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The Executioner's Daughter and the Beggar King read online. Oliver Poetsch - The Hangman's Daughter and the King of the Beggars

The Executioner's Daughter and the Beggar King read online. Oliver Poetsch - The Hangman's Daughter and the King of the Beggars

DIE HENKERSTOCHTER UND DER KÖNIG DER BETTLER

Published in 2010 by Ullstein Taschenbuch Verlag

Dedicated to my beloved Catherine.

Only a strong woman can get along with Quizl.

As soon as a soldier is born,

Of the three peasants, the convoy will be given to him:

One will prepare food for him,

The second one will find a nicer woman,

And the third one will burn in hell for him.

Verse from the Thirty Years' War

Characters

Jakob Kuisl - executioner from Schongau

Simon Fronwieser - son of the city doctor

Magdalena Kuisl - the executioner's daughter

Anna-Maria Kuisl - the executioner's wife

Twins Georg and Barbara Kuisl

Residents of Schongau

Marta Stechlin - healer

Johann Lechner – court secretary

Boniface Fronwizer - city doctor

Michael Berthold – baker and city councilor

Maria Berthold - his wife

Rezl Kirchlechner - baker's maid

Residents of Regensburg

Elisabeth Hoffmann - the barber's wife and sister of Jacob Kuisl

Andreas Hoffmann – barber from Regensburg

Philipp Teuber – executioner of Regensburg

Caroline Teuber - his wife

Silvio Contarini – Venetian ambassador

Nathan Sirota - King of the Beggars of Regensburg

Paulus Memminger – Treasurer of Regensburg

Karl Gessner – Harbor Master of Regensburg

Dorothea Behlein - brothel owner

Father Hubert - brewer for the bishop

Hieronymus Reiner – mayor and city councilor

Joachim Kerscher – Chairman of the Regensburg Tax Office

Dominic Elsperger – surgeon

Hans Reiser, Brother Paulus, Mad Johannes - beggars

November 1637, somewhere

in the vastness of the Thirty Years' War

The horsemen of the apocalypse walked in bright red pants and tattered uniforms, and behind their backs, like banners, cloaks fluttered in the wind. They rode on old, shabby nags, covered in mud, their blades rusty and jagged from countless murders. The soldiers waited silently behind the trees and did not take their eyes off the village in which they were going to carry out a massacre in the coming hours.

There were twelve of them. A dozen starving, war-weary soldiers. They robbed, killed and raped - over and over again, over and over again. They may have once been human, but now all that remains of them are empty shells. Madness seeped from within them until it finally splashed into their eyes. The leader, a young and wiry Franconian in a bright uniform, chewed a split straw and sucked saliva through the gap between his front teeth. Seeing smoke coming out of the chimneys of the houses huddled near the edge of the building, he nodded with satisfaction.

– Apparently, there is still something to profit from.

The leader spat out the straw and reached for the saber, covered with rust and blood stains. The soldiers heard women's and children's laughter. The leader grinned.

- And women are available.

On the right, a pimply youth giggled. With his long fingers clinging to the bridle of his skinny nag, slightly hunched over, he looked like a ferret in human form. His pupils scurried back and forth, as if they could not stop for a second. He was no more than sixteen years old, but the war had managed to age him.

“You’re a real stud, Philip,” he rasped and ran his tongue over his dry lips. - Only one thing on my mind.

“Shut up, Karl,” came a voice from the left. It belonged to an uncouth, bearded, fat man with disheveled black hair, the same as the Franconian's - and a young man with pitiless, empty eyes, cold as autumn rain. All three were brothers. “Didn’t our father teach you to open your mouth only when you give your word?” Shut up!

“Shit on my father,” the young man grumbled. “I don’t give a shit about you either, Friedrich.”

Fat Friedrich was about to answer, but the leader beat him to it. His hand darted to Karl’s neck and squeezed his throat so that the young man’s eyes bulged out like huge buttons.

“Don’t you dare insult our family anymore,” whispered Philip Laettner, the eldest of the brothers. – Never again, do you hear? Or I’ll cut your skin into belts until you start calling for your late mother. Understood?

Karl’s pimply face turned crimson and he nodded. Philip released him, and Karl broke into a coughing fit.

Philip's face suddenly changed; now he looked at his wheezing brother almost with sympathy.

“Karl, my dear Karl,” he muttered and took another straw into his mouth. - What should I do with you? Discipline, you know... Without it, there is nowhere in war. Discipline and respect! “He leaned over to his younger brother and patted his pimply cheek. “You are my brother, and I love you.” But if you insult our father’s honor again, I will cut off your ear. It's clear?

Karl was silent. He stared at the ground and chewed his nail.

- Do you understand? – Philip asked again.

“I... understand,” the younger brother humbly lowered his head and clenched his fists.

Philip grinned.

“Then let’s film, now we can finally have a little fun.”

The rest of the riders watched the performance with interest. Philipp Laettner was their undisputed leader. At almost thirty, he was known as the most brutal of the brothers, and he had the gumption to remain at the head of this gang. Since last year, during the campaign, they began to make their own small raids. Until now, Philip had managed to arrange everything so that the young sergeant major would not find out anything. And now, during the winter, they robbed the surrounding villages and farmsteads, although the sergeant major strictly forbade this. The booty was sold to sutlers who followed the convoy on carts. Thus, they always had something to eat and had enough money for booze and whores.

