The Dark Monk

A TRAVEL GUIDE THROUGH THE PRIESTS’ CORNER

If, like me, you’re one of those people who like to read a book’s epilogue first, you should stop now. This book is a journey that will take you from one riddle to the next and to some of the most beautiful places in Bavaria. What pleasure is there in solving riddles when you already know the solutions? So stop reading!

STOP!

If, on the other hand, you have finished reading the novel, then sit back and enjoy this section. The following pages will help you plan your next vacation to the Priests’ Corner, absolutely my favorite area in the Alpine foothills. If I had to explain to an extraterrestrial what Bavaria is-what it smells and feels like-I would just set him down on the mountain Hoher Peißenberg and tell him to look around for himself at a countryside as colorful as a robust painting from the Bavarian baroque period: monasteries, chapels, lakes, gentle hills, and the distant Alpine peaks that, when the warm, dry foehn is blowing down from the mountains, appear as close as the nearest cow pasture.

The people who live here are all a little bit like my ancestor Jakob Kuisl: stubborn, grumpy, and reserved. But if you approach them with humility, respectfully doffing your hat politely in church, they won’t bite. Be brave!

You can find all the places mentioned in this novel on a map today. After a trip through your imagination, what makes more sense than actually traveling to this area to check out all the riddles and the history behind them? To best appreciate Kuisl’s time, of course, you should travel on foot or at least by bicycle. Back then, things were not as fast or hectic as they are today. In researching this book, I walked everywhere and got lost several times in the Ammer Gorge. Why should you get off any easier?

Enough said! Pack this book in your backpack with a pair of good hiking boots, a water bottle, and a local map, and come along with me to…

To find the place where my story begins, I had to search an awfully long time. The former Church of St. Lawrence lies on the outskirts of Altenstadt, at the far end of St. Lawrence Street (Sankt-Lorenz-Straße). Though it dates back to the twelfth century, it was renovated and converted into a farmhouse in 1812. For this reason, I walked right past it twice on my first trip, winding up in the parking lot of a nearby company before I finally realized that the old ivy-covered building at the edge of town actually had once been a church. Only its massive blocks of igneous rock and the navelike structure suggested a time and place when fat priests like Andreas Koppmeyer preached to their flock. The babbling of the Schönach next to the house, the reed-covered river valley, and the roadway lined with mountain ash, however, conjured up that ancient locale in my mind’s eye. I’m sure they will for you as well.

In Roman times and also later, in the Middle Ages, Altenstadt must have been an important trading center. Here, the Via Claudia Augusta, the greatest Roman highway this side of the Alps, intersected with the medieval Salt Route, which stretched from the Berchtesgaden area to the Allgäu. But the many merchants and travelers in that area also attracted robbers and hostile armies, and in the thirteenth century, citizens decided, therefore, to move to a protected hill a few miles away. That marked the birth of the town of Schongau, while Altenstadt-the “old city”-became a sleepy town and remained so until modern times, like Sleeping Beauty in the fairy tale.

When the St. Lawrence Church was remodeled in the nineteenth century, they say a crypt was found containing some unusually large human bones. We don’t know whether this was the crypt of a Templar knight, but it’s an established fact that the order of knights was active here. Near the former little church, there is to this day a Templar Street (Templerstraße). Also, the bill of sale, dated 1289, an agreement between the Premonstratensians and a certain Fridericus Wildergraue, “Supreme Master of the Templars in Alemania and Sclavis,” still exists. When I first saw a copy of this document, I knew at once that this was the start of a new novel.

Please follow me now to the center of town and…

THE BASILICA OF ST. MICHAEL IN ALTENSTADT

Within sight of the property formerly belonging to the Templars is my favorite church in the Priests’ Corner. Amid all the baroque splendor of the region, the Basilica of St. Michael, with its simplicity and large dimensions-its huge towers, massive outer walls, and rounded arches-looks more like a Romanesque castle than a sacral building.

