Read Online The Poisoned Pilgrim: A Hangman's Daughter Tale by Oliver Pötzsch - Free Book Online Page A

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 crashmade 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