Today the production promised to be especially generous. The village in the clearing, hidden among the firs and beeches, seemed almost untouched by the turmoil of a protracted war. In the light of the setting sun, brand new barns and sheds were revealed to the soldiers’ eyes, cows were grazing in a clearing at the edge of the forest, and the sounds of pipes were heard from somewhere. Philip Laettner pressed his heels into the horse's sides. She neighed, reared up and began to gallop among the blood-red beech trunks. The rest followed the leader. The carnage has begun.

The first to notice them was a hunched, gray-haired old man who climbed into the bushes to relieve himself. Instead of hiding in the undergrowth, he ran with his pants down towards the village. Philip caught up with him, swung his saber as he galloped, and with one blow cut off the fugitive's hand. The old man twitched, and the rest of the soldiers rushed past him, screaming.

Meanwhile, residents working in front of their houses saw landsknechts. The women threw down their jugs and packages with a squeal and rushed in all directions to the fields, and then further to the forest. Young Karl chuckled and aimed his crossbow at a boy of about twelve who was trying to hide in the stubble left after the harvest. The bolt hit the boy in the shoulder blade, and he fell into the mud without making a sound.

Meanwhile, several soldiers, led by Frederick, separated from the rest in order, like mad cows, to catch the women running towards the forest. The men laughed, lifted their victims onto their saddles, or simply dragged them by the hair. Philip, meanwhile, took care of the frightened peasants who poured out of their houses to protect their miserable lives and households. They grabbed flails and scythes, some even clutched sabers, but they were all incapable ragamuffins, exhausted by hunger and disease. They might have been able to kill the chicken, but they were powerless against the soldier on horseback.

Oliver Poetsch

The executioner's daughter and the king of the beggars

DIE HENKERSTOCHTER UND DER KÖNIG DER BETTLER

Published in 2010 by Ullstein Taschenbuch Verlag

* * *

Dedicated to my beloved Catherine.

Only a strong woman can get along with Quizl.

As soon as a soldier is born,
Of the three peasants, the convoy will be given to him:
One will prepare food for him,
The second one will find a nicer woman,
And the third one will burn in hell for him.

Verse from the Thirty Years' War

Characters

Jakob Kuisl - executioner from Schongau

Simon Fronwieser - son of the city doctor

Magdalena Kuisl - the executioner's daughter

Anna-Maria Kuisl - the executioner's wife

Twins Georg and Barbara Kuisl

Residents of Schongau

Marta Stechlin - healer

Johann Lechner – court secretary

Boniface Fronwizer - city doctor

Michael Berthold – baker and city councilor

Maria Berthold - his wife

Rezl Kirchlechner - baker's maid

Residents of Regensburg

Elisabeth Hoffmann - the barber's wife and sister of Jacob Kuisl

Andreas Hoffmann – barber from Regensburg

Philipp Teuber – executioner of Regensburg

Caroline Teuber - his wife

Silvio Contarini – Venetian ambassador

Nathan Sirota - King of the Beggars of Regensburg

Paulus Memminger – Treasurer of Regensburg

Karl Gessner – Harbor Master of Regensburg

Dorothea Behlein - brothel owner

Father Hubert - brewer for the bishop

Hieronymus Reiner – mayor and city councilor

Joachim Kerscher – Chairman of the Regensburg Tax Office

Dominic Elsperger – surgeon

Hans Reiser, Brother Paulus, Mad Johannes - beggars

November 1637, somewhere

in the vastness of the Thirty Years' War

– Apparently, there is still something to profit from.

The leader spat out the straw and reached for the saber, covered with rust and blood stains. The soldiers heard women's and children's laughter. The leader grinned.

- And women are available.

“You’re a real stud, Philip,” he rasped and ran his tongue over his dry lips. - Only one thing on my mind.

“Shit on my father,” the young man grumbled. “I don’t give a shit about you either, Friedrich.”

Fat Friedrich was about to answer, but the leader beat him to it. His hand darted to Karl’s neck and squeezed his throat so that the young man’s eyes bulged out like huge buttons.

Karl’s pimply face turned crimson and he nodded. Philip released him, and Karl broke into a coughing fit.

Philip's face suddenly changed; now he looked at his wheezing brother almost with sympathy.

Karl was silent. He stared at the ground and chewed his nail.

- Do you understand? – Philip asked again.

“I... understand,” the younger brother humbly lowered his head and clenched his fists.

Philip grinned.

“Then let’s film, now we can finally have a little fun.”

Only a few minutes passed and the massacre was left behind. The peasants lay in pools of blood, in their own houses, spread out among chopped up tables, beds and benches, or on the street. Those few who still showed signs of life were cut by Philip Laettner, one by one, with their throats cut. Two soldiers threw one of the dead into a well in the village square and thus made the village uninhabitable for many years. The rest of the raiders at this time were searching houses in search of food and some valuables. The loot was not particularly rich: a handful of dirty coins, a couple of silver spoons and a few cheap chains and rosary beads. Young Karl Laettner pulled on a white wedding dress, which he found in a chest, and began to dance, singing a wedding song in a shrill voice. And then, amid deafening laughter, the soldier fell headlong into the mud; the dress was torn and hung from him in rags, spattered with blood and clay.

