The Poisoned Pilgrim_A Hangman's Daughter Tale Page 6

  Just like me once, Kuisl thought. He’s almost as old as I was then in the war. My God, now my own boy has to get me out of this jam. Jakob, you’re getting old…

  “Run, Father,” Georg shouted. “Now!”

  Jakob shook off his gloomy thoughts, clasped his grandchildren, and ran off. All around him the stones were still raining down. When he saw a shadowy form lunge at him, he picked up his foot and kicked his attacker, a young carpenter’s journeyman, with full force in the groin. The man collapsed, groaning, just as another attacker raced toward Kuisl. The two young children in his arms were screaming now like stuck pigs. Kuisl hugged them tightly, bent down, and butted the journeyman right in the stomach; then he stood up again and ran. Behind him Hans Berchtholdt shouted as he was struck by another stone. “You’ll pay for that, Kuisl,” Berchtholdt shouted furiously. “You and your whole clan! Just one word to the city council, and I’ll take care of your two snotty little brats.”

  In just a few minutes the hangman had left the dock area and arrived at the Lech Bridge, where two unsuspecting Schongau guards were standing, halberds in hand. They turned to watch the fast-approaching hangman; it appeared they had no idea of the fight going on behind the warehouse.

  “My God, Kuisl,” one of them cried. “You’re running like the devil is on your heels.”

  “Not the devil, just the Berchtholdt gang,” the hangman panted. “You’d better have a quick look at what’s going on behind the warehouse, before the Augsburgers start asking where their wheat is.”

  Then and there, Kuisl decided not to let his grandchildren out of his sight again.

  As Simon left the Andechs Monastery, he remembered with a start the herbs for Magdalena. He fumbled for the full leather pouch on his belt with the medicinal plants inside, then he hurried as fast as he could down to the village. He only hoped Magdalena hadn’t notice how long he’d been away or he could no doubt expect trouble.

  When he got to the knacker’s house, he was surprised to find it empty. Only a few ragged goats were grazing in the little yard in front of the cabin, and the door stood wide open. Neither Michael Graetz, his helper, nor Magdalena was anywhere in sight.

  “And I told her three times to lie down and rest,” Simon muttered, perplexed. “Stubborn woman.” Inwardly he prepared for a strong tongue-lashing.

  After hesitating briefly, he decided to go back up to the monastery, where he might find Magdalena in the church or at the building site. Looking up, he saw a new group of pilgrims just arriving at the gate, where they were greeted by one of the monks and given a blessing. Singing and praying loudly, the pilgrims slowly made their way up to the monastery with their candles, where they no doubt planned to visit the church first. Because the Festival of the Three Hosts was only a week away, some people had already arrived and were crowding the narrow roadway.

  To avoid them, Simon hurried along the wall until he found another open gate closer to the forest. Here, too, there were a number of barns—cows mooed, somewhere a pig grunted, and everywhere there was an odor of manure and beer mash. To the left of a well-worn path stood a neat little stone house that, with its freshly whitewashed walls and quaint garden of poppies and daisies, seemed out of character with the dirty farm buildings. Behind it, a steep stairway led up to the monastery.

  Just as Simon was about to start up the stairs, a loud crash made him turn quickly and he saw a cloud of smoke emerge from behind one of the shutters of the stone house. Something must have exploded inside.

  Without hesitating, the medicus ran toward the front door and pushed it open. Black sulfurous clouds billowed toward him, making it impossible to see.

  “Is… is everything all right?” he called uncertainly.

  He heard coughing, followed by a grating voice. “It’s nothing to worry about,” came the reply. “I probably used a pinch too much gunpowder, but as far as I can see, no harm is done.”

  When the smoke drifted out the door, what emerged was the strangest room Simon had ever seen. Along the sides were rough-hewn tables with all kinds of strange instruments piled on them. On the left, Simon saw a silver chest with a number of gear wheels turning inside it. Alongside it was the arm of a white porcelain doll, whose head at that moment was rolling across the table, bumping finally into a ticking pendulum clock decorated with tiny silver nymphs. The doll’s face glared at Simon wryly; then its eyelids closed and it seemed to fall asleep. Dozens of strange metal parts lay on the tables farther back, their nature and purpose a mystery. Though it was broad daylight outside, the closed shutters allowed not a ray of sun into the room, which stank of sulfur and burned metal. Large parts of the room were still obscured by the smoke.

