The Hangman's Daughter

She took him by the arm and drew him onto the dance floor, which was built out in front of the stage. Closely embracing, they danced to the music of a slow folk dance. Simon felt the other pairs draw away from them, but he didn’t care. He looked into Magdalena’s dark eyes and felt himself sinking into them. Everything around merged into a sea of lights with them in the very middle. Worries and dark thoughts were far away. He could only see her smiling eyes, and slowly his lips approached hers.

Suddenly a shape appeared in the corner of his eye. It was his father hurrying toward him. Bonifaz Fronwieser gripped his son hard by the shoulder and turned him around to face him.

“How dare you?” he hissed. “Can’t you see how the people are beginning to talk? The physician with the hangman’s wench! What a joke!”

Simon tore himself free.

“Father, I must ask you…” he tried to calm him down.

“No!” snapped his father and pulled him a little away from the dance floor, without even casting a single glance at Magdalena. “I order you…”

Suddenly Simon felt himself engulfed in a black cloud. The severe trials of the past few days, the deadly fear, the worry for Magdalena. He pushed his father violently away from him, causing the astonished man to gasp. At this very moment the music stopped, so that his words were clearly audible to all the bystanders.

“You’ve no right to give me orders! Not you!” he panted, still out of breath from dancing. “What are you anyway? A dubious little field surgeon, an opportunistic yes-man! Purging and piss smelling, that’s all you can do!”

The slap hit him hard on his cheek. His father stood before him, white as a sheet, his hand still raised. Simon felt that he had gone too far. But before he could apologize, Bonifaz Fronwieser had turned away and disappeared into the darkness.

“Father!” he called after him. But the musicians struck up again, and the couples resumed their dancing. Simon looked at Magdalena, who shook her head.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said. “He’s your father, after all. My father would have knocked your head off for that.”

“Has everyone here something against me?” Simon mumbled. The brief moment of happiness between himself and Magdalena had evaporated. He turned away and left her standing on the dancing floor. He needed a mug of bock beer.

On his way across to where the beer barrel was set up on its trestles he passed the aldermen’s table. There sat the patricians in cozy familiarity: Semer, Holzhofer, Augustin, and Püchner. The Landgrave had gone over to his soldiers to see if everything was all right. At last the patricians had the opportunity to talk about the coming days and weeks. They anxiously put their heads together and the clerk Johann Lechner sat firm as a rock between them lost in his own thoughts.

Simon stopped and from his position in the shadows observed the scene in front of him.

It reminded him of something.

The four patricians. The clerk. The table…

His head was hot from dancing. The efforts of the previous night still ached in his bones. He had already drunk two mugs of beer at home. He needed a moment before it came to him.

But then he felt as if the last stone of the mosaic had been put into its place.

They had simply not listened properly.

Hesitantly, Simon turned away. The parish priest was sitting alone at a table a little farther back and was observing the dancers. His expression alternated between disapproval and relaxation. As a representative of the church he could not of course approve of this wild, heathen activity. But he was obviously enjoying the warm night, the flickering flames, and the rhythm of the music. Simon went over and sat down beside him, not waiting for an invitation. The priest looked at him in surprise.

“My son, you’re not coming to confession now, are you?” he asked. “Although…as I have just seen, you certainly seem to be in dire need of it.”

Simon shook his head.

“No, Father,” he said. “I need some information. I think I just didn’t listen properly the last time.”

After a short conversation Simon stood up again and returned thoughtfully to the dancers. On the way there he had to pass the aldermen’s table once more. Abruptly he stopped.

One seat was now empty.

Without stopping to think, he hurried to a house at the edge of the marketplace. Behind him the sounds of laughter and music faded. He had heard enough.

Now he must act.