Oliver Poetsch

The executioner's daughter and the king of the beggars

Dedicated to my beloved Catherine.

Only a strong woman can get along with Quizl.

As soon as a soldier is born,
Of the three peasants, the convoy will be given to him:
One will prepare food for him,
The second one will find a nicer woman,
And the third one will burn in hell for him.

Verse from the Thirty Years' War

Characters

Jakob Kuisl - executioner from Schongau

Simon Fronwieser - son of the city doctor

Magdalena Kuisl - the executioner's daughter

Anna-Maria Kuisl - the executioner's wife

Twins Georg and Barbara Kuisl

Residents of Schongau

Marta Stechlin - healer

Johann Lechner - court secretary

Boniface Fronwizer - city doctor

Michael Berthold - baker and city councilor

Maria Bertholdt - his wife

Rezl Kirchlechner - baker's maid

Residents of Regensburg

Elisabeth Hoffmann - barber's wife and sister of Jacob Kuisl

Andreas Hoffmann - barber from Regensburg

Philipp Teuber - executioner of Regensburg

Caroline Teuber - his wife

Silvio Contarini - Venetian ambassador

Nathan Sirota - King of the Beggars of Regensburg

Paulus Memminger - Treasurer of Regensburg

Karl Gessner - harbor master of Regensburg

Dorothea Bechlein - brothel owner

Father Hubert - brewer for the bishop

Hieronymus Reiner - mayor and city councilor

Joachim Kerscher - Chairman of the Regensburg Tax Office

Dominic Elsperger - surgeon

Hans Reiser, Brother Paulus, Mad Johannes - beggars

November 1637, somewhere

in the vastness of the Thirty Years' War

Apparently, there is still something to profit from.

The leader spat out the straw and reached for the saber, covered with rust and blood stains. The soldiers heard women's and children's laughter. The leader grinned.

And women are available.

You’re a real stud, Philip,” he rasped and ran his tongue over his dry lips. - Only one thing on my mind.

Shut up, Karl,” came a voice from the left. It belonged to an uncouth, bearded, fat man with disheveled black hair, the same as the Franconian's - and a young man with pitiless, empty eyes, cold as autumn rain. All three were brothers. “Didn’t our father teach you to open your mouth only when you give your word?” Shut up!

“Shit on my father,” the young man grumbled. - I don’t give a shit about you either, Friedrich.

Fat Friedrich was about to answer, but the leader beat him to it. His hand darted to Karl’s neck and squeezed his throat so that the young man’s eyes bulged out like huge buttons.

“Don’t you dare insult our family anymore,” Philip Laettner, the eldest of the brothers, whispered. - Never again, do you hear? Or I’ll cut your skin into belts until you start calling for your late mother. Understood?

Karl’s pimply face turned crimson and he nodded. Philip released him, and Karl broke into a coughing fit.

Philip's face suddenly changed; now he looked at his wheezing brother almost with sympathy.

Karl, my dear Karl,” he muttered and took another straw into his mouth. - What should I do with you? Discipline, you know... Without it, there is nowhere in war. Discipline and respect! - He leaned over to his younger brother and patted his pimply cheek. - You are my brother, and I love you. But if you insult our father’s honor again, I will cut off your ear. It's clear?

Karl was silent. He stared at the ground and chewed his nail.

Do you understand? - Philip asked again.

“I... understood,” the younger brother humbly lowered his head and clenched his fists.

Philip grinned.

Then let's film, now we can finally have a little fun.

The most valuable livestock in the village was eight cows, two pigs, several goats and a dozen chickens. The marketeers will pay good money for them.

And, of course, there were still women.

The day was already approaching evening, and the clearing was becoming noticeably cooler. To keep warm, soldiers threw ignited torches into the destroyed houses. Dry reeds and reeds on the roofs ignited in a matter of seconds, and soon the flames reached the windows and doors. The roar of the fire was drowned out only by women's screams and crying.

The women were herded into the village square; there were about twenty of them in total. Fat Friedrich walked in front of them and pushed aside the old and ugly. Some old woman began to fight back. Frederick grabbed her like a doll and threw her into the burning house. Soon her screams died down, and the peasant women fell silent, only from time to time someone quietly sobbed.

In the end, the soldiers selected a dozen of the most suitable women, the youngest of whom was a girl of about ten years old. She stood with her mouth open, staring into the distance, and, apparently, had already lost her mind.

That’s better,” Philip Laettner grumbled and walked around the line of trembling peasant women. “Whoever doesn’t squeal will live until morning.” Living as a soldier's wife is not so bad. At least we have something to eat, your goat-legged creatures didn’t really feed you.

The Landsknechts laughed, Karl chuckled loudly and shrilly, as if some madman was playing out of tune with the second voice in the choir.