Over the main portal, a relief depicts a battle between two knights and a dragon, which gave me material for my second riddle. In the opinion of the local historian Helmut Schmidbauer, the two warriors are Enoch, the son of Cain, and the prophet Elijah-and I certainly accepted his opinion without question. His words, by God, are sacred! Anyone who wants to convince him of the contrary is welcome to try, but be prepared for the same Bavarian Priests’ Corner stubbornness you see in Jakob Kuisl.

The “Great God of Altenstadt,” the huge crucifix inside, dates from 1200 and is famous throughout Bavaria and beyond. Whenever I stand before it, looking into the rough-cut, sad, kindly face of the Savior, I always feel like Simon, an enlightened man suddenly infused with the Holy Spirit. And I like to imagine a piece of the actual True Cross secured inside this simple crucifix, even though, unfortunately, not a shred of evidence supports this.

All that remains of the fourteen auxiliary saints in the north aisle is a fragment, so no one can prove that a holy St. Fridericus wasn’t among them at one time. As for the memorial plaque on the exterior church wall, I’ll freely confess that’s my own invention.

Now let us set out on the way to…

Even though no riddle is hidden here, Schongau is the centerpiece of my first novel, as it is of this one. Schongau is a quiet little town with a medieval walkway along the battlements and many of the historical buildings that also appear in Jakob Kuisl’s adventures.

Here’s my suggestion for walking through town in the footsteps of my ancestor:

Start your trip out, just as the coffee-lover Simon might have, with a cup of black espresso in the Marienplatz; then enter the Ballenhaus, which is easy to recognize by its stepped gable. Here, in the former town hall, you can visit the second-floor meeting room where the clerk Johann Lechner and the Schongau patricians sealed the fate of the Scheller Gang. The beautiful carved wood ceiling dates from the sixteenth century, and the green tile stove plays a small, but not inconsequential role in my first novel.

At one time the Golden Star (Goldener Stern) Inn stood next to the Ballenhaus. It belonged to the Semer family, and in this novel it’s where Benedikta lodges when she visits Schongau. Today it’s home to a music school. The rich plasterwork and the former private chapel inside will remind you that, at one time, only the upper classes visited the Stern. Simon and Jakob Kuisl probably patronized the shabbier establishments in the tavern quarter behind the Ballenhaus.

From there, take the Old Gate (Alten Einlass) through the city wall and turn right, where you’ll see the Witches’ Tower (Hexenturm), where more than sixty women awaited execution in the famous Schongau witch trials.

Turning left at the Old Gate will take you to the Lech Gate (Lechtor) and along the unfortunately rather busy Lechberg Street (Lechbergstraße). The former Tanners’ Quarter is located near the raft landing where a bridge now crosses the river toward Peiting. Here, outside the city, where tanners plied their foul-smelling trade, was the house of the executioner Jakob Kuisl. Although nothing remains of that house, the Lech flows by just as slowly and lazily as it did when Magdalena set out on the ferry to Augsburg.

Go back up to town and take the walk along the battlements in the direction of the St. Sebastian Cemetery. If you’ve read The Hangman’s Daughter, you’ll remember this cemetery as the sinister backdrop against which Jakob Kuisl and Simon Fronwieser exhume children’s corpses. In those days the dungeon was located next to the cemetery, along with the Schongau executioner’s torture chamber. Until modern times, justice was meted out here; now, fortunately, it’s under the jurisdiction of the police. A bit farther down the road, you’ll come across the office of the district administrator. It was at this location that the ducal castle used to stand, the same spot where the clerk Johann Lechner planned the hunt for the robbers with Jakob Kuisl.

I highly recommend walking past the medieval Max Gate (Maxtor) to visit the Schongau City Museum, which is housed in a former church hospice. Look for the executioner’s sword, the portrait of Johann Lechner’s father, and the Kuisls’ cupboard, which served my ancestors as a medicine cabinet.

Finished?

