The Play of Death
Peter still didn’t know why Kaiser had become so angry or what the strange words meant that both the schoolmaster and Jossi knew. It had to have something to do with the old documents on the table, and it must be unrelated to the Passion play. To Peter they seemed to be enigmatic descriptions of how to find a buried treasure. By now he had also been able to figure out the meaning of the other Latin passages.
Where you see this sign, you will find many gold nuggets, said one entry alongside a drawing that looked like a bishop with his miter and staff. There was another symbol that looked like a double rectangle next to the scribbled words: The downward path leads to concealed secrets.
Peter was choked with fear as Kaiser’s fingers crawled like spiders through his hair and finally grabbed him by the scruff of the neck.
“I asked if I can trust you, Peter,” the schoolmaster said in a soft but firm voice, “and you haven’t answered yet. So what do you say? Can I trust you?”
Peter nodded hesitantly, and immediately the grip loosened. Then Kaiser sat down alongside him and smiled wearily. It was so strange—now he once again seemed like a kindly old grandfather.
“That’s good, Peter,” Kaiser said. “Very good, because I don’t want to have to hurt you. I’d much rather tell you a story, the same one I told your father, though I left out the last part. Would you like to hear it, Peter?”
Again, Peter nodded silently. Georg Kaiser took a deep breath, and then he began his tale.
“Once, a long time ago, little people came to our beautiful Bavaria from the far side of the Alps. They were looking for ore and minerals used in making blue glass and bright and shining mirrors. But they also prospected for gems, gold, and silver. They were called the little Venetian men, boogeymen, or simply dwarfs. They weren’t the kind of dwarfs you find in fairy tales, but simply short little men, hardworking miners. They had certain abilities that no others in the world did. They could actually smell the gold buried underground, as if it were truffles.”
Kaiser chuckled gleefully, like a small child, before continuing in a gentle voice. “Whenever they found something valuable, the Venetians marked the way to their treasure with secret symbols so they might find it again—the sun, moons, rectangles, monks . . . Here in the valley there are also such signs pointing the way to a treasure, a great treasure, Peter. Ever since childhood I’ve dreamt of finding it.”
“The Malenstein!” Peter gasped. “I’ve seen signs like that there—Jossi told me about them, the eagle that utters its cry with both heads . . .”
Kaiser recoiled, as if struck by a heavy blow. “That’s . . . that’s something he shouldn’t have done, that bad boy. I’ll have to punish him for that.” He shuddered, then continued. “Yes, there are signs like that on the Malenstein, but also in many other places here in the valley, and a huge treasure awaits the person who can interpret them. It is said there’s so much gold and silver in the mountains around the Ammer Valley that thirty mules would not be able to carry the burden. The signs say it. But they are often concealed and hard to read. Many people around here have tried to find the secret treasure. There are old mines all around the Weißenstein, and in other places where people have dug for these precious minerals. But no one has ever been able to find them.” Kaiser gave a conspiratorial wink. “Because no one has the knowledge I do. But I still don’t know where to dig.”
Peter trembled and pointed at all the documents on his desk. “Do you mean . . . this knowledge?” Now Peter thought he understood why the schoolmaster had spent so many long nights brooding over the papers. What interested him so much was not the text of the Passion play, but something quite different.
Kaiser nodded. Reverently, he ran his fingers over the yellowing, tattered documents. “What you see here are the remnants of ancient Walen books—that’s what they call the books with the secret drawings the Venetians left behind. I found them many years ago in the cellar of the church in Oberammergau when I was a young cantor looking around for sheet music and hymn books. Since then I can’t get the Walen books out of my mind.” The schoolmaster’s voice suddenly rose in a crescendo and his eyes bulged. “They’re like a curse! It seems like every sentence in them conceals a new secret. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been in search of these secrets, and I know I shall someday find the Venetians’ treasure. I’m almost there.” The man lowered his voice and spoke in an almost pleading tone. “But for that I need my little dwarfs to go into the mines for me. I myself am too old and sick to do it. But you children can.”