Suddenly Philip froze in front of the captive girl. She most likely wore her black hair in a bun, but now it was disheveled and reached almost to her hips. The girl looked to be seventeen or eighteen years old. Looking into her sparkling eyes under thick eyebrows, Laettner couldn't help but think of a small angry cat. The peasant woman trembled all over, but did not lower her head. The rough brown dress was torn, exposing one of her breasts. Philip stared at the small, dense nipple, hardened in the cold. A smile crossed the soldier's face and he pointed at the girl.

This one is mine,” he said. - And for the rest you can at least tear each other’s heads off.

He was about to grab the young peasant woman when suddenly Friedrich’s voice was heard behind him.

This won’t work, Philip,” he muttered. “I found it among the wheat, so it’s mine.”

He stepped towards his brother and stood right in front of him. Frederick was as wide as a barrel and clearly stronger, but despite this, he retreated. If Philip fell into a rage, strength no longer mattered. This has been the case since childhood. Even now he was ready to go berserk, his eyelids trembled, and his lips pressed into a thin bloodless line.

“I dragged the baby out of the chest in the big house,” Philip whispered. “I probably thought that I could climb up there like a mouse.” So we had a little fun there. But she’s stubborn, she needs to be taught some manners. And I think I can do better...

The next moment, Philip's gaze softened and he patted his brother on the shoulder in a friendly manner.

But you're right. Why on earth should the leader get the best women? I'll already get three cows and both pigs, right? - Philip glanced at the other soldiers, but no one dared to object. - You know what, Friedrich? - he continued. - Let's do it as before, as we did then, in Leutkirch, in the tavern. Let's play dice for women.

In... bones? - Friedrich was confused. - Together? Now?

Philip shook his head and frowned, as if he was thinking about something complicated.

No, I think it wouldn’t be fair,” he answered and looked around. - We All Let's play dice. Is it true? Everyone here has the right to this young woman!

The others laughed and cheered him on. Philipp Laettner was the kind of leader one could only dream of. The devil himself, thrice damned, with a soul blacker than the devil's ass! Young Karl, like a jester, began jumping in circles and clapping his hands.

Play! Play! - he squealed. - Like before!

Philip Laettner nodded and sat down on the ground. He took two battered bone cubes from his pocket, which he had carried throughout the war, threw them into the air and deftly caught them.

Well, who will play with me? - he barked. - Who? For cows and girls. Let's see what you can do.

The black-haired girl was dragged like a beast into the middle of the square, and they sat around. The young peasant woman screamed desperately and tried to run away, but Philip hit her twice in the face.

Shut up, whore! Or we will all fuck you off together and then cut off your tits.

The girl huddled on the ground, wrapped her arms around her knees and, as if in her mother’s womb, pressed her head to her chest. Through the veil of despair and pain, she could hear, as if from afar, the sound of dice, the clinking of coins and the laughter of soldiers.

The Landsknechts suddenly began to sing. The girl knew her well. Previously, when their mother was still alive, they sang it together in the field. And then, before leaving forever, my mother sang it on her deathbed. The song was already sad, but now in the mouths of the soldiers, bawling it in the evening twilight, it seemed so alien and terrible that the girl’s insides sank. The words, like clouds of fog, enveloped the young peasant woman.

That Reaper's nickname is Death,
And power was given to him by God.
Today he will sharpen his scythe -
He will mow a full crop of ears.
…
Beware, pretty flower!

The soldiers laughed, Philipp Laettner shook the box of cubes. Once, twice, three times...

With a barely audible thud, the bones fell into the sand.

The wave swept over Jacob Kuisl and washed him off the bench like a piece of wood.

The executioner slid along the slimy logs, began to grab at everything in sight, trying to stop, until he finally felt his legs plunge into a seething whirlpool. His own weight of a hundred kilograms slowly but inevitably pulled him into the cold water. Alarming cries were heard next to him, as if through a wall. Quizl dug his nails into the boards and eventually managed to grab a nail sticking out of the log with his right hand. He began to pull himself up, and at that moment someone else rushed past him. With his free hand, the executioner caught a boy of about ten years old by the collar, who began to kick and gasp for air. Jacob threw the boy back into the middle of the raft, and he found himself in the arms of his terrified father.

The executioner climbed heavily onto the raft and sat down again on the bench in the bow. His linen shirt and leather vest clung to his body, and water ran down his face and beard in streams. Looking straight ahead, Jacob realized that the worst was yet to come. To the left, a huge wall, forty paces high, rose above them, and the raft was inevitably carried straight towards it. Here, in the Weltenburg Gorge, the Danube was as narrow as anywhere else. During the floods, many raftsmen found death in this seething cauldron.

Hang in there, damn it! For God's sake, hold on!

The raft fell into another whirlpool, and the helmsman at the bow leaned on the oar. The veins on his wrists bulged like knotted ropes, but the long pole did not move an inch. After heavy rains in recent days, the river has swollen so much that even the usually cozy sandbanks near the banks disappeared under water. The current carried broken branches and uprooted trees, and the wide raft flew faster and faster towards the rocks. The edge of the raft was dragged along the rock, and a disgusting grinding sound reached Kuizl. The wall now hung like a stone giant over a handful of people and covered them with its shadow. Sharp limestone protrusions cut into the outer log and crushed it like a bundle of straw.

