The Dark Monk by Oliver Pötzsch, Lee Chadeayne Read Free Book Online

confess, it doesn’t make any sense to me, either,” Simon said, turning the marble slab over in his hands. “But it seems important, or it wouldn’t have been placed here in the coffin. No sword, just this slab…”
    His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of steps in the neighboring room. Someone was descending the stairway! Suddenly, seized with panic, Simon reached down for the femur on the ground and held it out like a club in front of him. The hangman stood alongside him gripping the silver candelabra even tighter in his right hand. Both waited for the steps to come nearer. Finally, a face appeared in the entrance—an exceptionally pretty face.
    It was Magdalena, closely followed by another woman with red hair and a pale face. Each held a votive candle in one hand and seemed less frightened than surprised at seeing the two men before them.
    “What in all the world are you doing down here, Simon?” Magdalena asked. “And what in God’s name do you mean to do with the bone in your hand?”
    Embarrassed, Simon placed the bone back in the coffin.
    “That’s a long story,” he began. “It would be best for us to go upstairs.”
    Up above, outside the portal of the St. Lawrence Church, a dark figure crouched behind one of the snow-covered, lopsided gravestones, cursing softly. He had come too late! Obviously, the fat priest had already talked. There was no other way to explain how the quack doctor had been able to find the crypt so fast. And now two women knew the secret, too, as did this big, broad-shouldered fellow. Things were getting out of hand. He would have to ask around and find out who these people were and whether they were dangerous. Especially threatening was this grim-looking giant who was always smoking a pipe. The man could sense that. Something about the giant troubled about him. Pearls of sweat crept across his forehead like little bugs.
    Hectically, he pulled a little glass phial from under his black cassock and dabbed a few drops on his neck and behind his ears. The enchanting fragrance of violets wafted through the cold air, and at once the stranger felt safe and unassailable again. He doubted that these simple people had found more down there than he and his allies had, but just to be sure, he would keep a close eye on them from now on. Maybe he would be able to learn more about this bear of a man who reeked of tobacco.
    Like a dark shadow, the figure emerged from behind the gravestone and slinked away. Only the sweet fragrance hovered in the air for a while, and then it, too, was gone.

2
     
    W ITHOUT SAYING A word, the hangman, Simon, and the two women climbed up the narrow stairway from the crypt. When they got to the main room of the rectory, Magdalena stared expectantly at Simon and only then did he begin to tell his story. But after just a few words, he hesitated. In all the excitement, he had forgotten to ask who the beautiful woman was sitting next to Magdalena. She was not someone from the village—that much was certain. Magdalena noticed his questioning gaze.
    “I didn’t introduce you yet,” she said. “This is Benedikta Koppmeyer, the sister of Father Koppmeyer. She is looking for her brother.”
    Jakob Kuisl, who until now had been puffing glumly on his pipe, began to cough. His face was hard to make out behind thick clouds of smoke. Embarrassed, the medicus looked to one side. After a short while, Benedikta began to speak.
    “What about my brother? There’s something going on. I can see it in your faces.”
    Finally, Simon pulled himself together and began to speak hesitantly. “Well, your brother is…how shall I say—”
    “He’s dead,” Kuisl interrupted. “Dead and gone. Pray for him. He will need it.” Having said this, he stood and went outside. The creak of the door seemed to resound through the house for a long time as Simon struggled for words.
    Benedikta Koppmeyer’s face, already pale, seemed to become even more diaphanous as she stared at