“You send Jossi, Maxl, and the others into these mines to search for your treasure?” Peter asked hesitantly. Slowly he began to realize what his friends had been keeping from him, why they always looked so pale and tired, and why they’d had to go away with Hannes the day before. “And how about Joseffa?” he asked. “Is she . . . ?”
“Why are you worried about Joseffa?” Kaiser suddenly screamed. “That stupid brat wasn’t paying attention. The mines are dangerous, after all. I can’t allow her parents to gossip about what happened, not now, when we have almost reached our goal. So she’ll stay up in the mountains a bit longer. Didn’t I always teach these boys and girls in my school free of charge?” he pleaded. “Wasn’t I always good to them, and can’t I expect at least a little humility and patience in return?” He patted Peter on the arm. “But rest assured that Joseffa is being well cared for—Hannes assured me of that. And in a few days, when we have our treasure safely in hand, she can return to her family. This time, we have found the right mine. All the signs point to it, and surely I’ll soon hear that my little dwarfs have finally found the treasure.”
Restlessly, Kaiser looked over at the shutters, where the light of dawn was slowly appearing between the slats. “Any moment now, Hannes should be back,” he said with a nervous twitch. “I wonder where he is. I hope nothing has gotten in the way again. Spies are everywhere . . . and they want to steal my treasure. Your father and grandfather also ask too many questions.”
Suddenly, a terrible thought flashed through Peter’s mind. “These gruesome murders recently,” he whispered, “do you have anything to do with them? Did the man on the cross, and the others, know about the mines, too?”
Kaiser tilted his head to one side and scrutinized the boy from head to toe. “Smart lad, aren’t you? But don’t worry about that. I’m—” Suddenly he was shaken so violently by a coughing fit that his saliva splattered onto the parchment documents. To Peter’s horror, the saliva was bloodred.
Georg Kaiser clung to the top of the table, and it was a while before he’d recovered. “Do you understand now, boy, why I finally have to uncover the secret of the Venetians?” he gasped. “I’m . . . I’m dying. But first I’m going to find that accursed treasure, I swear. It’s been haunting me all my life. I simply have to get my hands on it.” He rose to his feet and paced the floor, constantly turning to look toward the door. “Just where is Hannes?” he mumbled. “Tonight they were searching far back on the right side of the mine, and all signs say this is the right place. I finally decoded all the signs correctly, and all I needed were these final clues. The treasure is there—it must be.”
Some cows mooed out in the barn, a rooster crowed somewhere in the distance, but otherwise silence reigned. Georg Kaiser sat down again and took Peter’s cold, trembling hands. The boy felt like death itself had reached out to him.
“You’re a bright lad, Peter,” Kaiser said, “just like your father. I always liked him, and I like you, too, but damn! I just don’t know if I can trust you.” Suddenly tears welled up in his eyes. “I almost have it, do you understand? If you betray me now, all these greedy Oberammergauers will run off into the mountains and take what belongs to me, what I’ve been seeking for such a long time. I could threaten the other children—I told them I’d expel them along with their families from the valley if they ever revealed my secret, that I’d turn Würmseer and the other council members against them, but I can’t threaten you, Peter. I can only take you at yo
ur word.” Kaiser looked the boy straight in the eye, their faces almost touching, and Peter thought he could smell his disease, a bitter smell like that of burned milk. “Tell me, Peter,” he whispered, “can I trust you?”
Peter nodded silently as the schoolmaster stared at him with empty black eyes, little drops of blood still clinging to his lips. For a while, silence prevailed.
“Give me your word of honor, Peter,” Kaiser begged, “that you won’t tell anyone, not even your father. Promise.”
Peter still didn’t know why the old man suddenly appeared so terrifying. It was like in a dream, Kaiser seemed bewitched. Peter was so frightened he couldn’t speak a single word, his lips were sealed, and he simply stared at the schoolmaster, who began shaking his head sadly.