Saint Nepomuk, do not leave us, Holy Virgin Mary, deliver us from troubles! Saint Nicholas, have mercy...

Kuizl gloomily glanced sideways at the nun next to him: she was clutching her rosary and in a whiny voice she was tirelessly praying to the cloudless sky. The other passengers, pale as if dead, also muttered all the prayers they knew and crossed themselves. The fat peasant closed his eyes and, sweating profusely, waited for imminent death; next to him, a Franciscan monk abruptly appealed to the fourteen patron saints. A little boy, a failed drowned man who had not long ago been saved by an executioner, clung to his father and cried. It was only a matter of time before the rock crushed the bound logs. Few of the passengers knew how to swim, but even this would hardly have helped in the seething whirlpools.

Damn you, damn water!

Quizl spat and jumped up to the helmsman, who was still fiddling with the oar secured by ropes to the bow of the raft. With his legs spread wide, the executioner stood next to the raftsman and leaned all his weight onto the beam. The steering wheel apparently got caught on something in the icy water. Jacob immediately remembered the horror stories circulating among raftsmen about terrible slimy monsters that lived at the bottom of the river. Just yesterday one fisherman told him about a catfish five steps long that settled in a cave on the Danube Fault... What, if anything was wrong, was holding the oar?

The beam in Kuizl's hands suddenly twitched barely perceptibly. He groaned and pressed even harder; his bones seemed like they could break at any second. Something crackled and the oar gave way abruptly. The raft spun in the whirlpool, gave a final swing and, like a stone from a catapult, was thrown away from the rock.

The very next moment the raft rushed like an arrow towards three rocky islands near the right bank. Some of the passengers screamed again, but the helmsman regained control and righted the ship. The raft rushed past rocky ledges around which the waves foamed, finally plunged its nose into the water, and the dangerous gorge was left behind.

Thank you for the kind words! - The helmsman wiped the sweat and water from his eyes and extended his calloused hand to Kuizl. - A little more, and we would have been ground under the High Wall, like in a mill. Don't you want to go to rafting? - He bared his teeth and felt the executioner’s muscles. - Strong as a bull, and you also swear in our language... Well, what do you say?

Quizl shook his head.

Tempting, of course. But I am of no use to you. One more whirlpool and I'll be thrown out into the water. I need earth under my feet.

The raftsman laughed. The executioner shook his wet hair, and splashes flew in all directions.

How long until Regensburg? - he asked the helmsman. - I'll go crazy on this river. Ten times I already thought that we were finished.

Jacob looked around: behind him, to the right and left, rocky walls rose above the river. Some of them reminded him of fossilized monsters or the heads of giants who watched the fuss of tiny mortals under their feet. Shortly before them, they passed the Weltenburg monastery - ruins left after the war and washed away by floods. Despite his deplorable condition, some travelers could not resist silent prayer. The gorge following the ruins after heavy rains was considered a serious test for any raftsman, so a few words addressed to the Lord were by no means superfluous.

“Lord knows, the fault is the worst place on the entire Danube,” answered the helmsman and crossed himself. - Especially when the water rises. But now it will be peace and quiet, I give you my word. We'll be there in two hours.

Current page: 1 (book has a total of 27 pages) [available reading passage: 15 pages]

Oliver Poetsch
The executioner's daughter and the king of the beggars

DIE HENKERSTOCHTER UND DER KÖNIG DER BETTLER

Published in 2010 by Ullstein Taschenbuch Verlag

* * *

Dedicated to my beloved Catherine.

Only a strong woman can get along with Quizl.

As soon as a soldier is born,
Of the three peasants, the convoy will be given to him:
One will prepare food for him,
The second one will find a nicer woman,
And the third one will burn in hell for him.

Verse from the Thirty Years' War

Characters

Jakob Kuisl - executioner from Schongau

Simon Fronwieser - son of the city doctor

Magdalena Kuisl - the executioner's daughter

Anna-Maria Kuisl - the executioner's wife

Twins Georg and Barbara Kuisl

Residents of Schongau

Marta Stechlin - healer

Johann Lechner – court secretary

Boniface Fronwizer - city doctor

Michael Berthold – baker and city councilor

Maria Berthold - his wife

Rezl Kirchlechner - baker's maid

Residents of Regensburg

Elisabeth Hoffmann - the barber's wife and sister of Jacob Kuisl

Andreas Hoffmann – barber from Regensburg

Philipp Teuber – executioner of Regensburg

Caroline Teuber - his wife

Silvio Contarini – Venetian ambassador

Nathan Sirota - King of the Beggars of Regensburg

Paulus Memminger – Treasurer of Regensburg

Karl Gessner – Harbor Master of Regensburg

Dorothea Behlein - brothel owner

Father Hubert - brewer for the bishop

Hieronymus Reiner – mayor and city councilor

Joachim Kerscher – Chairman of the Regensburg Tax Office

Dominic Elsperger – surgeon

Hans Reiser, Brother Paulus, Mad Johannes - beggars

Prologue

November 1637, somewhere

in the vastness of the Thirty Years' War

– Apparently, there is still something to profit from.

