The Werewolf of Bamberg

EPILOGUE

ST.MARY’S, THE UPPER PARISH CHURCH ON THEKAULBERG, BAMBERG,NOVEMBER 7, 1668 AD

The bells of St. Mary’s Church rang out loud and clear that Wednesday morning for the newly wedded Bamberg executioner and his bride. There was a slight drizzle, and fog drifted through the streets, but it couldn’t dampen the spirits of the attendees.

Hand in hand, Bartholomäus and Katharina stood under the stone canopy in the so-called bridal entryway where, for ages, couples had exchanged their vows. The fact that a dishonorable hangman was permitted to do so had much to do with the influence of the bishop of Würzburg. Johann Philipp von Schönborn had left the city two days earlier but, at Simon’s request, had put in a good word with the priest there, and thus the church wedding was finally permitted-though not on Sunday, the holy day. Beneath the famous sculptures of the wise and foolish virgins, the priest had placed rings on the fingers of the couple and pronounced his blessing.

Magdalena, Simon, and the other wedding guests stood at the foot of the church stairway. The boys’ trousers were more or less clean, and for this festive occasion Simon had borrowed a fresh shirt from his friend Samuel. Magdalena fanned herself as she watched her aunt in her low-cut dress standing proudly under the canopy, looking like an aging blond cherub. Though it was clear she was still mourning the loss of her father, at that moment joy seemed to prevail.

On hearing of her father’s death, Katharina had at first collapsed and wept all night. The next morning, however, she arrived, pale and red-eyed, at Bartholomäus’s house and in a firm voice consented to the marriage. That was four days ago.

“My father would have wanted it this way,” she said, looking lovingly at her future husband. “Life goes on, and Father never wanted me to spend the rest of my life as a bitter old maid. I’m sure he’s looking down on us from heaven and sending us his best wishes.”

Bartholomäus thought it prudent not to tell her how her father had actually died, and he also spared her from hearing that almost their entire fortune had been bought with the blood of the Haan family. Things were bad enough for her as it was.

“I don’t think Bartholomäus has anything to complain about,” Jakob muttered as he stood beside Magdalena at the foot of the stairway. In his brother’s honor, he’d worn a fresh shirt and even put away his stinking pipe. “Katharina is maybe a bit fat, but her heart is in the right place,” he said, studying his sister-inlaw like a cow for sale in the market square. “If she’d just stop that constant puttering around, cleaning and moving furniture. . Bartl will have to cure her of that. It’s enough to drive you crazy.”

Magdalena grinned. “I think a woman in the house would do wonders for you, as well,” she said with a wink. “Who knows, perhaps you’ll find someone in Schongau who can put up with you.”

Kuisl let out a dry laugh. “God forbid. You and Barbara are almost more than I can take. Why would I need another female around who can’t keep her mouth shut? Torture on the rack is a pleasure compared to that.”

Magdalena was ready with a fresh answer, but at that moment the couple started down the wide staircase, and the small party of wedding guests broke into applause, which Bartholomäus acknowledged with a nod. He was clearly proud-before him, no Bamberg executioner had ever been permitted to step through the bridal portal.

“If Bartholomäus gets puffed up any more, he’ll fly away,” Jakob growled, spitting on the ground.

“What did we say? No nasty words on the wedding day.” Magdalena glared at her father. “You don’t have to marry your brother, after all. Katharina is doing that. And tomorrow we’ll be on our way home.”

Jakob Kuisl grumbled something incomprehensible into his beard. They had decided to leave right after the wedding reception, as Jakob, and especially Simon, were anxious to get back. The hangman’s house and the bathhouse had been empty for far too long, and Simon had complained more than once about how the new doctor in town would be taking his patients.

After a last look at the church, Magdalena joined the small, motley crowd marching through the streets of Bamberg in the direction of the city moat. Now that the scheming suffragan bishop was no longer able to interfere, the city councilors had allowed Katharina and Bartholomäus to celebrate in the wedding house after all.