“You leave me no choice, Peter,” Kaiser whined. “I have to make sure you keep silent—at least for the next few days, then it will all be over.”
He nodded emphatically before continuing. “The old bear cave is the best choice. There are a few small rooms in the back where no one will hear you. Of course, we’ll have to tie you up, but I’ll tell Hannes to bring you something to eat every day, and I’ll have a candle put in there for you, as well. It probably won’t last longer than a week, and then . . . Hey!”
Peter had jumped up and was about to run for his life. He couldn’t help thinking of the nightmare he’d had that night, and the idea of being locked for days in a dark cave almost drove him crazy. He tried to reach the door, but Kaiser grabbed him and pressed him down onto the floor with his long, gout-swollen fingers. Peter flailed about like a wild beast driven into a corner. He tried to crawl forward toward the door, but Georg Kaiser was unyielding.
“Don’t . . . make . . . such a fuss!” he panted. “Think of the treasure. We all have to make sacrifices.”
Peter tried to scream, but Kaiser held his hand over the boy’s mouth. Despite his frail health the old man managed with his other hand to slip his belt out through the loops of his housecoat and quickly started tying Peter up.
“I swear I didn’t want to,” he mumbled as if in a trance, “but nothing else can go wrong tonight. Not so close to the end.”
As the first rays of sunlight crept over the mountains, Jakob ran, panting for breath, along the slippery path to the Kofel, where the cry had come from. Poxhannes had to be somewhere up there with the little girl. No doubt he planned on hiding among the rocks as the hangman ran past.
Jakob’s head still throbbed from the blow he’d received, and his heart was pounding, but he ran as fast as his legs would carry him. When he’d heard the child’s cry for help, he realized that God had given him a second chance. For the last two years, the hangman had been drowning all his grief over the death of his beloved wife, as well as the anger at his son, Georg, leaving them, in wine, beer, and liquor. He had nearly drowned in self-pity. It had taken that earthquake here in the Ammer River valley to shake him out of his lethargy.
He had actually left the evening before in search of the woodcarver Xaver Eyrl, but then he had come across these sad, lost children up here, and one of them was now facing death. Jakob had to agree with young Maxl, who said Poxhannes would probably take out his anger on the little girl. The cry earlier was like a plaintive cry from heaven to lead him back onto the straight and narrow path. All his life he had tortured and killed people, and now he was being called on to save a life.
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, he thought grimly.
Despite the tension, he felt strangely light and free as he continued running toward the summit. On the left, the slope fell off precipitously, but now it was light enough for him to see the path. Occasionally he ran past flat stones piled up to make little towers called cairns to mark the way. A cold wind was blowing and diaphanous clouds whirled all around him, gradually dispersing.
After a while, the path ended suddenly at a flat area just below the summit. Jakob looked around and discovered nearby a path leading back down into the valley. A second, barely visible path led upward, between massive boulders. He went a few yards up the trail, then frowned. Was it possible for Hannes to climb up here with the little girl? It seemed more likely he would have chosen the path that went down.
He was about to take the trail down when he noticed a scrap of green cloth hanging on the branch of a dwarf pine. He reached out for it and rolled it between his gnarled fingers. The girl, Joseffa, had been wearing a forest-green skirt, though it was badly soiled. No doubt Hannes had been dragging her along behind him and the skirt had gotten hung up on the tree—so they really were somewhere up on the summit.
Jakob groaned. He had never told anyone, but if there was one thing he hated even more than open water under a boat, it was deep chasms. Every time he looked down into an abyss he was overcome with vertigo, and his legs began to tremble like those of a hysterical old woman. He almost hated Poxhannes more for making him climb this high peak than for hitting him on the back of the head.
Panting hard, he struggled up the path. The fog was parting now, revealing a sheer cliff falling at least five hundred feet with a large field of debris at the bottom. The hangman’s eyes were riveted straight ahead. The path led past the rock wall, rising gently at times, and at other times more steeply, but always upward. In places it looked as if someone ages ago had cut steps in the rock, but they were possibly also of natural origin.
