“Magdalena!” Simon called after her. “What in God’s name . . .” Without finishing his sentence he stormed in after her. Whatever it was she’d seen, it must have been something horrible. A gnawing suspicion came over him that something might have happened to Peter. He ran after his wife down the hall and into the main room.
What he saw there made his blood freeze.
His old friend Georg Kaiser was kneeling alongside the table, which was piled high with old parchment documents, and at his feet lay Peter, with his hands and feet tied. Kaiser had stuffed scraps of paper in the boy’s mouth, and his face had already turned blue.
“Peter, Peter!” Magdalena screamed as she rushed at Kaiser and started pummeling him with her fists. “Let him go, you monster! Let him go at once.”
But the schoolmaster was as if in a trance, stuffing more and more paper into the boy’s mouth.
“I must . . . do this,” he mumbled. “He must not betray me, not when we’re so close to the end. The treasure . . . my treasure!”
“Simon, do something!” Magdalena shouted.
Simon threw himself onto Georg Kaiser, who fell against the table with all the documents, causing it to tip over with a loud crash, and only then did Kaiser turn away from his victim, as sheets of paper flew in all directions.
“I . . . didn’t mean to harm him,” he gasped. “But why did he have to resist me? Why can’t he realize how important this is? Stupid boy . . .”
Panting and coughing, Peter lay among the yellowed, partially torn sheets of paper, struggling for breath. Magdalena bent down to pick the scraps of paper out of his mouth, then she untied the ropes and took her son in her arms.
“Everything is all right now,” she whispered. “Your mother and father are here with you now, my love. All is well.”
“He didn’t promise!” Kaiser wailed as he lay among the pieces of the smashed table, coughing in fits. Then he struggled to his feet, and walked around picking up the tattered documents with trembling hands. “What shall I do now? He will tell all the greedy Oberammergauers about my treasure. I . . . I just wanted to put him away for a few days in the old bear cave. He would have been fine, just like all the other girls and boys. I wanted nothing but the best for them.”
“Good Lord, what are you saying, Georg?” Simon asked, wiping the cold sweat from his brow. Secretly he suspected that he already knew what his friend meant.
I was right, and the priest was speaking the truth.
“The Walen books,” Kaiser said as he continued picking up the documents from the floor. “I must save them. They are the only ones left and they must not be lost.”
Abruptly Simon took his old friend by the shoulders, turned him around, and slapped him in the face. Kaiser shook, but his gaze became a little clearer. Suddenly he began to cry and collapsed into Simon’s arms. “I am so sorry,” he whimpered. “I don’t know what came over me. It’s that treasure . . . It’s driving me crazy!”
“I think it did that a long time ago,” said Simon. He took the documents from Kaiser’s hands and led him carefully to the bench in front of the stove, where the old man settled down listlessly. He was coughing hard, and now for the first time Simon saw the spots of blood on his jacket.
Consumption, he thought. I should have noticed it earlier. It’s already gotten to his lungs and he hasn’t much longer to live.
Consumption was one of the worst plagues in human history, and it had spread more and more in recent years. Victims literally wasted away as bit by bit they spat out pieces of their lungs. Only God could help them. Kaiser’s sunken cheeks, his rattling cough, and above all the bloody saliva indicated he’d been suffering for a long time and was probably beyond help. Simon could only hope that Peter hadn’t been infected by the old man.
Magdalena, in the meantime, had sat down with Peter as far away from Kaiser as possible. She rocked her son on her lap and cast angry glances at Kaiser. “Monster,” she hissed. “My father, the hangman, will put you on the wheel for this, starting at the bottom and working his way up—the most painful way.”
Kaiser laughed dryly and convulsed into a new fit of coughing. “The hangman won’t have to torture me and kill me,” he finally gasped. “My sickness will do that all by itself. All I wanted was to find the treasure I’ve been looking for all my life.”
“We went to see Tobias Herele, Georg,” said Simon as he inspected some of the documents more closely. “He told us that you send workers’ children to the mines to help you, but nobody actually knows what you’re having them do there, not even Herele, though he said it had been going on for a long time. He’s right, isn’t he? You force them to work for you.”