But surprisingly, Katharina had changed her mind and decided to have a small party at the executioner’s house. After the death of her father, such a big party no longer seemed appropriate to her. Perhaps, though, she had also come around to the realization that it was more important to celebrate with a few real friends than with a crowd of almost-total strangers who would just start gossiping afterward and, in any case, were only interested in the wine and the meat patties.

Together they crossed the City Hall Bridge on their way to the Green Market, which on this foggy Wednesday morning was not nearly as busy as on market days. The few people who passed them in the street stared with a mixture of fear, disgust, and respect. Ever since the soldiers had carried the dead werewolf into town a few days ago and had told the first horror stories, rumors had swept the city. A short, traveling scholar, well versed in the field of alchemy and magic, was said to have shot the beast with a silver bullet-the only way to kill a werewolf. Others claimed to know that the Bamberg executioner himself had cast a magic spell and then quickly strangled the beast. And some spoke of a giant stranger, evidently the brother of the executioner, practiced in the art of transmutation, who had vanquished his greatest enemy in an epic battle.

Almost no one spoke of the dead Jeremias or Markus Salter. Adelheid Rinswieser also kept her silence, even though her husband and other meddlesome busybodies urged her to speak. All she would say was that the werewolf had dragged her off and cast a spell on her. Magdalena had come to know Adelheid as a strong woman, and she was certain the apothecary’s wife would remain silent for the good of the city. Since then, there hadn’t been any arrests, and even the actors were released after it turned out there weren’t any witches among them after all. Evidently, the influence of the enlightened elector was far-reaching, and Magdalena assumed that one or more of his contributions for the building of the Bamberg bishop’s palace had a role to play in that.

Bartholomäus never gave the slightest hint that his dear Brutus was involved in any of this, and only once did Magdalena notice a tear in the corner of his eye. The dead beast remained on the gallows, but soon nothing much was left of him, due in part to time and weather, but primarily to the many superstitious citizens who came to the gallows hill at night looking for scraps of fur, teeth, and claws.

The procession turned left into the lane along the moat and soon reached the tumbledown home of the executioner.

Katharina had gone to lots of trouble to decorate it as festively as possible, with mistletoe and ivy branches over the front door; fragrant, dry flowers along the walls; and fresh reeds on the floors. There was a fragrance of braised meat, onions, and dumplings in the air. Hungrily, the guests helped themselves to the food. Laughter was heard in the house, and quarreling; the boys raced whooping through the rooms; and somewhere there was the sound of a glass breaking. Magdalena cut into a steaming dumpling, smiling inwardly. It was like every other family party, and a chance visitor would never suspect he was in the house of an executioner.

He’d find a mix of guests gathered around the large table. In a back corner sat the ragpicker Answin-who in honor of this festive day had actually taken a bath-and Berthold Lamprecht, the tavern keeper of the Wild Man, who appeared to be enjoying an animated conversation with him. When Lamprecht had heard the news of Jeremias’s death, he paid a decent sum to assure a respectable burial for his old custodian. The former Bamberg hangman now rested in the city cemetery next to St. Martin’s, not far from the gravestone marking the spot where his former fiancée was buried.

At the far end of the table sat the hangman’s servant, Aloysius, silent as always, enjoying Katharina’s roast. And even the old furrier arrived and was once again telling the story of how Jakob had bought the fox skin from him for Katharina’s wedding dress.

“Believe me, I would have advised badger fur,” he announced to everyone, though no one seemed to be listening. “By God, the badger fur makes you look like a king. But no, he said it had to be fox. And then Georg came later and bought all those stinking hides from me. God knows why the boy wanted them.” He shook his head, then took a spoon and, smacking his lips, spread caraway seeds on his spicy sausage.

Magdalena had to grin, watching how her father’s face flushed with anger and shame on hearing the furrier’s story. Jakob still hadn’t completely gotten over how the actor Markus Salter, disguised in a beard and a floppy hat, had gotten away from him while he himself foolishly fell into the river.