Then you’ve earned a good supper. Tomorrow we’ll head to…

Peiting is the village on the other side of the Lech. Don’t be disappointed here: All that remains of the Guelph Castle on the hill is some rubble. Nevertheless, a short walk up the hill is worthwhile, as you will be able to see the Hoher Peißenberg from up there. A meadow of waist-high grass covers the foundation of what was once the rulers’ castle complex, but in the woods, you can still see the oaks that lined the former entryway to the castle.

In the year 1155, Emperor Barbarossa himself visited the Guelph ruler in this castle. Later the castle became the property of the Staufers and then the Wittelsbachs. After an earthquake in 1384 partially damaged the structure, the fortress began losing its importance. In 1632 it was dismantled and hauled away, and by the time Simon and Benedikta visited there in the winter of 1660, all that really remained was a ruin. What that looked like is just a matter of conjecture-yours and mine.

Hold on tight because just on the other side of Peiting is the Ammer Gorge. There you will find…

When I headed out to find Schleyer Falls the first time, I had to turn around when I realized I’d started out from the wrong place. The second time, I turned off before (instead of after) the Ammer Bridge and trudged along the wrong side of the river, deeper and deeper into the woods, until I finally arrived at the edge of a steep gorge. If I’d taken one more step, I might have landed in the raging torrent of the Ammer almost a hundred feet below me-and this book would never have been written! Sweating and suffering low blood sugar, I didn’t want to believe I’d gotten lost. I kept trudging on aimlessly until coming to an idyllic meadow full of flowers. Unfortunately, I have hay fever. Nowhere was a waterfall to be seen, but I did encounter a few helpful bicyclists, and while they had no idea how to get to Schleyer Falls, they were able to direct me back to where I came from.

Schleyer Falls became an obsession over the course of my research. So when I finally found it, I was a bit disappointed. Perhaps, after all my hardships, I expected something at least as impressive as Niagara Falls. But Schleyer Falls is rather small; the water flows over moss-covered limestone, forming a fine silver curtain of mist. If you are lucky and go in the off-season, you’ll have it all to yourself and feel as if you’re in one of Caspar David Friedrich’s paintings.

The entire area is a honeycomb of caves large enough to hide entire armies of bandits and was thus exactly right for the robbers’ smoke-filled lair in my novel.

For all those who don’t wish to get as hopelessly lost as I did, here is a description of the most scenic route: Coming from Saulgrub, walk down to the Ammer. After the bridge, the route climbs again and turns sharply to the right after the power plant. After a good twenty minutes, the path winds down again into the valley. There you’ll find yourself face to face with Schleyer Falls.

Pause with me for a few moments of reflection, then follow me to…

Wessobrunn is a bit far from the other riddle locations. It would be best to take a car or make a special bicycle trip there, either from Schongau or from Ammer Lake (Ammersee). If you approach it by bicycle from Dießen, as I did, it’s a long, uphill climb. It might have even been faster on foot, but I made it all the way without dismounting-so try to follow my example!

If you do, you’ll enjoy the rest stop all the more at the three springs by the former Benedictine monastery, which stands in solitary splendor on a hill south of Ammer Lake. Some of the best stucco workers in all of Europe once lived in this area, but nowadays the monastery and the village are sleepy. Don’t be surprised if the locals glare at you from behind the safety of their garden fences. When I stopped to ask an elderly man if I could rent a room for the night, he eyed me suspiciously, but by breakfast the next morning, he’d poured out his entire life story and told me about the best bike route back to Schongau. People in the Priests’ Corner just need time to warm up to you.

Many of the front doors in town bear the names of once-famous families of artists. If it interests you, go to the Post Tavern (Gasthof zur Post) and ask to see the dance hall, whose ceiling brings the storied past back to life. East of the village, you’ll find the yew forest that Simon and Benedikta passed through, where they met the presumed highwaymen.

