The Poisoned Pilgrim: A Hangman's Daughter Tale (20 page)

“Ah, I’ll confess that I haven’t yet—”

“Ah, but see here… as far as I know, the chronicles of Andechs is not a medical work.” Brother Benedikt had drawn closer and suspiciously eyed the book Simon had just been leafing through.

The medicus’s smile was enough to melt ice. “Excuse me, but my curiosity just got the better of me. After all, I don’t often have the chance to visit such a venerable facility. How old is this monastery, by the way?”

“Over two hundred years,” Benedikt replied. “It was founded by Augustinian canons, but we Benedictines took charge soon afterward.”

“Is that so? I would have thought the building is much older. All the cellars, the weathered rock…”

“A castle and a chapel once stood here,” the librarian conceded, “but the little church that housed the three sacred hosts is long gone.”

“And where are the three hosts now?” Simon inquired, curious. “In a few days, they’ll be displayed to thousands of pilgrims.”

Brother Benedikt looked at him suspiciously again. “Safely stored away, of course, in the sacred chapel until Sunday, when they will be displayed to the pilgrims from the bay window of the church.”

“Isn’t it strange that these two dreadful murders and the other remarkable events are taking place just before the Festival
of the Three Hosts?” Simon said softly. “It almost looks as if someone is trying to ruin this festival.”

“The festival will take place, you can count on that.” For a moment Simon thought he detected a bit of uncertainty in the old monk’s face, but then Benedikt regained his composure. “For hundreds of years, the sacred three hosts have been displayed to the people in a sealed monstrance on exactly this day,” he murmured. “They have survived fire, attacks, and the Great War, and they will also survive this damned witchery. No one can steal them, and certainly no one can make them disappear by magic.” He straightened up, and his eyes began to shine, as if he was declaiming an ancient spell. “Three keys are needed to enter the holy chapel, and only the abbot, the prior, and a member of the Wittelsbach family can open the room together. So don’t worry, the hosts are well cared for and no one will disturb the venerable ceremony.”

Simon cringed when he remembered what Magdalena had told him about her visit to the church.

A Wittelsbach has the third key
…

Hadn’t Magdalena observed how upset the abbot had been during the mass? Then he had left with the prior and Count Wartenberg and disappeared upstairs in the relics room. Was there a connection between the murders and the sacred three hosts?

“I’m afraid you’ll have to put your medical studies off until tomorrow,” the librarian said, interrupting Simon’s train of thought. “I’m closing the rooms here now. In my opinion, you should be caring for the poor pilgrims anyway and leave it to the judge in Weilheim to take care of this satanic apothecary.” He shuffled over to the door. “Brother Maurus should have called the judge long ago and worried less about the gossip. We just can’t allow a sorcerer in our venerable institution. This is a matter that has to be attended to as quickly as possible.”

“Speaking of witchcraft…” Simon interjected, “Brother
Eckhart said something about a golem. Do you perhaps have any books about that?”

The librarian stopped suddenly and turned around to Simon. “Didn’t I just say you need to care for the sick?” he growled. “But now that you ask—yes, there is a book about that here.”

“Aha! Could I perhaps have a look at it?”

Brother Benedikt pursed his lips in a narrow smile. “That’s not possible; the abbot himself has borrowed that book.”

Simon suppressed a slight shudder.

It is the book written in Hebrew on the abbot’s table, a book on conjuring up golems.

“You are right,” Simon sighed finally and rose with a shrug. “I must take care of my patients.” He decided not to tell the librarian anything about his remarkable discovery concerning the novitiate’s body. Something warned him not to trust the old man, or in this case, anyone. “The matter should be in the hands of a judge,” he confessed remorsefully. “I’ve taken up too much time with this. Nevertheless, thank you for your explanations.”

Without Brother Benedikt noticing it, Simon quickly hid the Adechs chronicle in his jacket and started for the exit. The librarian’s words had awakened his interest in learning more about the monastery’s past. He clenched his fists determinedly and put on a droll smile as he followed the monk out the door. Simon had the annoying habit of becoming curious about whatever he was told to stay away from.