Kaiser nodded, seeming almost relieved it was all over now. “They . . . are my little dwarfs,” he replied with a weary smile. “The word force sounds a bit harsh. I was always good to them.”
“Really?” Simon’s voice was now ice cold as he looked at his old friend with disgust. “Magdalena and I went through the church registers for the last few years that contain all the records of births and deaths, and do you know what stands out? There are so many children from poor families who died under very strange circumstances. Often the records mention accidents during work in the forest or from avalanches. Some of the children were simply listed as missing and never found again—Markus and Marie, for example. They were just eight years old when they died. You buried them up on the Döttenbichl, didn’t you?”
“It wasn’t me, it . . . it was Hannes,” Kaiser said as he clapped his hand to his forehead. “He told me they’d died in the mine from falling rocks. They were unfortunate accidents, I swear.”
“The priest confirmed that all these dead children came from your school and worked for you,” Simon said coolly. “What a remarkable coincidence. The children who died or disappeared were working for my old friend, and in the eight years since your return to Oberammergau there were almost a dozen of them.”
Simon pointed angrily at Kaiser, who was staring down at the floor. “And that’s how I found out it was you. I kept asking myself what didn’t seem right in the story of Markus and Marie, and then in the Schwabenwirt tavern it came to me. You said you didn’t know the two children, and that they’d disappeared far before your time. But Markus and Marie vanished just three years ago, and you’ve been here much longer than that. You knew them well, Georg, better than most of the other children. The priest said you took special care of them. I asked myself why my old friend was lying to me.”
“They were all accidents,” Kaiser wailed, burying his face in his hands. “Accidents! I cried my eyes out over poor little Marie, and Markus, too.” He nodded energetically. “The mountains are dangerous, especially the Kofel, that old demon. And in return I took the dear little ones into my school free of charge.”
“How kind,” Magdalena replied wryly. “What a tradeoff—school lessons in exchange for the chance to slave and die. And now you almost got my son.”
“I just wanted to silence him for a while,” Kaiser shrieked. “Peter is bright. He has read the Walen books and figured out what my dear, hard-working dwarfs are doing, but he didn’t promise me he’d keep his mouth closed.”
“The books are about treasure,” Peter said hesitantly, sitting in his mother’s lap. His breathing was still labored, but at least his face wasn’t as blue as it had been just a few minutes ago. He was trembling all over. “Jossi and the others are probably up in the mountains now,” he whispered. “I saw them leaving with Poxhannes last night.”
Simon picked up a few of the papers on the floor and glanced at them. Slowly it came to him what they said. “The Venetians,” he finally mumbled, “I remember. You told me about them, Georg, back in the graveyard. Do you really believe there is some kind of treasure here in the valley?”
“Ha! Not just some treasure, but the greatest treasure of all time.” He suddenly laughed again, as if nothing had happened. “Believe me, Simon. When I was a little boy still living here in the village, m
y mother used to tell me about the little men from Venice and their treasures. I have never forgotten, and when I’d finished my studies in Ingolstadt and returned to Oberammergau, I found these old texts in the cellar of the church. It was a stroke of destiny.” He pointed to the yellowing sheets of parchment on the floor. “They come from the Walen books. God knows how they ever got there—perhaps some treasure-seeker donated them to the church. And ever since then, they’ve been haunting me, Simon. I’ve lost my wife, I am dying now myself, and my whole life was not much more than the stuffy, gray life of a schoolmaster. The Walen books and the treasure are the only two things still left to me.”
“And do you really believe these bizarre lines will lead you to the treasure?” Simon asked suspiciously. He read a passage at random: “With a hand like this, gold can be found . . . Take the black dog along and let him guide you.” He shrugged. “It all sounds very mysterious, doesn’t it?”
“Exactly.” Kaiser laughed. “They are symbols and riddles, Simon. Don’t you understand? Only I can read them, and I am about to lift the veil of secrecy. For years I’ve been digging in the old mines and caves around here in search of this treasure.”
“Not you, the children,” Magdalena said bitterly. “You’ve forced them to work for you, and accepted their deaths as the cost.”
