The Werewolf of Bamberg by Oliver Pötzsch Read Free Book Online Page B

father, then his twin sister, Barbara, and finally Magdalena. Then he picked up the two shrieking boys and tossed them into the air one after another.
    “Uncle Georg, Uncle Georg!” Paul shouted excitedly. “Will you whittle another executioner’s sword for me?”
    “An executioner’s sword?” Georg asked, perplexed.
    “I told him how you always used to whittle swords,” explained Simon, sitting off to one side. “You know how kids are. I’m afraid they won’t stop pestering you until they both have swords.”
    Georg grinned, set the boys down, and shook Simon’s hand. “They’ll get some, on my honor as a dishonorable hangman,” he said with a conspiratorial glance at Paul. “And if you behave yourself, you can also touch your great-uncle’s sword. It’s even bigger than the one your grandfather has.”
    “As if that’s all that mattered,” Jakob growled. “I can slit open a throat with a kitchen knife.”
    “Can’t you men talk about anything else?” Magdalena said, shaking her head. “Swords, nothing but swords! At least Peter inherited his father’s peaceful temperament. Just one like you men is all I can take.” She sighed and gestured at little Paul, who had just stabbed his brother in the stomach with an imaginary sword.
    Simon smiled and put his arms around Peter, who had started to cry.
    “Peter is only five, but he can read,” he said in a proud tone of voice. “Latin and German, and even a few Greek letters. I taught him myself, and with the medicines—”
    Jakob finally spoke up. “Can’t you even invite your old father to come in, Georg? It’s a chilly autumn night, and I think we’ve stood outside here in the fog long enough. But if you prefer, I can sleep at an inn.”
    “Of course not, Father.” Georg stepped aside and ushered the family into the living room.
    The warmth from the green tiled stove in the corner made Magdalena quickly forget the damp cold and fog outside. The room was homey and neat. Fresh, fragrant reeds were strewn on the floor, and a wide, recently built table provided room for an entire large family. Behind it was the family shrine, with a crucifix, dried roses, and the Bamberg hangman’s execution sword. It was, in fact, a little larger than Jakob’s sword. Paul started to run over to touch it, but Georg laughed and grabbed the tails of the boy’s shirt to pull him back.
    “You’ll be holding it in your hands soon enough,” he said, trying to appease the boy. “Why don’t you let Barbara take you up to your room instead? It’s time for you to go to bed now.”
    Barbara rolled her eyes and took the two boys, yawning and only slightly protesting, up the steep stairs to their room. Soon, they heard the soothing sounds of a lullaby.
    For a while, none of those in the room said a thing, but then Georg reached for the mighty executioner’s sword and held it out to his father. “The handle is sharkskin,” he said proudly. “When the hangman’s hands are sweaty, the leather becomes as raw as a thousand little teeth. It won’t slip out of your hands. As far as I know, only Bamberg executioners have such swords. Try it.”
    Jakob shrugged and turned away. “When his hands are wet, it can mean only one thing. The hangman is shitting in his pants—and an anxious hangman is worth about as much as an old toothless whore.” He turned around and inspected the room. “But I must say, there have been some changes since my last visit. Bartholomäus really has done well. Who would have thought that pale, nervous little kid would have turned out this way?”
    “Just wait until he marries Katharina,” Georg replied. “His last wife came from a family of knackers. Dear Johanna, God rest her soul, died of consumption. She didn’t bring much money to the marriage, and there were no children.” He sighed softly, then straightened up. “But this time he has a good catch. His new wife is the daughter of a Bamberg court clerk, the dowry is pretty