What mystery is hidden behind these walls—or beneath them?

Stiffly, Simon descended the stairway as Brother Benedikt continued to eye him distrustfully, and didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until he was outside. His heart pounding, he took the chronicle out from under his robe and wiped his sweat from the leather binding. Then he broke out in a broad grin.

At least he’d have something to read tonight.

After Magdalena had put the children to bed, she sat down, exhausted, in the main room of her cousin’s house to relax from the tribulations of the day and absent-mindedly stirred a cup of steaming mulled wine. She’d been singing bedtime songs to the children for almost an hour, and now she was hoarse, as one might expect. Three-year-old Peter in particular couldn’t fall asleep and kept asking for just one more. After being away from the children the last three days, they now clung to her all the more. At least her sickness had passed, even though her stomach still felt a bit queasy.

Magdalena wished she could share her feelings with her husband, but as so often, Simon was completely wrapped up in his own plans and thoughts. She sighed softly. Especially now, she wished she had a little support. She was still wearing a bandage around her neck where the silent bullet had grazed her the night before, and though the wound seemed to have healed well, she remained fearful that the stranger might strike again. Or was Simon perhaps right… had she just imagined all this? Was the stranger in the belfry perhaps just some drunken monk she’d disturbed in his befuddled condition? And was the shot in the dark nothing more than a ricocheting bullet from a hunter’s rifle?

Lost in thought, Magdalena took another drink from her cup of wine. The knacker Michael Graetz had gone off to the tavern in Erling for a mug or two of beer, and her only companion was the silent Matthias, huddled down on the bench by the stove across from her. Once again she noticed what a handsome young man he was. He was perhaps in his early twenties, and with his powerful arms, black apron open in the front, and red hair, he looked a bit like one of the drifters who would occasionally pass through Schongau to sing songs and perform magic tricks.

Graetz had told her that the redheaded lad couldn’t speak because marauding soldiers had cut out his tongue when he was
a child, and for this reason she didn’t expect him to approach her. It was strange to be seated in a room with someone staring at you, however, without even being able to say a word.

“Don’t you want to go down to the tavern with your master?” Magdalena ventured, just to have something to say. “It was a tough day, and no doubt your throat is dry.”

The silent helper shook his head, and a gurgling sound came from his throat. He was pointing at Magdalena’s cup of wine.

“
Ahh dahh ring
…” he stammered.

“You don’t drink?” she replied.

Matthias beamed, seeing he was understood.

“And why not?”

The handsome fellow seemed to think a bit; then his face turned into a threatening grimace as he spread his fingers out like claws.

Instinctively, Magdalena moved off to one side. “Ah, it makes you sick?” she asked hesitantly.

Matthias sighed and rolled his eyes as if he were drunk. Finally, he reached for a pitcher of water and drank it in one long gulp.

“Aaah.”
he exclaimed, rubbing his stomach like after a good meal.
“Aach eer… ush eer.”

“You’re right,” Magdalena murmured. “Alcohol sometimes changes men into beasts, lustful beasts, or snoring bears.” She laughed self-consciously, and the good-looking assistant stared back at her unambiguously. Suddenly she felt the heat and closeness of the room closing in around her and stood up, blushing.

“Say,” she began somewhat awkwardly, “do you think you could keep an eye on the two sleeping kids for a little while? I’d like to get out for some fresh air, and since you’re not going to the tavern…” She smiled at him, and for a moment Matthias seemed befuddled, trying to sort things out in his mind, reaffirming Magdalena’s impressions that the knacker’s assistant was not only handsome but unfortunately a bit dense. He didn’t seem especially
enthused at Magdalena’s suggestion, but finally he nodded.

“Then… until later,” she said softly. “And thank you very much.”

She quickly tossed on a scarf, stood up, and left. Outside, in the cool night air, she almost had to laugh at herself. What in the world was wrong with her? Evidently, events of the last few days had rattled her so much that now even a mute knacker’s boy could throw her off her stride. The children, too, had upset her more than she’d expected while their father was busy with more important things.