Next to the furrier sat Georg, talking to his twin sister. At that moment she laughed out loud. Apparently she had recovered well and, except for a few scars, would have little lasting damage from the horrors in the old hunting lodge. The burn blisters would heal, and her beautiful black hair would grow back. In the meantime she was wearing a trim head scarf. Georg, however, appeared grimmer than ever, though perhaps older and more mature. The wolf trap had injured him more than they’d first thought, and he would probably always limp a bit, making him look astonishingly like his uncle. Just the same, Georg had decided to return to Schongau after one more year as an apprentice in Bamberg, in order to one day take his father’s position.

Magdalena wanted to speak with Simon about that, but he was talking shop with his friend Samuel about some new theory of blood circulation, which practically put Magdalena to sleep. Not until the discussion turned to the Bamberg suffragan bishop did she sit up and take notice again.

“Harsee is still as stiff as a board,” Samuel was saying. “But his eyes look at you full of hate. It’s really strange. Perhaps he’s not really conscious anymore. I hope he isn’t, for his sake; that would be hell for him.” He sighed. “I give him some water from time to time, but his body shrivels up more and more every day. I think he has only a few days left, and the Bamberg bishop is already planning his funeral.”

Simon shook his head sadly. “It’s really terrible there’s no cure for rabies. I hope very much that the learned doctors will find one someday.”

“Let’s not give up hope,” Samuel replied. “After all, it took Harvey a long time to gain acceptance of his theories on the circulation of blood. Even good old Galen. .”

The conversation turned once again to veins and arteries, and Magdalena turned to her father, on her left, who was chewing sullenly on his meat patty.

“I’d really like to have a good pipe now,” he grumbled between bites. “With lots of smoke so I’d no longer see this bunch of blabbering people.”

“Don’t forget you promised Katharina not to smoke in her house today,” Magdalena admonished him. “And that tobacco really smells bad. It’s enough that you stink up everything at home in Schongau.”

Kuisl grinned and picked his teeth. “You sound just like my Anna, God bless her soul. Do you know that?”

Magdalena changed the topic. “What ever became of Bartholomäus’s other two dogs?” she asked. “He certainly can’t keep the alaunts now that people think Brutus was a werewolf.”

“Aloysius thinks Bartl found a buyer for the beasts, some nobleman in Franconia with a large dog kennel.” Kuisl shrugged. “My brother will certainly get a pile of money for the animals, and perhaps then he can buy himself an even bigger house-or his citizenship, the old show-off.”

Magdalena sighed. “Now enough of that, Father. Anyway, you wanted to have a beer together and talk, you and Bartholomäus. You promised me you would.” She looked at him, pleading. “So how about it?”

Jakob poked sheepishly at the dumpling on the plate in front of him. “Hm. . well. . we had a big fight about the venue for the wedding party, then we both went our separate ways and got drunk. I doubt Bartholomäus and I will be getting together anytime in this life.”

“Oh, don’t talk such nonsense. You don’t have to hug each other every day, but it isn’t asking too much for you to make peace with one another. Even if it’s just for Katharina’s sake.” Magdalena nodded toward her aunt, sitting proudly alongside her bridegroom, looking out over all her illustrious wedding guests. On her left, her cousin, who was just as fat, was taking one of Bartholomäus’s veterinary books from Peter’s greasy little fingers. “She doesn’t want any quarreling in the family,” Magdalena said softly. “So pull yourself together and have a talk with him before we finally leave town tomorrow.”

“I don’t know. .,” Jakob grumbled.

“You’ll do that, by God, or I swear I’ll clean up the living room and move the furniture around every day.”

Jakob groaned. “Now you’re really just like my Anna. All right, I promise, but leave me alone now.”

Grinning, Magdalena turned to her two boys, who were begging for some more doughnuts spread with honey. Just as she was leaning down to them, there was a knock on the door.

“Well? Who could that be?” said Katharina with surprise. “I’m not expecting any more guests.”

“Perhaps it’s the bishop himself,” Berthold said with a laugh. “I think he owes all of you here a big thank-you.”

