“I’m dreaming. .,” he said in a fading voice. “I must be dreaming. Oh, God, that’s not possible.”
His head fell to one side, and his eyes stared blankly into space.
“You idiot,” Jakob snarled at his brother. “Couldn’t you have told him you’re only wearing a disguise? Look what you’ve done. Who’s going to explain that to Barbara?” He rushed forward and held a finger to Matheo’s jugular. “Lucky for you,” he said, “the boy is simply unconscious. With the way you look and smell, he could have just as easily had a stroke.”
From under his pelts, Bartholomäus growled disdainfully. “It’s probably better this way. If he were awake he’d just make trouble for us. And given how light the prisoner is, I wouldn’t mind carrying him all the way to Würzburg.”
“It’ll be enough if we just get him to your house,” Magdalena said. “And now, let’s get out of here before the guards outside wake up.”
“Not so fast. First we have to take care of the necessary hocus-pocus.”
Jakob put down his bundle, took out a few little containers, and in a few hasty strokes sketched a black hexagram on the floor with a piece of coal.
“The Seal of Solomon,” he whispered in a feigned tone of piety. “A powerful magic symbol, at least if you believe in it. It’s said Solomon used it to conjure up angels and demons. So why not a werewolf?”
In the middle of the star-shaped seal, Jakob placed a wooden dish that he filled with yellow kernels, then set fire to it with a burning stick of kindling. The contents began to give off clouds of smoke.
“My God, what a smell,” Magdalena said, coughing and holding her hand over her mouth and nose. “Is that really necessary?”
“You can’t cast the spell without sulfur. An ancient witch’s rule.” Her father blew a puff of air into the bowl, and another cloud of smoke rose toward the ceiling. “Believe me, in my life I’ve had to question a lot of witches, and at the end they always mention sulfur-not because it’s the truth, but because that’s what the inquisitor wants to hear. Sulfur goes with Satan like holy water goes with the dear Lord.” He stood up and wiped his hands on his stinking fur cloak. “Bartholomäus, you can carry the little shrimp,” he said. “Magdalena, take the lantern. I’ll wait at the gate outside for our big surprise.” He grinned. “We don’t want the guards to forget our werewolf.”
They exited the dungeon, though the way out was hard to find because of all the smoke. The unconscious guards were still lying outside in the courtyard alongside the wolf’s carcass that Jakob had been wearing earlier. Once again, Magdalena admired the impressive specimen her uncle had been able to trap. Rigor mortis made the animal appear even larger than it already was.
“We’ll put him right under the gate,” Jakob said, “along with a nice little farewell gift.”
They ran across the courtyard to the open gate, where Jakob set the carcass down and unpacked another little container, which, like the previous one, had a wax seal. This one, however, had a little hole in the side with a fuse sticking out. The hangman looked around and then set the container down in the courtyard, far enough from the unconscious guards and the wolf cadaver.
“We want to make sure they have a story to tell about their terrifying battle with the beast from hell. Hand me the lantern,” Jakob said, turning to Magdalena.
Carefully, Jakob lit a stick of kindling and held it to the fuse, which immediately started hissing, the spark quickly approaching the container.
“And now, we must all run quickly!” he said. “I was almost going to say like the devil.”
When they’d gotten halfway across the cathedral square, there was a thunderous explosion behind them, and shortly afterward they heard the cries of the guards.
They ran as fast as they could until they reached the foot of the cathedral mount. Gasping for air, Bartholomäus directed Jakob and Magdalena into a narrow, unlit side street, where he finally placed the still-unconscious Matheo on the ground.
“How is he doing?” Magdalena asked softly.
“Better ask how I am doing,” Bartholomäus groaned. “The kid is heavier than I thought.”
Her father bent down to the injured boy and examined him quickly. “The guards gave him a terrible beating, and the stocks have crushed his joints,” he said finally. “Also, he badly needs a cup of wine to get his strength back, a little black currant salve, and something to eat. But he’ll survive.”
And in fact, at that moment, Matheo began groaning and moving restlessly back and forth.
“Can you hear me, Matheo?” Magdalena asked. The boy nodded hesitantly, and she continued. “It’s me, Magdalena, Barbara’s sister. We rescued you from the dungeon.”
“But. . but the werewolf. .,” Matheo murmured.
“That must have been just a bad dream,” Magdalena replied, not wanting to go into a long explanation.
Far above them on the cathedral mount, excited shouts could still be heard, but they were soon drowned out by Bartholomäus’s loud laughter.
“Be quiet,” Jakob whispered to his brother. “We’re far from being out of the woods yet. If they catch us here wearing these pelts, you might as well start drawing and quartering yourself right now.”
“Oh, come now.” Bartholomäus waved him off dismissively. They’ve got other concerns up there.” He grinned and nudged his older brother. “I’ve got to admit I had no faith in your plan, but it really worked. With all this hocus-pocus, no one will figure out that I opened the dungeon for you. And perhaps the good citizens of Bamberg will be satisfied with their dead werewolf.” His eyes sparkled merrily. “That reminds me how when we were kids we stole three skulls from the Schongau City Cemetery and put them in the windows of the pastor’s house. Do you remember? You spoke in a deep voice, and I-”
“Do you hear that?” Magdalena interrupted.
Bartholomäus listened, then he frowned. “I hear shouting. So what?”
“Yes, but it’s not coming from the cathedral mount but from the city,” Magdalena answered. “Something must have happened there.”
“Damn, she’s right.” Jakob quickly took off the stinking pelt. “Quick, get out of these rags before the people discover us. It sounds like perhaps a fire has broken out, and then the whole city will wake up.”
After some hesitation, Bartholomäus also removed his wolf costume. They wrapped everything up in a big bundle that Jakob tucked under his arm.
Magdalena bent down again to Matheo, who seemed to be falling back to sleep. “Can you walk?” she asked with concern.
When Matheo nodded, she turned to the two Kuisl brothers. “It would be best if you could support him on both sides, like a drunk. That way we won’t attract so much attention.”
With Matheo in the middle, they slowly walked down to the end of the lane, then turned in the direction of the Michelsberg, where everything was still calm and dark. Soon they arrived at the muddy towpath along the Regnitz. Jakob took the bundle with the pelts, old rags, and empty containers, and threw it as far as he could out into the river, where it bobbed along on the surface for a while and finally sank.
“I feel much better now,” Jakob grunted, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I sweated like an old pig under that pelt.”
“We just need to make sure nobody smells us,” his brother replied with a grin, “or they’ll put us in a dog kennel.”
In the meantime, Magdalena had walked out onto a rickety dock and stood looking over at the eastern part of the city.
“Geyerswörth Castle is brightly lit,” she whispered excitedly. “That’s where all the noise is coming from. But I don’t see a fire anywhere.” She sighed. “I hope nothing has happened to Simon at that bishop’s reception.”
“Well, at least the boys are safe at home with Georg,” her father replied in a reassuring voice. “They probably went to bed long ago. Let’s hurry home to Bartholomäus’s house, and perhaps on our way there we’ll learn what happened.”