Above their heads lay tons of rock and earth. The physician briefly thought about what would happen if the wet clay were to suddenly collapse over him. Would he even feel anything at all? Would the rock mercifully break his neck or would he slowly suffocate? When he realized that his heart was starting to race, he tried to direct his thoughts toward something beautiful. He thought of Magdalena, of her black hair, her dark, laughing eyes, her full lips…he could clearly see her face in front of him, almost close enough to touch. Now her expression was changing; it looked as if she wanted to cry out to him. Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly; her eyes shone with naked fear. When she turned around to look straight at him, the daydream burst like a soap bubble. The tunnel curved suddenly and opened into a chamber about six feet high.
In front of him, the hangman straightened up and shone his lantern all around the chamber. Simon tried without much success to knock the dirt from his trousers, then he looked around as well.
The chamber was almost square and about three paces wide and long. On the sides were small recesses and steps, almost like shelves. On the opposite side two more slightly sloping tunnels extended into the depths. They too had the oval shape Simon already had seen at the first entrance. A ladder was leaning in the chamber’s left corner, leading to a hole in the ceiling. Jakob Kuisl inspected the ladder with his lantern. In the pale light Simon could make out its greenish, moldy rungs. Two of them had split completely. Simon wondered whether the ladder could still support anybody at all.
“It’s surely been standing down here for ages,” said Jakob Kuisl, tapping against the wood. “Perhaps one hundred, two hundred years? The devil knows where it leads. I believe all this is a goddamn labyrinth. We should call out for the children. If they’re smart they’ll answer us, and the hide-and-seek game will finally come to an end.”
“And if…if someone else should hear us?” asked Simon nervously.
“Bah, who would that be? We are so deep down in the ground that I’d almost be glad if our shouts could penetrate all the way to the outside.” The hangman grinned. “Maybe we’ll be buried and need help. It doesn’t look all that stable, especially that narrow tunnel at the entrance…”
“Please, Kuisl, don’t joke about this.”
Again Simon sensed the tons of dirt over their heads. In the meantime the hangman cast some light into the entrance on the opposite side. Then he called out into the darkness.
“Children! It’s me, Jakob Kuisl! You have nothing to be afraid of! We now know who wants to harm you. With us you’re safe. So be so kind and come out of there!”
His voice sounded strangely hollow and low, as if the clay all around them were sucking up his words like water. There was no answer. Kuisl tried it again.
“Children! Can you hear me? Everything will be all right! I promise you that I’ll get you out of here all in one piece. And if anyone harms as much as one hair on your heads, I’ll break every bone in his body.”
There still came no reply. Only the soft trickle of a rivulet somewhere could be heard. Suddenly the hangman slapped his flat hand against the clay wall so that whole chunks came loose.
“Goddamn it, get a move on, you cursed bunch of creeps! Or else I’ll spank your behinds so you won’t be able to move for three days!”
“I don’t think that this tone will convince them to come out,” opined Simon. “Perhaps you should…”
“Shush.” Jakob Kuisl laid his finger over his mouth and pointed toward the opposite entrance. A soft whimpering sound could be heard. It was very weak. Simon closed his eyes in order to make out the direction it was coming from. He couldn’t. He couldn’t tell with certainty whether it was coming from above or from the side. It was as if the voice was moving ghostlike through the earth.
The hangman seemed to have the same difficulty. Several times he looked up and then to the side. Then he shrugged.
“We shall have to split up. I’m going to climb up that ladder and you continue down into one of the tunnels. Whoever finds them shouts.”
“And if we don’t find them?” asked Simon, who almost felt ill at the thought of crawling once more through a narrow tunnel.
“Count to five hundred as you search. If you haven’t found anything by then, turn back. Then we’ll meet again here and we’ll think of something else.”
Simon nodded. Jakob Kuisl was already going up the ladder, which made ominous creaking noises under his weight. One more time he looked down at Simon.
“Oh, and Fronwieser…”
Simon looked up expectantly.
“Yes?”
“Don’t get lost. Or else they’ll only find you on Judgment Day.”
Grinning, the hangman disappeared through the hole in the ceiling. For a brief moment Simon could hear him in the chamber over him, then there was silence.
The physician sighed. Then he walked over to the two holes. They were of identical size and equally dark. Which one should he enter? Should he just play eeny-meeny-miney-moe? On a pure whim he decided to pick the hole on the right side.
When he cast a light into the opening he could see that the waist-high tunnel was indeed sloping down. The clay underfoot was moist and slushy, and tiny rivulets were running down into the depths on either side. Simon fell to his knees and tapped his way forward. He quickly noticed that the ground beneath him had the consistency of slimy water plants. He tried to support himself with his hands on the sides, but since he was carrying the lantern in his right hand, he kept sliding against the left wall. Finally he could no longer steady himself. He had to decide whether to let go of the lantern and hold on or simply let himself slide down. He decided in favor of sliding.
Simon slithered down. The tunnel was getting steeper and steeper, and after a few yards he felt the ground beneath him disappear. He flew through the air, and before he could cry out, he had already landed. At the impact with the hard clay floor, the lantern flew from his hand and rolled into a corner. Briefly Simon was able to make out a rocky chamber similar to the previous one, then the lantern went out.