Shaking her head, Katharina got up, and when she opened the door she let out a loud shriek of delight.

“Good Lord-Matheo! And your esteemed director himself, if I’m not mistaken. Isn’t this a surprise!”

Barbara, blushing, quickly jumped from her seat, wiping the gravy from around her mouth.

In the doorway stood Sir Malcolm, who, with his tall, haggard stature, had to stoop in order to enter the low-ceilinged room. He was followed by the delicate, diminutive Matheo, who still looked rather battered after the beatings in the Old Residence, though the welts on his face would no doubt heal in the weeks and months to follow. Just the same, he smiled brightly.

Sir Malcolm had used powder on his own face to try to cover the many bruises that he’d suffered in the dungeon, and with his wig he looked like a sad image of a decadent Parisian courtier, carrying a bouquet of dried autumn crocuses, which he handed to Katharina with a deep bow.

“Before we take our leave forever from this glorious city, we wish to pay our humble respects to the beloved bridal couple,” Malcolm said in his usual flowery language. “My lady, I am profoundly indebted to you for having taken in one of my principals and returned him to health.”

“Anyone would have done the same,” Katharina replied, embarrassed, as she accepted the flowers. “But I thought you had already left the city.”

Malcolm waved dismissively. “There’s a lot for us to do first. Our equipment was badly damaged in this whole affair. No, we’re still camped outside the city walls. It’s safer there now that this, uh, werewolf has finally been destroyed.” He grinned mischievously, and Magdalena could see that one of his incisors was missing since she’d last seen him in the Bamberg dungeon.

“When we finally have all our provisions together, we’ll head for Würzburg,” he continued with obvious pride, though with a slight lisp due to the new gap in his teeth. “The Würzburg bishop and elector himself invited us. We’ll perform in his palace and be a real sensation.” He straightened up to his full height, like a giant scarecrow, and spread his arms out theatrically. “Sir Malcolm’s troupe will be famous in the whole Empire, and soon everybody will have forgotten Guiscard. What did Shakespeare say? ‘All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.’” He winked at Katharina. “Or, as it says in another passage: ‘Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage.’”

“I never doubted that in the least,” said Katharina, pointing to the last two remaining chairs. “But please, take a seat and eat and drink with us.”

Malcolm peered at the steaming meat cooking on the hearth and licked his lips.

“I believe we do have a bit of time. Matheo, what do you think?”

The young man winked at Barbara, then let Katharina fill his plate, along with Malcolm’s.

Magdalena leaned across the table and looked intently into the eyes of her younger sister. “So tell me, you and Matheo. .”

But Barbara waved her off. “You don’t have to act like it’s such a secret,” she said with a shrug. “Matheo and I had a heart-to-heart talk yesterday. I was with him all night out in the actors’ camp, and-”

“You were with him all night?” Magdalena had trouble controlling herself. “Good heavens! What does that mean, and why am I just learning about this?”

Barbara looked at her peevishly. “Now you’re sounding like Mother.”

“Strange,” Magdalena mumbled, “somebody else just said the same thing to me. But go on. What were you doing with Matheo out at the actors’ camp?”

“Well, we said good-bye, that’s all, and nothing more.” Barbara hesitated. “I think our relationship is. . platonic. Matheo told me what that means-that we love each other in one way, but in another way we don’t. Anyway, I can’t imagine spending my life wandering around, even though Sir Malcolm told me again yesterday that I really have talent.” She looked severely at Magdalena, but then her face softened. “When I ran away and hid in the castle garden after that horrible event in the theater, I felt more alone than ever before in my life,” she said softly. “I realized I need my family more than I thought.”

Magdalena smiled. “Well, someday you will probably get married and have a family.”

“Yes, but there’s plenty of time for that still, and until then I’d like to spend time with all of you.” Barbara leaned back and looked at the chattering, quarreling, laughing crowd, then winked at her older sister.

“We’re basically a great family. God knows, life with us will never be boring.”