It was high time to go home.
After what seemed like an eternity, the noise outside gradually subsided. Barbara could hear occasional shouts, but they were probably just the night watchmen. She got up, cautiously approached the door, and peeked out through a crack into the darkness. Seeing nothing, she slipped out into the cool night air of the garden.
She crept barefoot across a gravel path that wound its way alongside a labyrinth of hedges. Everywhere on the lawn stood bushes trimmed into the shapes of animals and geometric figures that, in the nearly complete darkness, looked like huge monsters. The statues around the fountain in the middle of the park appeared to be following Barbara with their eyes.
After a while she stopped and turned around, squinting. The garden was enclosed on three sides by a high wall that rose up just a few steps in front of her in the darkness. On the fourth side was the castle, through which she had entered and which was also the way out to the city. It seemed too risky to her to go back. Most likely, the gate to the courtyard had long ago been closed.
So, over the wall, she thought.
She was fearful about that, as she remembered that the castle grounds were surrounded on both sides by branches of the river. Even if she succeeded in getting over the wall, she’d have to swim. She didn’t even want to think about how cold the water would be in late autumn.
Looking for a way out, she continued groping along through the darkness. On the left a huge log house appeared, and inside it there was a pounding and the sound of rushing water. She’d seen a number of small canals filled with water around the pavilion and in the garden, and she assumed the building housed one of these fashionable new water pumps. The building stood right against the wall and was covered with ivy, so for a halfway-experienced climber it would be an easy matter to scramble up.
Barbara didn’t hesitate for a moment. She grabbed hold of the thin vines and pulled herself up, bit by bit, until she was atop the roof with the rumbling machines beneath her. Now the top of the wall came up only to her waist. She pulled herself up on the wall and looked down at the narrow, fast-flowing arm of the Regnitz on the other side. She was a good swimmer, but she couldn’t tell how far the current would carry her. At worst, she could land in one of the many water wheels just a short distance down the river and be ripped to shreds.
Do I have any choice?
Barbara murmured a short prayer, then jumped feetfirst into the rushing water.
It was so cold that it took her breath away. The current drove her toward one of the mills, whose wheel was squeaking and groaning as it turned in the water.
The river water stank of rot and decay, and it tugged at her as if with a hundred arms, reluctant to give up its prey. Nevertheless she fought against the current, getting closer and closer to the opposite shore.
Finally she grabbed hold of a slippery shrub along the shore and pulled herself up. Gasping for air, she scrambled up the steep bank and looked for refuge behind a few splintered barrels.
In front of her was a dark street littered with horse droppings. Everything seemed calm, and the only thing she heard were the bells in the distance striking the eleventh hour.
Barbara leaned against one of the barrels and tried to catch her breath. Her whole body shook and her teeth chattered with the cold, but she had made it. Now she just had to get back to the executioner’s house. Her father would probably give her a good whipping, but she’d accept that punishment in return for a cup of hot mulled wine and a warm embrace from her big sister.
They’ll excuse me. A family always forgives.
Carefully she sat up and got her bearings. The city hall had to be in front of her, somewhere on the right. There was also a bridge there that she could take to get to the newer part of the city. Hastily, she picked up the dripping hem of her skirt and set out on her way.
Just as she reached the next corner, a mob of young men armed with scythes, pitchforks, and torches came running out of a side street. They appeared just as surprised by the sudden meeting as she was, but their hesitation didn’t last long.
“Hey, isn’t that the cute princess from the troupe of actors?” one of them shouted, pointing at Barbara’s torn dress. Instinctively, she cringed. In the excitement she’d completely forgotten the expensive red dress, and now she felt it was practically glowing in the dark.
“Just have a look at this,” another young man said, ogling her breasts beneath the soaking dress. “Looks like the dirty little water rat has been taking a bath in the city moat.” He looked down at her condescendingly. “Tell me, did you meet with the other witches? You can’t deny it. We’ve already caught a couple of you, and they all admit they changed the suffragan bishop into a werewolf. So speak up.”
Barbara immediately understood that further discussion was pointless, so she did the first thing that came to mind-she turned and ran down the street as fast as she could. The young men ran after her, shouting.
She zigged and zagged a few times, then darted off into a narrow lane. Not until it was too late did she notice that the way led steeply uphill, probably to Kaulberg Hill adjacent to the cathedral mount, a labyrinth with many tiny houses, stairways, winding lanes, churches, and chapels. Barbara struggled for breath as the young men behind her bellowed triumphantly and drew closer.
The lane became steeper and narrower, and now Barbara had completely lost her way. Evidently the men had split up, as she could now hear the sounds of running feet on all sides.
They’re surrounding me. Like wolves chasing a young deer, they’re closing in on me.
Suddenly the lane widened, and before her she saw the dark outlines of a monastery. She hesitated for a moment, looked around, then ran across the market square to the large doorway of the monastery church. Building cranes and scaffolding stood all around, just as they did in front of many other church buildings in the city. The entire square was one huge construction site, with piles of stone blocks and sacks of mortar that served as cover as she hunched over and ran toward the monastery. If she could make it into the church, she had some chance of evading her pursuers. As in all churches and monasteries in the Reich, the right of asylum applied in Bamberg as well. Anyone who had entered the protective interior would be safe.
With her last bit of strength, she rushed toward the gate and shook the doorknob frantically.
But the door was locked.
Furiously she pounded the massive wooden door. It simply wasn’t possible. A church was supposed to be open at all hours of day and night. Apparently the monks, in their fear of werewolves and marauding militias, had locked the door.
She looked around and could see the light of torches entering the square and drawing closer. In desperation, she stormed toward a building crane in the middle of the square, where she could see the dark outlines of a large pile of sand. Perhaps she could find some place to hide there.
She quickly scrambled up the pile, damp from the evening fog, and was almost at the top when the sand beneath her suddenly gave way. She reached out wildly in all directions, but found nothing to hold on to and rolled back down the slope into a pit at the foot of the sand pile. Facedown, she lay there in the mud.
This is the end, she thought.
And indeed, she heard the shouts of the young men, this time very close by. They were somewhere on the construction site.
She crawled away from the pile, from which sand was still trickling down, and suddenly she caught sight of a tunnel supported by wooden beams. It appeared to have been dug by the workers looking for the necessary sand for their building. She crept toward it, ducked down to get inside, and at once was enveloped in darkness as black as the grave. The tunnel was waist-high but noticeably narrower at the far end. Nevertheless, she kept moving forward until the shouts behind her were muffled and finally faded away.