Some of the sisters offer tourists an interesting tour of the monastery interior. When you see the magnificent stuccowork on the ceilings, you’ll understand why Wessobrunn craftsmen were known as far away as Venice. The halls and rooms here, by the way, served as models for the Steingaden library in the book.

The old Romanesque tower where Simon and Benedikta found the collection of precious books is at the far end of the building. I don’t know whether it was ever used as a library, but the massive defensive tower could have offered valuable protection during the Thirty Years’ War.

At the time of Simon and Benedikta’s travels, the so-called Wessobrunn Prayer, one of the oldest prayers in the German language, was, in fact, safeguarded here in this monastery. Now you’ll find it housed in the Bavarian State Library (Bayerische Staatsbibliothek).

Leaving the monastery, if you turn right and follow the outer wall for about ten minutes, you’ll come to the famous Tassilo Linden, where Simon almost broke his neck. Anyone who wants to check that there is, in fact, a plaque with a riddle up in the tree should be warned. There’s a hornet nest up there!

So it might be best to move along to…

Yes, the holy relics of Primus and Felicianus really do exist! Though not-as during the Thirty Years’ War-standing upright with swords in hand and crowns of laurels on their skulls. Instead, you’ll find they’re almost invisible among the richly carved reliquaries up front in the chancel. Try to find them amid all the cherubs, stuccowork, and statues! It took me a while-with the help of a kind nun.

The other relics that the superintendent, Michael Piscator, mentions were also in the monastery’s possession at that time: St. Binosa’s teeth, St. Mary’s hair and fragments from her robe, as well as relics of Pancratius, Blasius, Valerius, Virgilius, Johannes, Philippus, Bartholomew, Thekla, and Brigida…And those are only a small fraction of the treasures.

For anyone overwhelmed by all the Baroque splendor-the gold and stuccowork of the former Augustine monastery church-I recommend leaving the church through the little gate at the rear of the property. From there it is a beautiful walk down to the Ammer Gorge-past trees, cows, and little chapels. God can be found everywhere in the Priests’ Corner.

Then follow me along to…

The grand finale! At first I wanted the novel’s final scenes to unfold at Schleyer Falls, but then I happened on an old monastery floor plan dating from 1803 that showed a playhouse. A theater in a monastery! After that I couldn’t resist devoting a final scene here to my antagonist, in the truest sense of the word.

The playhouse is now in private hands and no longer has much in common with my concept of a monastery playhouse. The library, the secret subterranean passageways, and Magdalena’s prison in the chapel are all inventions. I’m sorry. I recommend you just sit down with a glass of Weißbier (a type of German wheat beer) in the little tavern nearby, close your eyes, and just imagine the rest. What I can show you, however, is the Romanesque cloister connected to the church where Simon met Abbot Augustin Bonenmayr for the first time. (That is the actual name of the abbot at that time. The correct spelling of his last name has pursued me like a curse.) There is also a St. John’s Chapel that, in fact, stood at another location originally. And naturally, there is a Guelph crypt directly beneath the church, its entrance decorated with a gravestone whose inscription I quoted in the book. I didn’t dare try to raise it up. Who knows? Perhaps there are secret tunnels down below!

If you’re looking for the Steingaden Wies Church (Wieskirche), the pearl of Bavaria’s Baroque period, you will search my book in vain. It wasn’t constructed until the eighteenth century, but you ought to visit this magnificent place just the same.

One final tip: A wonderful bike route runs some distance off the main road through Peiting, Rottenbuch, and Steingaden-a day trip I recommend to everyone. There is no better way to get to know the Priests’ Corner. On my trips by bicycle, car, and on foot, gathering material for this book, I discovered many other places that didn’t make it into this novel-crooked wayside crosses, chapel ruins, impenetrable forests, deep gorges, and magnificent churches, as well as cairns, crossings, and secluded ponds. Each place has its own story to tell.

And who knows, maybe they’ll appear in another novel.

Enjoy your reading and bon voyage!

– OLIVER PÖTZSCH