Jakob, mulling it all over, reached out for the chess pieces lying on the table beside the chessboard.
“The first victim was probably this Klaus Schwarzkontz,” he mumbled without taking the pipe from his mouth. “An old Bamberg city councilor.” He placed a white castle on the board. “Thadäus Vasold was also an old councilor, and the old lady Agnes Gotzendörfer was the widow of an influential patrician, as well.” Another castle and a black queen followed. “So here we have three people connected by the power they had in the past.”
“But there were also some rather young women,” Magdalena chimed in. “The apothecary’s wife, Adelheid Rinswieser, for example, whose husband is also on the council. And Simon said that the fiancée of another young councilor also disappeared, a certain Johanna Steinhofer.”
Jakob placed two white knights alongside the black queen and the two rooks. “Look,” he said. “It’s just a thought. If you leave the prostitute out of the picture, it’s a struggle between the patricians and the other families. The only conclusion, then-”
Georg cleared his throat. “Father?” he asked softly.
Impatiently, Jakob turned to face him. “For God’s sake, what is it?”
“Uh, you forget there was one more woman who has disappeared,” Georg replied timidly. “A simple miller’s wife by the name of Barbara Leupnitz, who lived in the Bamberg Forest. Her husband is certain one of the dismembered arms belonged to her. After Councilor Schwarzkontz, she was the second victim.”
Jakob set down another white pawn among the other figures. “So, not one of the patricians. I thought the veil was lifting.”
“Well, perhaps it is, after all.”
It was Jeremias, lying on the bed. Apparently the pain in his face had subsided. Now he stood up, shuffled over to the table, and stood there thinking about the six figures on the chessboard. He reached out with his gout-plagued fingers for the lone white pawn, then turned to Georg with a questioning look.
“Did you say the miller’s wife is Barbara Leupnitz?”
When Georg nodded, Jeremias continued, lost deep in thought: “I knew her father well. Johannes Schramb. He was just a simple scribe in the city hall, like a number of others. But there was a time when I saw Schramb almost every day.”
“And when was that?” Magdalena asked.
Jeremias took a deep breath before answering.
“That was at the time of the witch trials. Johannes Schramb was at that time a scribe for the so-called Witches Commission.”
“The Witches Commission?” asked Magdalena, frowning. “Like the one they’ve set up because of this werewolf?”
“Something like that,” Jeremias nodded. “Back then, the members of the Witches Commission were the so-called Fragherren-the inquisitors-and they alone decided who looked suspicious and whom to question. They were also present every time a suspect was tortured. The Bamberg Witches Commission ruled in cases involving life and death. They were appointed by the bishop, and there was no one in the city who could question their decisions.”
Magdalena murmured, “A small circle of powerful men who could decide whether people lived or died. They must have felt like they were gods.” She stopped short. “Wait!” She pointed excitedly at the other pieces on the chessboard. “Were any of the present victims members of that Witches Commission?”
“The members of the commission changed from one trial to the next,” Jeremias replied with a shrug, “but there were some who served every time, and I can remember very clearly who they were. One of them was Klaus Schwarzkontz, and I think also Thadäus Vasold and Egidius Gotzendörfer, the husband of Agnes Gotzendörfer.” He sighed. “But old Egidius is long gone, and all the other victims are naturally much too young. After all, all this happened nearly forty years ago.”
“What about the scribe, this Johannes Schramb?” Jakob asked. “Is he still living?”
Jeremias shook his head. “Surely not. Even then he was no youngster. I think he died more than ten years ago.”
“But his daughter. . she passed away just recently,” Jakob replied, taking another deep drag on his pipe. He glared at old Jeremias. “Do you think there’s a way we can find out whether the two other young women had a father or grandfather who served on this commission? If they got married, then their surnames would be different, of course.”
Jeremias thought for a while. “It wouldn’t be especially difficult to find out their maiden names. Perhaps Berthold Lamprecht can help us with that. As the tavern keeper of the Wild Man, there isn’t a soul in Bamberg he doesn’t know.” He shrugged. “But whether their fathers or grandfathers were members of the commission then-”
Georg couldn’t contain himself any longer and jumped up urgently from his stool. “Let’s see if I’ve got this right. Do you seriously believe there’s someone out there deliberately targeting these former commission members? And once he disposes of them, he strings up their spouses, children, and grandchildren?”
“Good Lord, how often do I have to tell you to keep your mouth shut when adults are talking,” Jakob scolded, looking at Georg so angrily that the young man meekly returned to his seat.
“He’s fifteen, almost sixteen, Father,” Magdalena objected. “Georg is no longer a little boy. Besides, we have a lot to thank him for.” She gave her younger brother a sarcastic look. “Even though he’s unfortunately worthless as a babysitter.”
Jakob grunted his disapproval, then offered an explanation.
“I told you before, there are two possibilities. This alleged werewolf could be a madman who kills people indiscriminately. Or he could have a plan. If he has a plan, and I’m beginning to believe he does, then there’s some connection between all these murders. It can’t be an accident that among the victims there are two former inquisitors, the widow of another, and the daughter of one of the scribes. The other murders no doubt have some connection to it all, as well, and that’s what we have to find out.” He turned back to Jeremias. “So what can you tell me about the names of the commission members?”
Jeremias sighed wearily. “I already told you. There was not just one commission, but many-a new group was assembled for each trial. I can remember Schwarzkontz and the two old councilors, as well as the scribe Schramb, but as far as the others are concerned”-he hesitated-“for the life of me, I can’t remember who they were. Those were uncivil, barbaric times, and moreover, it all happened ages ago. You’d have to look at the old records to find out what lists all those inquisitors were on.”
“But why should we do that?” Georg asked, confused.
“How stupid are you, you numbskull?” Jakob snapped, pounding the table so hard that the chess pieces flew off in all directions. “If we can find the one trial where all of these inquisitors were present, we can perhaps prevent another calamity.”
“And you say that because-” Magdalena started to say.
“Because I sense there are a few more people on this list,” Jakob interrupted. He pointed at his nose. “And my nose here tells me our unknown suspect won’t stop killing until he’s gotten to the end of the list.”
“You can just forget about that,” replied Jeremias, shaking his head. “Those lists are ancient. They’re probably rotting away somewhere in the bishop’s archive. You can’t just walk in there and start looking around. The place is crawling with guards. Besides, you don’t know your way around there. You might just as well go looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“We got into the dungeon in the Old Residence, and we’ll make it into the bishop’s archive, as well,” Jakob replied firmly. “There’s always a way.” He pointed to Jeremias. “And you will help us in the search for the right document. I know that hangmen, too, often search the documentation about the questioning of condemned men. That’s what we do in Schongau.”
“And if I refuse?” Jeremias asked.
“If you refuse, we’ll turn you over to Captain Martin Lebrecht first thing tomorrow as a confessed murderer who is probably also the werewolf they’re looking for.”