Darkness swallowed him.
The darkness was so deep that it seemed to him like a wall that he had been thrown against. After the first moment of terror he groped along on his hands and knees toward the place he suspected the lantern to be. His hand moved over stones and clumps of clay, dipped briefly into a cold puddle of water, then he felt the warm copper of the lantern.
Relieved, he reached for the tinderbox in the pocket of his trousers so he could light the lantern once more.
It was no longer there.
He began to search his pockets-first the left, the right. Finally he burrowed into the inside pocket of his doublet. Nothing. The tinderbox must have fallen out, either as he fell into the chamber or even earlier as he crawled through the tunnels. Desperately he held on to the useless lantern while he knelt and blindly tapped around with the other hand, trying to find the lost box. Soon he reached the opposite wall. He turned around and felt his way back again. After repeating this procedure three times he gave up. He would never find the tinderbox down there.
Simon tried to stay calm. Everything was still completely black all around him. He felt as if he had been buried alive; his breathing quickened. He leaned against the wet wall. Then he called for the hangman.
“Kuisl! I slipped! My lantern is out. You must help me!”
Silence.
“Kuisl, damn it, this isn’t funny!”
He could hear nothing other than his own rapid breathing and an occasional trickling sound. Was it possible that the clay down here would swallow every sound?
Simon stood up and felt his way along the wall. After just a few feet his hand found emptiness. He had found the opening to the top! Feeling relieved, he felt around the spot. The approximately two-foot-wide hole started at chest level. This was where he had dropped down into the chamber. If he could manage to crawl up and back into the upper chamber he should actually meet up with the hangman. Though Simon had not counte
d to five hundred, his stay down here already seemed like an eternity. The hangman had certainly returned by now.
Then why didn’t he give any sign of life?
Simon concentrated on what lay before him. He took the lantern in his teeth, swung his body up, and was about to push himself through the tunnel when he noticed something.
The tunnel was sloping down at a slight angle.
But how could this be? After all he had fallen down into this chamber. Therefore the tunnel must be rising! Or was it a different tunnel?
Horrified, Simon realized that he had gotten lost. He was just about to let himself slide back into the chamber to look for the right tunnel when he heard a noise.
Whimpering.
It was coming from the tunnel in front of him, the one going down, and it was very close.
The children! The children were down there!
“Sophie, Clara! Can you hear me? It’s me, Simon!” he shouted down.
The crying stopped. Instead he could hear Sophie’s voice.
“Is it really you, Simon?”
An immense feeling of relief came over him. At least he had found the children! Perhaps the hangman was already with them? Of course! He had not found anything in the upper chamber, so he had climbed down again and taken the second tunnel. And now he would be standing down there with the children, playing tricks on him.
“Is Kuisl down there with you?” he asked.
“No.”
“Really? Children, you must tell me. This is no longer a game!”
“By the Holy Virgin Mary, no!” Sophie’s voice came from below. “Oh God, I am so scared! I heard steps, but I can’t get away because of Clara…”
Her voice changed into weeping.
“Sophie, you need not be afraid,” Simon tried to calm her. “The steps you heard were certainly ours. We are coming to get you out of there. What’s the matter with Clara?”
“She…she’s sick. She has a fever and can’t walk.”
Great, thought Simon. My lantern is out, I got lost, the hangman has disappeared, and now I also have to carry a child out of here! For a brief moment he felt as if he could weep just like Sophie, but then he pulled himself together.
“We…we’re going to make out all right, Sophie. For sure. I’m coming down now.”
He took the lantern in his teeth and slid down the tunnel. This time he was prepared for the fall. He only fell a couple of feet and landed almost softly in a puddle of ice-cold muddy water.
“Simon?” Sophie’s voice came from the left. He thought he could see her outline in the dark: a spot that looked a little darker and seemed to move slowly back and forth. Simon waved. Then it occurred to him how nonsensical that was in the dark.
“I’m here, Sophie. Where is Clara?” he whispered.
“She’s lying next to me. Who are those men?”
“Which men?” While Simon spoke, he crawled toward the outline. He felt a stone step and on it moss and straw.
“Well, I mean the men I heard above. Are they still there?”
Simon tapped his way up the step. It was as long and as wide as a bed. He felt the body of a child stretched out on it. Cold skin, small toes. Rags covering her legs.
“No,” he answered. “They…they’re gone. It’s safe. You can come out.”
Now Sophie’s outline was very close, right next to him. He reached for it. He felt a dress. A hand reached for him and held him tightly.
“Oh, God, Simon! I am so scared!”
Simon hugged the little body and stroked it.
“All will be well. Now all we have to do is…”
He could hear a scraping sound behind him. Something was slowly pushing through the opening into the chamber.
“Simon!” Sophie cried out. “Something is there! I can see it. Oh, God, I can see it!”
Simon turned around. At a spot not far from them, the blackness was darker than the rest. And this darkness was coming closer.
“Do you have any light down here?” screamed Simon. “A candle? Anything?”
“I have tinder and flint. It must be here somewhere…for heaven’s sakes, Simon! What…what is it?”