The leader spat out the straw and reached for the saber, covered with rust and blood stains. The soldiers heard women's and children's laughter. The leader grinned.

- And women are available.

“You’re a real stud, Philip,” he rasped and ran his tongue over his dry lips. - Only one thing on my mind.

“Shit on my father,” the young man grumbled. “I don’t give a shit about you either, Friedrich.”

Fat Friedrich was about to answer, but the leader beat him to it. His hand darted to Karl’s neck and squeezed his throat so that the young man’s eyes bulged out like huge buttons.

Karl’s pimply face turned crimson and he nodded. Philip released him, and Karl broke into a coughing fit.

Philip's face suddenly changed; now he looked at his wheezing brother almost with sympathy.

Karl was silent. He stared at the ground and chewed his nail.

- Do you understand? – Philip asked again.

“I... understand,” the younger brother humbly lowered his head and clenched his fists.

Philip grinned.

“Then let’s film, now we can finally have a little fun.”

The most valuable livestock in the village was eight cows, two pigs, several goats and a dozen chickens. The marketeers will pay good money for them.

And, of course, there were still women.

“That’s better,” Philip Laettner grumbled and walked around the line of trembling peasant women. “Whoever doesn’t squeal will live until morning.” Living as a soldier's wife is not so bad. At least we have something to eat, your goat-legged creatures didn’t really feed you.

The Landsknechts laughed, Karl chuckled loudly and shrilly, as if some madman was playing out of tune with the second voice in the choir.

“This one is mine,” he said. – And for the rest you can at least tear each other’s heads off.

He was about to grab the young peasant woman when suddenly Friedrich’s voice was heard behind him.

“That won’t do, Philip,” he muttered. “I found it among the wheat, so it’s mine.”

The next moment, Philip's gaze softened and he patted his brother on the shoulder in a friendly manner.

- But you're right. Why on earth should the leader get the best women? I'll already get three cows and both pigs, right? – Philip glanced at the other soldiers, but no one dared to object. – You know what, Friedrich? – he continued. - Let's do it as before, as we did then, in Leutkirch, in the tavern. Let's play dice for women.

- In... bones? – Friedrich was confused. - Together? Now?

Philip shook his head and frowned, as if he was thinking about something complicated.

“No, I think it wouldn’t be fair,” he answered and looked around. - We All Let's play dice. Is it true? Everyone here has the right to this young woman!

- Play! Play! - he squealed. - Like before!

Philip Laettner nodded and sat down on the ground. He took two battered bone cubes from his pocket, which he had carried throughout the war, threw them into the air and deftly caught them.

- Well, who will play with me? - he barked. - Who? For cows and girls. Let's see what you can do.

- Shut up, whore! Or we will all fuck you off together and then cut off your tits.

That Reaper's nickname is Death,
And power was given to him by God.
Today he will sharpen his scythe -
He will mow a full crop of ears.
…
Beware, pretty flower!

The soldiers laughed, Philipp Laettner shook the box of cubes. Once, twice, three times...

With a barely audible thud, the bones fell into the sand.

1

The wave swept over Jacob Kuisl and washed him off the bench like a piece of wood.

-Hold on, damn it! For God's sake, hold on!

– Saint Nepomuk, do not leave us, Holy Virgin Mary, deliver us from troubles! Saint Nicholas, have mercy...

- Damn you, damn water!

- Thank you for the kind words! “The helmsman wiped the sweat and water from his eyes and extended his calloused hand to Kuizl. “A little more and we would have been ground under the High Wall, like in a mill.” Don't you want to go to rafting? “He grinned and felt the executioner’s muscles. - Strong as a bull, and you also swear in our language... Well, what do you say?

Quizl shook his head.

- It’s tempting, of course. But I am of no use to you. One more whirlpool and I'll be thrown out into the water. I need earth under my feet.

The raftsman laughed. The executioner shook his wet hair, and splashes flew in all directions.

How long until Regensburg? - he asked the helmsman. - I'll go crazy on this river. Ten times I already thought that we were finished.

“Lord knows, the fault is the worst place on the entire Danube,” answered the helmsman and crossed himself. – Especially when the water rises. But now it will be peace and quiet, I give you my word. We'll be there in two hours.

“I hope you’re right,” Kuizl grumbled. “Otherwise I’ll break that damn oar on your own back.”

He turned around and, stepping carefully, made his way along the narrow passage between the benches to the aft part of the raft, where the barrels and boxes with cargo stood. The executioner hated traveling on a raft, even though it was the fastest and most reliable way to get to another city. He was used to feeling the firmament of the earth under his feet. You can build a house out of logs, put together a table, or even put up a gallows - so at least you won’t slip into the water in a stormy current... Kuizl was glad that soon the rocking would finally stop.

His fellow travelers looked at him with gratitude. The color began to rise to their faces again, some prayed with relief, some laughed loudly. The father of the rescued boy tried to press Quizl to his chest, but the executioner turned away from him and grumpily disappeared behind the tied boxes.