“But . . . but I love them just the same,” Kaiser persisted. “The children mean everything to me, my hard-working little dwarfs. I didn’t kill any of them.”
“Perhaps not directly, but slowly and insidiously you sucked out their life and let them die, which is almost worse,” Simon replied. He walked over to Kaiser and bent down to him. “Furthermore, you are responsible for the death of Dominik Faistenmantel,” he said softly. “You are a cold-blooded murderer, Georg. You just don’t want to admit it.”
Kaiser recoiled as if he’d just taken a heavy blow. “So . . . you know,” he said, trying to avoid Simon’s eyes. Suddenly he seemed very small and weasel-like, and Simon was overcome with disgust at his old friend.
He nodded. “And I knew from the start that something was not right here, Georg, even back when you brought me out to see the stage in the graveyard. But I couldn’t say what it was. But today, as I was thinking of Markus and Marie, even more things came to me that just didn’t make sense. For example, the pulley.”
Kaiser looked at him, astonished. “The pulley?”
“Well, the first time I stepped out onto the stage in the graveyard, I said no one person could lift that cross by himself. You concurred, even though as director you knew, of course, that there was a pulley for the cross. You wanted to divert attention from yourself.” Simon shook his head. “I even saw the pulley then, as well as later during the rehearsals. It was lying atop a pile of ropes on the stage, right next to the wheelbarrow. That, too, betrayed you.”
A mischievous smile passed over Kaiser’s face. “So you noticed? Together with Hannes I took the unconscious Dominik in the wheelbarrow from my house to the graveyard, and in the excitement I just left it there.” He frowned. “Unfortunately, I had to let Hannes in on it, as I could never have done it myself. Ever since, that greedy fellow has been demanding a larger share of the treasure. He can go to hell, along with all those greedy Oberammergauers.”
“Later, I saw the wheelbarrow in your garden,” said Simon. “If I had looked for wheel tracks that first night, I’m sure I would have found them leading from your garden to the graveyard.” He laughed bitterly. “But who would suspect a good friend, one who is also weak and sick and therefore would never be considered as the culprit? Nevertheless you played it safe and planted that incriminating page of text on poor Hans Göbl.”
Simon leaned down and glared at Kaiser. “I assume that Göbl took those pages along with the bundle of papers when he left your house on the night of our arrival. Am I right? At the inquest you made sure this page and the argument between the two were mentioned.” Simon turned away in disgust. “You planned this cold-blooded murder, Georg, in such a way as to deflect all suspicion from yourself. You used me, and I almost fell into your trap.”
“He found out,” Kaiser cried. “Dominik Faistenmantel came to my library that evening to discuss his role as Jesus. I left him there alone for a few moments and he discovered the Walen books on a shelf. He wanted to know about them and kept asking questions.” The schoolmaster lowered his voice so much that it almost sounded like the growling of a dog. “He wanted part of the treasure in order to start a new life far from Oberammergau. We started to fight, and I hit him with the poker—it all went so fast, I lost control . . .” He hesitated. “Just . . . just as I did a moment ago when I attacked your son . . .” He shook his head, unable to continue. He cast a pleading glance at Magdalena, who was rocking Peter in her arms, avoiding any eye contact with the old schoolmaster.
“You and Hannes took the unconscious Dominik out to the graveyard in the wheelbarrow,” Simon continued. “You suspected he was not yet dead and couldn’t bear the thought that he knew your secret, so you unclothed him, tied him to the cross, and hoisted it up with the pulley. Am I right?”
“By God, you are!” Kaiser laughed bitterly. “I thought it was an appropriate end for Jesus in the Passion play. I took his clothes and threw them in the stove here. Shortly before dawn I returned to the graveyard, as I realized I had taken things too far. Dominik had to die. So I climbed up to him on the ladder just to make sure he was already dead. I removed his gag to make it all even more mysterious.” He smiled as if he’d pulled off a practical joke. “I knew of course that there had been arguments about his role in the play and thought it was a splendid idea to let these quarrelsome Oberammergauers bash one another’s heads in over it.”
