The Werewolf of Bamberg Read Online Free PDF

older sister. “If there really is something on the prowl around here, it’s certainly better to stay near the wagon.”
    Magdalena nodded. “You’re right. In just a minute, I’m going to—”
    Just then they heard familiar voices behind them, and when Magdalena turned around, she saw, to her great relief, Simon and the two boys making their way through the crowd. The short medicus looked pale, and there was a slight quiver on his lips.
    “Your father said you were down below at the river crossing,” he said, pointing behind him as the huge figure of Jakob Kuisl approached. “He’s cursing like the driver of a beer wagon because nothing is moving.”
    “Well, at least we now know the cause for the delay,” Magdalena replied. She pointed at the arm on the ground. “People take it for a sign they are not supposed to cross the river, and . . .” She was going to tell Simon the rest, but at that moment her father arrived. Jakob Kuisl paid no heed to those standing around, but glanced down and frowned at the severed arm. Then he bent over to have a better look.
    “Don’t touch it,” snarled the wagon driver with the slouch hat. “It will bring misfortune to us all.”
    “Just because I touch a moldy arm?” Kuisl still had his cold pipe in his mouth, so his words were hard to understand. “If that’s the case, then bad luck would follow me like it did Job.” Carefully, he picked up the arm and examined it.
    “My God, what’s he doing?” gasped the second, heavily built wagon driver. “It looks like he is going to smell it.”
    “Ah, not exactly,” Magdalena replied. “It’s just that—”
    Kuisl interrupted, finally taking the pipe out of his mouth. “This arm belonged to a man who was old and feeble, around sixty, I would say, or perhaps seventy. He was an aristocratic gentleman, or in any case he signed and sealed a large number of documents. Hm . . .” He held the arm right up to his face, as if about to take a bite out of it. “Yes, no doubt a nobleman whose wife died some time ago and who was looking around for a younger partner. He was probably on a trip in search of a woman. But why? He didn’t have long to live, in any case. He’d been suffering badly from gout, and he had at most one or two years to live.” Kuisl nodded, trying to think what it all meant. “By God, this arm can serve as a warning to us not to eat too much fatty meat. Nothing more and nothing less. So now, it’s served its purpose.”
    The hangman threw the arm in a wide arc into the swirling, foaming river, where it quickly sank. The crowd let out a collective shout, as if Kuisl had murdered one of them.
    “What . . . what did you do?” sputtered the man with the slouch hat. “The sign . . .”
    “What sign? It was just an arm, nothing more. Now let’s get moving before I turn really nasty in this awful weather.”
    The men along the river stared at him, dumbfounded, and Kuisl, without another word, took his place in line again behind the wagons.
    “For God’s sake, who was that?” one of the wagon drivers finally asked. “A magician? A demon? How can he know exactly who the arm belonged to?”
    “Let’s just say he’s seen a number of severed body parts,” Magdalena replied as she turned around. “He has . . . uh . . . some experience in this area. So you can believe him.” Then she hurried back with Barbara and the other Kuisls to join her father.
    They quickly caught up with him as he walked back along the muddy path through the pass, grimly and in haste. Simon had left the two boys in the care of his sister-in-law, Barbara, and now he turned to his father-in-law with an inquisitive expression.
    “My compliments, that was very impressive,” he said, as both he and Magdalena struggled to keep up with Jakob. “How did you know so much about that arm?”
    “Good God, because the Lord gave me eyes to see,” Kuisl grumbled. “That’s all there is to it. You don’t need any witchcraft