Here, on the Danube, four days' journey from his home, neither the passengers nor the crew of raftsmen knew that he was the executioner from Schongau. The helmsman at the bow was lucky. If rumors had spread that the executioner helped him straighten the raft, the poor fellow would probably have been kicked out of the guild. Kuisl had heard that in some regions it was considered shameful to touch or even look at the executioner.

Jacob climbed onto a barrel filled with salted herring and began filling his pipe. After the famous Weltenburg fault, the Danube again became wide. The town of Kelheim appeared on the left, and heavily loaded barges began to scurry past, so close to the raft that the executioner could almost reach them. A skiff floated in the distance, from which came the singing of a violin, accompanied by the ringing of bells. Immediately behind the skiff was a wide raft loaded with lime, yew and bricks. It sank so much under its load that waves kept crashing onto the plank deck. In the middle of the ship, in front of a hastily put together shack, a raftsman stood and rang a bell every time a small boat sailed dangerously close to him.

The executioner blew a cloud of smoke into the blue, almost cloudless summer sky and tried for at least a few minutes not to think about the sad events that served as the reason for the journey. Six days have passed since he received a letter from distant Regensburg in Schongau. This message alarmed him much more than he wanted to show to his household. His younger sister Elizabeth, who had lived with her barber husband in the imperial city for a long time, became seriously ill. The letter spoke of a tumor in the abdomen, terrible pain and black discharge. In illegible lines, the son-in-law asked Kuisl to come to Regensburg as soon as possible, since he did not know how much longer Elisabeth could hold out. Then the executioner rummaged in the closet, put St. John's wort, poppy and arnica in a bag and set off with the first raft to the mouth of the Danube. As an executioner, he was generally forbidden to leave the city without the permission of the council, but Kuizl did not care about this prohibition. Let Secretary Lechner at least quarter him upon his return - his sister’s life was more important to him. Jacob did not trust the learned doctors: they would most likely bleed Elizabeth until she turned white like a drowned man. If anyone can help his sister, it is only himself, and no one else.

The executioner Shongau killed and healed - in both of these he reached unprecedented heights.

- Hey, big guy! Will you have some bread with us?

Kuizl perked up and looked up: one of the raftsmen was handing him a mug. Jacob shook his head and pulled his black hat down over his forehead to keep the sun from blinding him. From under the wide brim only a hooked nose was visible, and under it a long pipe was smoking. At the same time, Kuizl quietly watched his fellow travelers and raftsmen; they crowded among the boxes, and each drank a strong drink to distract themselves from the horror they had experienced. The executioner was tormented in thought; an obsessive thought, like an annoying midge, circled in his mind. And in the whirlpool under the rock, she only left him alone for a while.

From the very beginning of the trip, Kuizl had the feeling that he was being watched.

The executioner could not say anything definite. He relied only on his instincts and many years of experience, which he acquired as a soldier in the Great War: a barely noticeable tingling suddenly began between his shoulder blades. Quizl had no idea who was following him or for what purpose, but the itch persisted.

Jacob looked around. In addition to two Franciscan monks and a nun, the passengers included traveling artisans and apprentices, as well as several poor merchants. Together with Quizl there were a little more than twenty people; all of them were placed on five rafts, following in a column one after another. From here along the Danube it was possible to get to Vienna in just a week, and in three weeks to the Black Sea. At night, rafts were tied off the coast, people gathered around the fire, exchanged news or talked about past travels and trips. Only Kuizl did not know anyone and therefore sat aloof from everyone, which only benefited him - he still considered many of those gathered to be talkative fools. From his place at a distance from the others, the executioner watched every evening the men and women as they warmed themselves near the fire, drank cheap wine and ate lamb. And every time he felt someone’s gaze on him, constantly watching him. And now it was between his shoulder blades that itched as if a particularly annoying bug had crawled under his shirt.

Sitting on a barrel, Kuizl dangled his legs and showed with all his appearance how bored he was. He refilled his pipe and looked at the shore, as if he were interested in a flock of children waving from the slope.

And then he suddenly turned his head towards the stern.

He managed to catch the gaze directed at himself. The view of the helmsman who controlled the oar in the stern of the raft. As far as Kuizl remembered, this man had joined them back in Schongau. The thick and broad-shouldered raftsman was in no way inferior in size to the executioner. His huge belly barely fit into his blue jacket, belted with a belt with a copper buckle, and his pants were tucked into the tops of high boots for convenience. A cubit-long hunting knife hung from his belt, and his head was crowned with a short-brimmed hat, so beloved by raftsmen. But what caught my eye most was the stranger's face. The right half of him was a mess riddled with small scars and ulcers - apparently a memory of terrible burns. The eye socket was covered with a bandage, and under it a reddish scar stretched from the forehead to the chin, looking like a moving fat worm.

At the first moment, Kuizl had the feeling that in front of him was not a face at all, but an animal’s muzzle.

A face twisted with hatred.

But the moment passed, and the helmsman again bent over his oar. He turned away from the executioner as if their fleeting eye contact had never happened.