“No one suspected you, the kindly old schoolmaster who also lost his star in the play when Dominik died. The murder was well staged, worthy of a theater director, and a perfect diversion. Even I was fooled.” Simon shivered. “It must have been a painful death up there on the cross, just like the death of our Savior, but this time with no resurrection.”
“Dominik threatened me,” Kaiser snarled. “He was going to extort money from me and tell everyone if I didn’t share the treasure with him. I had to act.”
“And so you simply killed him,” Magdalena said. “Georg Kaiser, you are a murderer and a monster, and my father will soon deal with you.”
For a long time, no one said anything. It seemed that for the first time Kaiser understood the havoc he’d wreaked over all these years. He lowered his head and sobbed, coughing from time to time.
“For a long time my father-in-law and I have wondered what the connection was between all these murders,” Simon said finally, shaking his head in disbelief. “The answer is there is no connection at all. The murder of Dominik Faistenmantel had nothing to do with the other crimes. Urban Gabler was killed by Sebastian Sailer because he was going to expose the salt smuggling. Sailer must have followed him out onto the moor. Then Sailer killed himself out of despair, because now he was a murderer.” Simon laughed dryly. “A simple murder motivated by greed, and a tragic suicide, but along with Dominik’s crucifixion and the earthquake in the valley, enough to set off wild speculation about strange supernatural events. But all the legends and tales were almost enough to drive me crazy, too. Usually the truth is so trite by comparison.”
Kaiser raised his head. Suddenly he seemed strangely relieved, his expression relaxed, but then he started coughing again.
“It’s really such a shame,” he gasped, looking at Peter, who was still sitting anxiously in his mother’s lap, and beckoned for him to come over. “You . . . you don’t need to be afraid of me anymore, boy. The demon that possessed me has disappeared. If you will do me one last favor . . .”
“No!” Magdalena shouted. “My boy won’t do you any more favors, and we won’t stay one more minute in this evil house.”
“My . . . My cough syrup,” Kaiser cried. “It helps the worst of the pain. It’s over there on the mantel. The . . . little g
lass vial, would you get it for me, Peter?”
Peter looked at his parents questioningly, but Simon shrugged. “Just give it to him, son. I’ll examine him later and give him something stronger. Opium, perhaps—we’ll have to see.”
Peter walked over to the mantel and returned with the small blue bottle.
“You’re a good lad, Peter,” Kaiser said with a smile, taking the bottle from the boy and emptying it in one gulp.
“Ah, that’s better,” he mumbled as he wiped his lips. He set the vial down carefully on the tile stove. “Much better.”
“You realize I’ll have to report your crimes, Georg,” said Simon, picking up the earlier conversation, “despite our long friendship. You’ve committed a gruesome murder and you’ve sent innocent children into dangerous mines where some were worked to death for your dreams.”
Kaiser nodded. “I know I’ve sinned. The treasure blinded me. And yes, I’ll suffer the consequences of my crime.” He smiled. “But not before a worldly court.”
“What do you mean by that?” Simon asked in surprise.
Kaiser got up from the bench, stretched, and wrapped his arms around his torso, as if he suddenly felt very cold. “Well, when it became clear to me I was dying of consumption, I decided to make up my own mind on when this suffering would end. All I wanted to do was to find the treasure.” He stooped down and picked up some of the crumpled papers still strewn across the floor, carefully smoothed them out, and studied them. “My consolation is that only I can solve these riddles. It took years, but no one after me will be able to do that, no one will ever retrieve the treasure.”
Simon jumped to his feet. “My God, did you . . . ?” As Kaiser’s gaze drifted to the little vial on the stovetop, Simon was suddenly gripped with horror. He’d been so engrossed in his thoughts that he’d missed this most obvious thing.
Georg Kaiser tipped forward like a sack of flour.
Gagging, his face ashen, he fell headfirst into his yellowing documents.
In the light of the morning sun, the hangman and Hannes stood face to face, as if frozen in time. Hannes had wrapped a leather cord around little Joseffa’s neck and was holding her tight with it, like a dog. Wide-eyed, the girl stared at Jakob, who slowly began to move forward.