Jakob’s shirt was drenched with fog and sweat, as if he’d jumped into a deep, cold lake, and the air was turning cooler. He took a few final, cautious steps before reaching the summit—or at least what he thought was the summit. The fog up here was so thick he could hardly see his hand in front of his face. The wind tugged at his hair and beard, but except for the sound of the wind and the squawking of a few Alpine crows, there was nothing but silence. Had he missed something?
After some hesitation, the hangman decided to act.
“Joseffa!” he shouted into the fog. “Are you here somewhere?”
A muffled cry came from somewhere nearby.
“Joseffa!” he shouted again, but this time there was no reply.
Jakob cursed under his breath and sat down, exhausted, on a rock. In the dense fog, Hannes and his hostage could be almost anywhere. Perhaps he’d just thrown her over the cliff as unnecessary ballast.
He was about to call a third time when God sent him another miracle. Or perhaps it was just the wind that sometimes took strange turns so high in the mountains. It suddenly changed direction and blew the mist away like the tuft of a dandelion, and instantly the summit was bathed in the warm red light of the morning sun.
Hannes and the child were standing only about fifty feet away.
Together with Magdalena, Simon hurried through the dusky lanes of Oberammergau toward the schoolmaster’s house. He doubted that Georg Kaiser would already be awake at this early hour. But what he’d learned in the church made him run faster instinctively. Priest Tobias Herele was anxious almost to the point of going mad. It had taken some time to get the necessary information from him, but in the end, the priest helped them, no doubt because of his guilty conscience at being silent for so long. Simon ground his teeth and ran even faster. There were some things he’d have to clear up with his old friend, things that couldn’t wait.
Especially since his son Peter was in Kaiser’s care.
Simon was not so much worried about Peter’s welfare, but what he’d learned had troubled him. Magdalena, too, running along beside him with her robes blowing in the wind, was anxious. She was still suffering slightly from the fever and the exhaustion of the last few days, but she insisted on accompanying him to Kaiser’s house.
“I still can’t believe it,” Simon panted. “I’ve known Georg for so long. Perhaps there’s a reasonable explanation for all this.”
“No matter what the explanation is, my son won’t stay one minute longer in that house,” she replied, completely out of breath from running. “At least not until we know more about all this.” She stumbled and nearly fell in th
e wet, muddy street, but Simon caught her at the last moment.
“Don’t you just want to stay in the tavern and wait for me until—” he started to say. She looked at him angrily, and abruptly he fell silent. He sighed. When his wife had set her mind to something, nothing would change it, not even illness. Magdalena had in any case been irritable and nervous recently, and even before her near drowning in the Ammer she’d been pale and had to sit down often.
She couldn’t be very ill, could she? Simon wondered with growing anxiety. Perhaps I should give her a thorough examination. But then he saw Magdalena’s determined expression and decided to put it off for the time being.
The cattle were lowing in the barn, a few shutters started opening, and soon the Oberammergauers would rise and begin their day’s work as if nothing had happened the night before. Through the windows of some houses, Simon and Magdalena could see kindling being lit, or a fire already blazing in the stove, but the schoolmaster’s house was still dark. On closer examination, Simon could see light slipping through the cracks of the shutters in a room downstairs; he signaled to Magdalena.
“It looks as if the old man is still sitting there brooding over the Passion play,” he whispered. “It was no doubt a hard blow for him when the play was canceled.”
“Or he’s up to something else,” Magdalena answered softly.
Simon was about to hurry to the door and knock, but Magdalena took him by the sleeve and held him back.
“First I want to know what’s really going on in there. What we learned in the church worries me.” She tiptoed up to the shutter and peeked through the crack. Suddenly she let out a muted cry, and a moment later ran toward the entrance and threw herself against the door. It flew open and Magdalena raced down the hall toward the main room.