The Hangman's Daughter by Oliver Pötzsch, Lee Chadeayne

want?”
    The man from the town was not content with this. Angrily he shook his head, the thin index finger of his right hand rising and falling. “And the others?” he hissed. “There were five! Three boys and two girls. What about the others?”
    The stranger gestured dismissively.
    “We’ll get them too,” he said and turned to go.
    The other hurried after him.
    “Damn! It wasn’t supposed to end like that!” he cried and gripped the stranger hard by the shoulder, an action he regretted in the next moment. A muscular hand seized him by the throat in a viselike grip. In the stranger’s face white teeth suddenly glistened and he smiled. A wicked smile.
    “Are you afraid?” he asked quietly.
    The man swallowed and noticed how difficult it was to breathe. Just before all went black the stranger let him go and flung him away like some annoying animal.
    “You are afraid,” he repeated. “You’re all alike, you big, fat, rich people.”
    The man gasped and retreated a few steps. After straightening his clothes he felt in a position to speak once more.
    “Finish the matter quickly,” he whispered. “The children mustn’t squeal.”
    Once again he saw the flash of his partner’s teeth.
    “That will cost you a bit more.”
    The man from Schongau shrugged. “I don’t care. Just get it done with.”
    For a moment the stranger seemed to be thinking. Finally he nodded. “Give me the names,” he said quietly. “You know them, so how about the names?”
    The man swallowed. He had only seen the children briefly. Nevertheless, he thought he knew who they were. Suddenly he was overcome by the feeling that he was standing on the threshold of something. He could still draw back…
    The names came tumbling out before he could think about it anymore.
    The stranger nodded. Then he turned abruptly and in just a few seconds had vanished into the darkness.

CHAPTER
3
    W EDNESDAY
A PRIL 25, A.D . 1659
S EVEN O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING
    J AKOB KUISL WRAPPED HIS COAT TIGHTLY AROUND him and hurried along the Münzgasse, being careful not to step into the garbage and excrement piled up before the entryway of each house. It was early in the morning, the streets were enveloped in fog, and the air was damp and cold. Directly above him a window was opened, and somebody poured the contents of a chamber pot into the street. Kuisl cursed and ducked away as the urine splashed to the ground alongside him.
    As Schongau’s executioner, Jakob Kuisl was also responsible for the removal of refuse and sewage, a task that he performed on a weekly basis. Soon he’d be wandering through the lanes with his handcart and shovel again. But today there was no time for it.
    Right after the ringing of the morning bells at six o’clock, the town jailer had shown up at Kuisl’s house to tell him that Johann Lechner wanted to see him at once. Kuisl could guess what the court clerk might be wanting. The murder of the boy had been the talk of the town. Rumors of witchcraft and diabolical rites spread faster than the odor of excrement in a small town like Schongau.
    Lechner was known as a man who made fast decisions, even on complicated matters. Moreover, the town council would meet today, and the notables would be eager to know the basis of the rumors.
    The hangman had a powerful hangover. Last night Josef Grimmer had been at his place to collect his son’s body. The man seemed almost a different person from the Josef Grimmer who had nearly clubbed the midwife to death a few hours before. He bawled like a baby, and only Kuisl’s homemade herbal spirit was able to settle him somewhat. And the executioner shared a couple of glasses with him…
    Jakob Kuisl turned to the right into a narrow lane and headed toward the ducal residence. In spite of his headache he had to grin, because the proud title of “residence” couldn’t quite live up to what it promised. The building before him looked more like a hulking, run-down fortress. Not even the oldest