An image from the past flashed in Kuizl’s memory, but he couldn’t grasp it. The Danube lazily carried its waters past Jacob, and the memory was carried away with them. All that remains is a vague guess.

Where the hell?..

Quizl knew this man. I had no idea where it came from, but my instincts sounded the alarm. As a soldier in the war, the executioner saw a lot of people. Cowards and brave men, heroes and traitors, murderers and their victims - many of them were deprived of their minds by the war. The only thing Quizl could say with certainty was that the man lazily grasping the oar just a couple of steps away from him was dangerous. Cunning and dangerous.

Quizl furtively adjusted the baton hanging from his belt. In any case, there is no cause for concern yet. There were many people who said the same thing about the executioner.

Kuisl went ashore in the small village of Prüfening, from where Regensburg was only a few miles away. Grinning, the executioner threw a bag of medicine over his shoulder and waved goodbye to the rafters, merchants and artisans. If this stranger with a burned face was indeed following him, then now he would have some difficulties. He is the helmsman, which means that until they land in Regensburg, he simply will not be able to get off the raft. The raftsman actually stared at him with his good eye and seemed ready to jump after him onto the small pier - but then, apparently, he changed his mind. He threw one last hate-filled look at Kuizl, which no one even noticed, and went back to work - wrapping a thick, slippery rope around a post on the pier.

The raft stood moored for some time, took on board several travelers heading to Regensburg, after which it set sail and lazily glided towards the imperial city, the towers of which were already visible on the horizon.

The executioner looked after the retreating raft for the last time and, whistling an infantry march, walked along the narrow road to the north. Soon the village was left behind, with fields of wheat swaying in the wind stretching to the right and left. Kuisl passed the boundary stone and crossed the border where the territory of Bavaria ended and the possessions of the imperial city of Regensburg began. Until now, Jacob knew the famous city only from stories. Regensburg was one of the largest cities in Germany and reported directly to the emperor. If you believe the stories, the so-called Reichstag met there, where princes, dukes and bishops gathered - and decided the fate of the empire.

Now seeing tall walls and towers in the distance, Kuizl suddenly felt terribly homesick for his native place. The executioner Schongau felt uncomfortable in the big world: the Sonnenbräu inn just behind the church, the greenish Lech and the dense Bavarian forests were enough for him.

It was a hot August afternoon, the sun was hot directly overhead, and the wheat shone gold under its rays. Far away on the horizon the first thunderclouds blackened. To the right, over the fields, rose a hanging hill, where several hanged men swayed from side to side. The overgrown trenches still preserved the memory of the Great War. The executioner was no longer alone on the road. Carts rumbled past him, horsemen rushed by, and oxen slowly pulled peasant carts from the surrounding villages. A dense stream of people, with noise and shouts, stretched towards the city and eventually gathered in a crowd under the high gates at the western wall. Among the poor peasants in woolen shirts and scarves, cab drivers, pilgrims and beggars, Kuisl every now and then noticed luxuriously dressed nobles riding on stallions, making their way through the crowd.

Jacob frowned at the crowd. It looks like one of these Reichstags is on the cards again in the foreseeable future. Kuizl joined the long line that lined up in front of the gates and began to wait for him to be allowed into the city. Judging by the shouting and swearing, things took longer than usual.

- Hey, Kalancha! How is it breathing up there?

Kuizl realized that these words were addressed to him, and bent over the short peasant. Looking into the gloomy face of the executioner, the short man involuntarily swallowed, but still continued.

-Can you see what's ahead? – he asked, smiling timidly. – I take beets to the market twice a week: on Thursdays and Saturdays. But I have never seen such a crowd.

The executioner rose on his toes: thus he towered over those around him by a good two heads. In front of the gate, Kuizl could see at least six guards. They collected a fee from everyone entering the city and put the coins in a tin box. Amid loud protests from the peasants, the soldiers kept stabbing their swords into carts with grain, straw or beets, as if they were looking for someone.

“They check every cart,” muttered the executioner and looked mockingly at the peasant. - Has the emperor really come to the city or do you always have such bedlam here?

The executioner's daughter and the king of the beggars Oliver Poetsch

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Title: The Executioner's Daughter and the King of the Beggars

About the book “The Hangman's Daughter and the King of the Beggars” by Oliver Poetsch

Jacob Kuisl is a formidable executioner from the ancient Bavarian town of Schongau. It is through his hands that justice is administered. The townspeople fear and avoid Jacob, considering the executioner akin to the devil...

August 1662. The executioner from Schongau, Jakob Kuisl, arrived in the imperial city of Regensburg to visit his sick sister. But as soon as he crossed the threshold of the ill-fated house, a terrible picture was revealed to the eyes of the executioner who had seen everything. The sister and her husband are in a pool of their own blood, endless emptiness in their eyes, gaping wounds on their necks... And a moment later, guards burst into the house and Kuizl was seized as an obvious murderer. The city council intends to torture a confession out of him. And now Jacob will have to experience the skill of his Regensburg colleague... Kuisl has no doubt: someone set him up. But who - and why?.. Perhaps only his daughter Magdalena is able to get to the bottom of the truth and save her father from a cruel death...

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