Magdalena took a deep breath, then decided to go up to the monastery and search for her husband. It annoyed her that Simon was gone again in the evening, leaving her to care for the children. He really should have returned some time ago; perhaps she’d even meet up with him on the way.

The distant singing of drunken men wafted through the cool night air, and in the fields around the village little fires were burning. Many of the pilgrims spent the night outside, and by now several hundred people had set up camp at the foot of the Holy Mountain.

Steering clear of the fires and the warm and inviting lights of the tavern, Magdalena climbed up the steep pathway toward the monastery, and was soon enveloped in silence. The stone wall around the monastery where she and Simon had sat in the warm sun yesterday noon had now become a black strip silhouetted against an even darker background. There was a cracking of branches in the bushes on either side of the path, and once Magdalena even thought she heard footsteps. She hurried along the path, finally passing through a gate and entering the monastery grounds. Here too, in contrast with the loud activity during the day, quiet prevailed. Somewhere she heard a single bell sound. Two drunks coming from the monastery tavern approached her, but they, too, stumbled silently past.

Finally she reached the square in front of the church and started looking for Simon. Just where could he be? He was only going to pay a quick visit to the abbot with her father, but that was at least three hours ago. Had the two of them paid a visit to the ugly Nepomuk in the dungeon?

Magdalena’s mind wandered as she stared at the piles of stone and sacks of lime lying all around the square. Workers had put up scaffolding on the walls and front of the church to make repairs to the roof. A wailing tomcat scurried across the boards in search of his mate, and Magdalena looked up, smiling, to see the animal disappear through a crack in the wall of the belfry.

It suddenly occurred to her that she still didn’t know what the strange device was up in the belfry. Should she have another look now? Perhaps she could find out if her fall from the belfry was really just a foolish accident.

Magdalena resolutely opened the church portal a crack and slipped inside. The church was empty. She reached for one of the dozens of flickering candles on a side altar and carefully climbed the steps to the balcony. From there, a rickety, partially repaired winding stairway led up into the tower.

Magdalena walked as best she could on the interior side of the steps, carefully placing one foot in front of the other. At least the darkness offered her the advantage of not knowing what was just a few yards ahead of the flickering candles and spared her the dizzying sight of what lay below. With heart pounding, she climbed step by step until she finally reached the upper platform with the three bells. Carefully she raised the candle and looked around.

“What in God’s name…?” She held her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming.

The stretcher with the metal clamps, as well as the iron stakes, had disappeared.

To be sure, she walked around the entire platform, but the strange construction had indeed vanished into thin air. All that
remained was a piece of wire protruding from the ceiling, dangling in the wind.

Magdalena cursed softly. Someone must have removed the stretcher in the last two days. Now she would probably never find out what the apparatus was. Grumbling, she kicked one of the heavy church bells, but the heavy iron bell hardly moved a fraction of an inch. Then she climbed down and quietly left the church, but not without bowing one last time before the main altar and the two statues of Mary.

Please excuse the lateness of my visit, Holy Mother of God, she prayed to herself. But you, too, probably want to know what’s going on up in your tower. Or have you known about all this for a long time?

As Magdalena stepped under the scaffolding in front of the main entrance, she could sense something moving. At that moment a large, heavy object fell toward her. Instinctively, she jumped aside in time for a shapeless object to graze her right shoulder. There was a whoosh as a waist-high sack of lime landed next to her on the ground, bursting open and pouring its contents across the pavement.

Everything happened so fast that Magdalena scarcely had time to catch her breath. Her heart pounding, she leaned against one of the uprights of the scaffold, staring down at the sack from which a cloud of dust rose now into the bright, moonlit night.

Was that just another accident? Softly she cursed herself for sneaking through the church in the darkness. Good Lord, she had two little children who needed her, and here she was poking her nose around, looking for some madman.

“Is everything all right?”

The voice came from the right, by the church entrance. A monk approached, but not until he was standing almost in
front of her did she recognize the novitiate master Brother Laurentius.