  “Step right in,” said a voice from the midst of the cloud. “There is nothing to be afraid of in this room, not even the stuffed crocodile hanging from the ceiling—a genuine rarity from the land of the pyramids, by the way.”

  The medicus looked up to see a wingless green dragon with a long tail hanging from a cord and turning slowly in a circle. The monster’s glass eyes looked down at him indifferently.

  “My God,” Simon mumbled. “Where are we? At the entrance to hell?”

  Someone laughed. “Rather to paradise. Science opens doors undreamt of by those who don’t close their eyes to them. Come a bit closer so I can see with whom I have the pleasure of speaking.”

  Simon groped his way forward in the dim light until he saw the outline of a person on his right. Glad to have finally found the strange owner of the house, he turned and reached out his hand.

  “I must say, you gave me quite a shock…” he started. But suddenly he stopped and his heart skipped a beat.

  The figure in front of him was a woman. She was wearing a red ball gown, and had put up her blond hair in a bun as had been the fashion at court several hundred years before. Though she smiled at Simon with her full red lips, her face seemed lifeless and as white as a corpse. Suddenly her mouth opened wide and from somewhere inside her body came a soft, tinny melody.

  It took Simon a while to realize what he heard was a glockenspiel. Tinkling and jingling, invisible hammers played the notes of an old love song.

  “You… you… are…” he stammered.

  “An automaton, I know. I’m sorry I can’t offer you the company of a real woman. On the other hand, Aurora will never turn into a cranky old shrew; she’ll remain forever young and beautiful.”

  At this point a little man stepped out from behind the life-size doll. Startled, Simon realized this was the same crippled monk who’d been arguing with Brother Johannes just a few hours ago. Simon tried to remember the monk’s name. The abbot had mentioned it in the abbot’s study. “What was it? Brother…?”

  “Brother Virgilius,” the little hunchbacked man replied, reaching out one hand while supporting himself with the other on a walking stick decorated with ivory and a silver knob. A shy smile passed over his face. “Haven’t we met before?”

  “This morning in front of the apothecary’s house,” Simon murmured. “I was there to pick up some herbs for my wife: anise, artemisia, and silverweed for stomach pains.”

  A shadow passed over the face of the wizened little man. He was probably over fifty, but everything about him seemed as delicate as a child. “I remember,” he said in a monotone. “I hope Brother Johannes was able to help your wife. He’s no doubt a good apothecary, just a bit… short-tempered.” Again a smile spread over his face. “But let’s talk about something more pleasant. Do you speak Latin? Are you perhaps a friend of the sciences?”

  Simon introduced himself in a few words, then pointed to the strange devices all around. “This room is the most fascinating place I’ve ever seen. What is your profession, if I may ask?”

  “I’m a watchmaker,” Brother Virgilius replied. “The monastery gives me the option of pursuing my profession and at the same time… uh… experimenting a bit.” He winked at Simon. “A few moments ago you were the unintentional witness of a reenactment of von Guericke’s Magde
burg hemispheres experiment.”

  “Magdeburg hemispheres?” Simon looked at the little monk, puzzled. “I fear I don’t quite understand.”

  Casually, Brother Virgilius pointed to a soot-stained copper globe the size of a child’s head resting on a charred table behind him. “The fascinating power of a vacuum,” he started to explain. “In an experiment carried out at the Reichstag in Regensburg, the inventor Otto von Guericke put two halves of a hemisphere together and pumped the air out, forming a vacuum. Sixteen horses weren’t able to pull the hemispheres apart again. It’s not even possible with the destructive force of gunpowder.” He sighed. “Quod erat demonstrandum. My lily-livered assistant fled up to the attic before the explosion. Vitalis? Viiitaaalis!” The little monk pounded his cane impatiently on the floor until a shy young man appeared from an adjacent room. He was probably not even eighteen yet and so delicate in stature that Simon at first took him to be a girl.

