to debate this topic afterward.”
“Ah, indeed. It will be my pleasure.”
Samuel bowed one last time, then stepped back into the crowd with Simon while the suffragan bishop eyed them suspiciously.
“Good God, what are these tentative conclusions?” Simon whispered. “If Schönborn asks you about them later, you must have something to say.”
“Hopefully I’ll think of something by then,” Samuel replied. “What should I have done? If I question the existence of the werewolf, I’ll fall out of favor with my prince, and if I support it, I risk my reputation as a doctor and scholar and will lose favor with one of the most powerful men in the Reich.”
“A really impossible situation.” Simon nodded sympathetically. “Let’s hope the two plays are so boring we’ll have time to think about a compromise. Shall we enter?”
They entered the great dance hall of the palace with the other guests, passing through a low doorway. In the back third of the room, a stage had been constructed of spruce wood with stairs leading up to it and a red curtain in front. The room was illuminated by hundreds of candles, giving a lifelike appearance to the paintings of plants and animals on the vaulted ceiling.
In the first row there were fur-upholstered seats for the two ruling princes, the suffragan bishop, and some of the leading aristocrats. The rest of the audience, as usual, had to stand. Behind them, stairs led up to a gallery, where Simon and Samuel managed to find room standing along the railing with a good view of the stage.