“Sophie, where is the tinder? Answer me!”
Sophie started to scream. Simon slapped her face.
“Where is the tinder?” he cried once more into the blackness.
The slap helped. Sophie quieted down instantly. She felt around briefly, then handed him a fibrous piece of sponge and a cool piece of flint. Simon pulled the stiletto from his belt and struck the stone in wild blows against the cold steel. Sparks flew, the tinder started to glow, and a tiny flame flared up in his hand. But just as he was about to light the lantern with the glowing fibers, he felt a draft from behind. The shadow fell over them.
Before the lantern went out a second time, Simon saw a hand swoop down in the fading light. Then darkness overcame him.
In the meantime the hangman had gone through two more chambers without finding any trace of the children. The room he had reached with the ladder had been empty. Shards of an old pitcher and a few rotten barrel staves littered the floor. In the corner alcoves there were recessed stone seats. They were scrubbed smooth and looked as if hundreds of frightened people had squatted in them over the years. Two tunnels led from this chamber into the darkness as well.
Jakob Kuisl cursed. This dwarf’s hole was indeed a damn maze! It quite possibly extended underground all the way to the church walls. Perhaps the priest had been right after all with his ghost stories. What secret rites could have taken place down here? How many hordes of barbarians and soldiers had already passed above, while deep down in the earth, men, women, and children listened fearfully to the conquerors’ steps and voices? Nobody would ever know.
Above the entrance to the tunnel at the left were a few marks that Jakob Kuisl could not figure out. Scratches, arching lines, and crosses that could be of human or natural origin. Here, too, the passage was so narrow that one had to practically push one’s self through. Could there be some truth to the stories that an old midwife had told him almost thirty years earlier? That the passages were built so narrow on purpose so that a body would surrender all that was bad, all sickness, all bad thoughts to Mother Earth?
He forced himself through the narrow hole and found himself in the next chamber. It was the largest so far, a good four paces to the other end, and the hangman was able to stand up straight in it. From there, a narrow passage went on in a straight line. There was another hole directly above Jakob Kuisl. Pale yellow roots, finger thick, were growing out of the narrow shaft, down to him, brushing over his face. Far above, the hangman thought he could see a tiny ray of light. Was it the moon? Or was it only an optical illusion, his eyes longing for the light? He tried to figure out how far he had moved away from the well in the meantime. It was quite possible he was standing directly beneath the linden tree, in the middle of the clearing. Since olden times, the linden tree had been considered a holy tree. The mighty specimen at the building site was certainly a few hundred years old. Had at one time a shaft led down from the trunk of the linden tree to this resting place of souls?
Jakob Kuisl tested the roots by pulling on them; they seemed to be tough and capable of supporting some weight. He briefly thought of pulling himself up on them to check whether they actually belonged to the linden tree. But then he decided after all to take the horizontal tunnel. If he found nothing on the other side he would turn back. Mentally he had continued to count. Soon he reached five hundred, the number he and Simon had agreed on.
He bent down and crawled into the narrow tunnel. This was the narrowest passage so far. Clay and stones scraped his shoulders. His mouth was dry, and he tasted dust and dirt. He had the impression that the tunnel was beginning to taper down like a funnel. A dead end? He was about to crawl back when he saw in the light of the lantern that the passage widened again after a few more feet. With difficulty he pushed forward through the last part of the tunnel. Like a cork being pulled from its
bottle he finally landed in yet another chamber.
The space was so low that he had to stoop. It ended just two steps further on, at a moist clay wall. There was no other passage. This was clearly the end of the maze. He would have to turn back.
As he turned again toward the narrow hole he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.
On the left side of the chamber, something had been scratched into the clay at chest level. This time they weren’t simple scratches or scribbles as before above the arch. This was an inscription, and it looked as if it had been made pretty recently.
F.S. hic erat XII. Octobris, MDCXLVI.
Jakob Kuisl caught his breath.
F.S.…that had to be the abbreviation for Ferdinand Schreevogl! He had been here on the twelfth of October, 1646, and he had obviously wished for posterity to know about it.
The hangman quickly calculated back: 1646, that was the year the Swedes had occupied Schongau. The burghers had been able to prevent the burning of their town only by paying a high ransom. In spite of this, all the outer boroughs of Schongau, that is to say Altenstadt, Niederhofen, Soyen, and even Hohenfurch, fell prey to the flames in the following two years. Kuisl tried to remember. Schongau, as far as he knew, had been surrendered to the Swedes in November of 1646. That meant that if the old Schreevogl was down here already in October of the same year, it could only have been for one reason.
He had hidden his fortune here in the maze.
Jakob Kuisl’s thoughts were racing. The old man had probably always known of the tunnels, an old family secret that he had finally taken to the grave. When the Swedes came, he buried the major portion of his money down here. Jakob Schreevogl had told Simon that hardly any money was mentioned in his father’s will. Now the hangman knew why.
The old man had left the treasure down here all that time, probably expecting hard times to come! And when he had a falling-out with his son he had decided to bequeath the land together with the treasure to the church-but without telling the church anything about it. There had been some hint, however. What was it that Schreevogl had once told the priest?
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