  “This is Vitalis, a novitiate at the monastery,” Brother Virgilius introduced him brusquely. “He seldom says a word, but his fingers are so slender he can place even the smallest gear in a clock mechanism. Isn’t that right, Vitalis?”

  Shyly, with downcast eyes, the novitiate bowed. “I do my best,” he whispered. “Is there something I can do, master?”

  “If you weren’t here to observe the experiment, then at least make yourself useful afterward,” Virgilius growled. “I’m afraid we’ll need a new table. Go and see if Brother Martin has another in his carpentry shop.”

  “Very well, master.”

  With a final bow, Vitalis left, and the monk turned again to Simon. “What do you think of my Aurora?” He pointed at the automaton. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  Simon furtively eyed the doll still standing motionless beside him and smiling. Only now did he notice little wheels under the dress where feet should have been. “Indeed, a… a miracle of technology,” he murmured, “even though I must confess I still prefer real people.”

  “Balderdash! Believe me, the day will come when we won’t be able to distinguish between real people and automata.” Brother Virgilius hobbled around the doll and turned a screw in Aurora’s back, until the soft melody returned. The automaton opened its mouth and rolled through the room as if drawn by invisible threads. In the darkened room, it looked in fact like a refined lady dressed for a fancy ball in Paris.

  “The glockenspiel, the mouth, and the wheels are driven by watch springs and cylinders,” the monk declared proudly. “At present I’m working on making the hands moveable, as well, so Aurora can dance a bourrée. Who knows, maybe someday she’ll be able to write letters and play the spinet.”

  “Who knows?” Simon whispered. The longer he looked at the automaton, the more sinister it seemed. As if he were watching a vengeful spirit floating through the dark room.

  “And the monastery?” he asked hesitantly. “What does the church say about your experiments?”

  Brother Virgilius shrugged. “Abbot Maurus is an enlightened man who can easily distinguish between faith and science. Besides, the monastery benefits from my abilities.” With a blissful smile he watched the doll make a wide circle through the room, bells tinkling. “But of course, there is also resistance.”

  “Brother Johannes, I assume?” asked Simon curiously.

  “Brother Johannes?” The little monk turned away from his automaton and stared at Simon in disbelief.

  “My apologies,” replied the medicus, raising his hand, “I saw you both engaged in that violent dispute this morning.”

  After a moment, Virgilius’s face brightened. “Of course. Johannes. You’re right. As I’ve already said, he’s an impulsive man who sometimes lacks the necessary vision. We’ve argued frequently in the past,” he continued, lowering his eyes, “but this time I almost feared for my life. Johannes can be very hot-tempered, you know, which may have something to do with his past.”

  “What kind of past?” Simon inquired. At this moment the glockenspiel stopped. An ugly squeal came from inside the automaton, and Brother Virgilius rushed over to it.

  “Curses,” he hissed. “Probably a loose screw again in the clockwork. Can’t you just for once run smoothly without breaking down, you stubborn woman?”

  He undid the back of Aurora’s red dress, revealing an iron plate. Mumbling softly to himself, he extracted a tiny screwdriver from beneath his robe and began to unscrew the plate on the doll’s back. He seemed to have completely forgotten Simon in an instant.

  “It… it was nice to have met you,” Simon mumbled, smoothing his jacket with his hand. “I’ll probably have to…”

  “What?” Virgilius looked Simon up and down as if he were a stranger who’d just entered the room. “Oh, naturally. The pleasure was all mine, but now please excuse me; I have a lot to do. Damn!” Again he bent to inspect the automaton’s back, and Simon turned to leave.

  Stepping outside into the blinding bright sunlight, the medicus had to shield his eyes. He could still hear the mumbling watchmaker inside.

  Moments later the soft melody of the glockenspiel began again.

  Magdalena sipped on a cup of mulled wine and tried to come to grips with the terror of the last hour. Still trembling slightly, she leaned back on the hard corner bench and from there observed everything going on in the monastery tavern, which she’d entered on a whim.

