The Werewolf of Bamberg by Oliver Pötzsch Read Free Book Online

area. But Adelheid knew a secret clearing where she’d picked some of the flowers the year before. Now she hoped to find a few despite the late-autumn season.
    Again she heard the howling of the wolves and realized, with a trembling heart, that it was closer this time. Did wolves really venture so close to town? Adelheid couldn’t help but think of the people reported as missing in Bamberg over the last few weeks. Two women had disappeared without a trace, and old Schwarzkontz had not returned from a trip to Nuremberg. All that had been found so far was a severed arm and a leg gnawed on by rats that showed up in the Regnitz River. Rumors were already going around that the devil was at work in Bamberg, especially since someone recently had seen a hairy creature in the alleyways at night. Until now, Adelheid had always dismissed these reports as exaggerated horror stories, but out here in the dark forest, she began to think there might be some truth to them.
    Firmly grasping the straps of her wicker backpack, where she’d already collected some other herbs, she started to run. She didn’t have much farther to go. On her left she could already see the moss-covered fallen oak that served to mark her way, and a few hawthorn bushes glimmered reassuringly in the moonlight. Brushing the thorny branches to one side, Adelheid caught sight of the clearing. She took a deep sigh of relief.
    Finally. Thank God.
    In the silvery moonlight she soon discovered the plants she was looking for on the opposite side of the clearing. The fruit capsules had already burst open, but they still exuded a faint odor, like exotic spices. As Adelheid approached the medicinal plants, she quickly put on the thin linen gloves that she’d brought in her backpack along with a leather pouch. The seeds of the fraxinella, she knew, were so poisonous that one must wear gloves to pick them. The oil that dripped from them in midsummer could easily catch fire, which is why fraxinella was also called burning bush. In late autumn only bits of the fruit capsule remained on the withered stalks, but Adelheid didn’t want to take any chances. Carefully she picked the few remaining seeds and put them in the little pouch, whispering a few Ave Marias, as old Frau Traudel had instructed her.
    “. . . and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus . . .”
    The apothecary’s wife made one last quick sign of the cross and stood up. She was about to close the pouch when she heard the howling again.
    This time it was very close.
    Shocked, Adelheid looked around. Something dark was lurking right behind the hawthorn bushes, which were trembling in the autumn wind. It was an indistinct form close to the ground, pulsating slightly, with a pair of red eyes shining in the darkness.
    What in the world . . .
    The woman wiped the sweat from her brow, and suddenly the red eyes disappeared. Was her imagination playing tricks on her?
    “Is someone there?” she asked hesitantly, peering into the darkness. When there was no answer, Adelheid mumbled another prayer, then, holding tightly on to the purse, ran across the clearing, making a wide detour around the hawthorn bush. The Tanggass Gate in the east wall was more than a mile away, but long before that the trees thinned out and there were little villages. If Adelheid hurried she could quickly reach the partial safety of the road, where perhaps there might be some travelers even at this late hour. Everything would be fine.
    For a moment she thought she heard panting and growling, but when she reached the deer path leading toward the road, all she could hear were the sounds of her own hurried footsteps. In the distance an owl was screeching, sounding almost as if it were laughing at her. Angrily, Adelheid shook her head.
    Silly, superstitious woman! If your husband saw you like this . . .
    As she ran along, she felt angry at herself for being so foolish. How could she have been scared so easily? No doubt it was only a deer hiding