  At the noon hour, the inn at the foot of the Holy Mountain was packed: A few richly clad merchants had ordered a boar’s leg with white bread, and its fatty juice dribbled down their beards and chins. A group of pious pilgrims sat together in one corner over a steaming bowl of stew. Smoke from tobacco and a wood fire hung heavily over the tables, and the air was full of the humming and buzzing of many conversations.

  After her fall from the tower, Magdalena had to first answer worried questions from Jakob Schreevogl, the carpenter Hemerle, and a few other workers. The unexpected ringing of the bells had upset everyone on the building site, among them Brother Johannes, who eyed the hangman’s daughter distrustfully. For that reason, she told the astonished men she had just climbed the tower out of curiosity and had slipped. She still didn’t know whether the ugly monk had anything to do with the incident in the tower. Was it possible Johannes himself was the hooded stranger who had pushed her off the belfry?

  As she came staggering down the hill from the monastery, Magdalena saw a sign over the tavern door painted invitingly with a wine glass and entered without hesitation. Just as she was about to pour herself another cup of wine, she spied Simon in the doorway. The medicus looked around until he spotted Magdalena in the crowd.

  “So this is where you’re hiding out,” he cried with relief when he reached her table. “I’ve looked for you everywhere. Weren’t you going to wait at the knacker’s house until I came back with the herbs?”

  “Aha, and when was that going to be?” she replied angrily. “When pigs fly? I waited, but you never came back.” She pointed to the pitcher of mulled wine on the table. “In any case, this medicine does more good than all the marjoram, vervain, and mint in the Priests’ Corner put together. They put so many herbs in the wine here that you get better just smelling it. Now sit down and listen to what happened to me.”

  She briefly told him of the bizarre things she saw up in the tower and the stranger who had pushed her off the platform.

  “A stretcher with metal clamps along the side and a thick wire?” Simon replied. “What in God’s name could that be?”

  “I have no idea. In any case, nothing that anyone’s supposed to find out about—or this fellow in the robe wouldn’t have tried to throw me from the belfry.”

  “How do you know he really wanted to throw you from the belfry?” Simon asked. “Maybe you just startled him up there, and he was trying to flee.”

  “Are you telling me I just imagined all that?”

  Simon raised his hands apologetically. “I just don’t want us to jump to any false conclusions, that’s all.”

  Magdalena lowered her
voice and looked around furtively. “If you ask me, that ugly monk Johannes has something to do with it. Do you remember the strange look he gave us yesterday when I told him about the light up in the tower? And do you remember the large sack he was carrying?”

  Simon frowned. “Yes, why?”

  “There were iron rods inside just like the ones I saw up in the tower, only a bit smaller.”

  “That’s right.” The medicus tapped the table nervously. “There’s something fishy about that monk, but he can’t have been the man in the tower. Johannes was with me and the abbot at that time.”

  “You went to see the abbot?”

  Simon sighed. “You’re not the only one who saw some strange things. If we keep going like this we’ll get involved in another messy story and your father will give me a talking-to for not keeping a better eye on you. In any case, by tomorrow the bishop wants a report from me about a possible murder.”

  Excitedly he told Magdalena of his experiences in the apothecary’s house, the abbot’s study, and the house of the strange watchmaker. After he finished, the hangman’s daughter just sat there silently for a long time, then picked up the clay pitcher and poured herself another cup of wine.

  “An automaton that’s a woman and has a glockenspiel instead of a heart.” She shuddered. “You’re right—this watchmaker Virgilius is really a strange character. An atrocious idea that one can make a doll come to life.”

  “It’s not really so strange,” replied Simon. “I’ve heard that in Paris and Rotterdam there are a lot of automata like that—singing birds, life-size drummer boys, tiny black men who strike the bells… In the Hanseatic City of Bremen, they say there’s even an iron watchman who raises his visor to the merchants and salutes.”

  “Just the same, I prefer real people.” Magdalena suddenly frowned and nodded toward the door. “Well, in most cases.”