Tales of the Wonder Club Volume II Part 16

"I concluded, therefore, that I must have been mistaken, and must have laid the bottle down somewhere else without thinking, so I thought no more of it.

"On the same day I was called to cut the hair of a gentleman at the other end of the village, when I pa.s.sed a friar who appeared to be the same as he who not long ago had entered my shop. I looked at him in the face, but he had a black beard. I could have sworn it was the same, for his amice was patched in a peculiar manner on the shoulder, as was that of the first friar."

"Is this the amice that the friar wore?" asked Engstein, holding up the patched garment.

"It is like it. I could all but swear to it."

"Did you address him when you met him, as you thought, a second time?"

"I was about to do so, but he pulled out his beads, and began counting them. Not liking to disturb him in his devotions, I pa.s.sed on, thinking that after all I might have been deceived."

"That is sufficient, you may go."

The little barber left the court, and another witness was called for.

"Your name?"

"Max Offenbrunnen."

"Profession?"

"I am host of the Bear Inn in the village of M----."

"Can you tell us anything that happened at your inn within this last week?"

"Yes; three days after the murder a Capuchin friar stopped at my inn and called for a tankard of beer. He kept his hood down all the time, so that I could not see his face, but I remember that he had a black beard, and I also noticed that he had a patch in his amice over one shoulder of rather an unusual form."

The patched garment was held up again in court, and recognised also by the third witness, after which he proceeded as follows:--

"He called for more beer, and I began to enter into conversation with him and asked him where he came from. He told me from a Capuchin convent at W----, about a mile off. Just at that moment another friar, an old friend of mine, pa.s.sed my inn, who belonged to the aforementioned convent.

"'Then you know each other,' said I to my friend the second friar, and I sought to bring them together, but my friend, after eyeing the former from head to foot, denied all knowledge of him. The first friar then somewhat confusedly stammered an excuse, saying that he had spoken without thinking, but that he had intended to say St. Mary's, another Capuchin convent, six miles further off. Then my friend the second friar said that he knew all the friars at St. Mary's, but still denied that he knew this one.

"The former began to mumble that he had only lately arrived, and began to turn the conversation. My friend whispered to me that he didn't believe he was a friar at all, but someone in disguise. After my friend had left, the former friar called for more beer (I never saw a friar drink so much beer as this one), and being curious to discover who the man was I tried to draw him out. At first he answered cautiously, but after drinking deeper he became less cautious and more confidential, but his utterance was now thick and unintelligible. He drew his chair closer to mine, and seemed about to let me into some secret, when some other customers of mine at the next table began to talk about the murder.

"I noticed that the would-be friar started, and instead of continuing his conversation with me, got up suddenly and muttered some excuse for taking his departure. He paid me hurriedly by lying down a Reichsgulden, saying that whatever change there might be I might keep for myself. He had hardly left my house when certain of the guard who had been on the track of the murderer stopped to question him, and finding he could give no satisfactory account of himself, took him into custody."

Other witnesses were then examined in their turn, among which were certain members of the family of the murdered count, and a certain Fraulein von Berlichingen, his affianced bride, all of whom recognised the body to be that of the missing Graf von Waffenburg. The silken purse with silver beads picked up by the first witness was also recognised by Fraulein von Berlichingen as having been knitted by herself and presented by her to her lover.

The remains of the murdered count were decently interred. The melancholy event caused no small commotion in the neighbourhood. The funeral was followed by a large crowd of relatives and intimate friends, among which were our two heroes Fritz and Ludwig. The grief of Fraulein von Berlichingen was too great to allow her to appear at the funeral. She was inconsolable, and shortly afterwards entered a convent.

But to return to the trial.

The prisoner was now conducted into court. He was a man somewhat pa.s.sed middle-age, though his frame was square built and powerful, and his hair, beard, and eyebrows were of a deep black, yet an observer might have noticed that whenever a ray of sunlight entered the court and shone full in the face of the prisoner that his hair and beard turned to a glowing purple, demonstrating beyond a doubt the presence of dye. Those who chanced to be stationed near the prisoner declared afterwards that the hairs of his head towards the roots were of a bright red, and many were they who recognised, in spite of this disguise, the person of Franz Wenzel, the executioner.

The prisoner, however, when examined, gave his name as Adolf Schmidt, and denied stoutly that he was Franz Wenzel, or to having ever had dealings with such a person.

He denied having stolen a bottle of hair dye for the purpose of disguising himself, and maintained that he was an honest citizen who had donned a holy garb for penitence, which had been imposed upon him by his father confessor.

The prisoner was then asked if such were the case, why he had tried to deceive the host of the Bear Inn and the Capuchin friar when they asked him whence he came. To this the prisoner replied that he loved not to gratify the idle curiosity of others respecting his private affairs.

Ludwig Engstein then asked the prisoner how he came in possession of the friar's amice, for which he responded that it had been lent him some time ago by his father confessor, who had obtained it from some Capuchin friar of his acquaintance.

When asked for particulars concerning his father confessor, he replied vaguely and confusedly, and when begged to be more explicit, he refused, saying he had private reasons for not divulging the affairs of his friends.

Other witnesses were then called for, who stated that they had been robbed of money and various sorts of ware more than once within the last three years, about half a (German) mile from the house of the Scharfrichter by a man who wore a mask, and who corresponded in height and width of person to the prisoner. Among these latter was a Jew pedlar, who three years ago had been robbed of a large sum and various articles of clothing, among which he declared was the identical friar's amice held up in court, and which he perfectly remembered to have patched himself.

This and such like evidence naturally went very much against the prisoner; neither will it be wondered at that his disguise was easily seen through, and his person recognised as that of Franz Wenzel, the executioner. He was consequently found guilty of wilful murder and finally condemned to be beheaded. The day of the execution was fixed, and the prisoner conducted to the condemned cell.

We have mentioned before in an early part of this story that the profession of the headsman was hereditary, that the law forced the son of an executioner to follow in the steps of his father.

The unhappy wretch then, according to this law, was doomed to lose his life at the hands of his own son. Much speculation, however, among the inhabitants of ----dorf had arisen as to whether the law would actually enforce so rigorous a decree, and whether the son of the Scharfrichter would rebel against it if it did, or bow submissively to so harsh and unfeeling an order.

Some there were who thought that an exception ought to be made in this case, and a new Henker selected, as it was hard for the son to suffer for the crimes of the father; but even if the law were disposed to be lenient, who was the new aspirant to be? Who would like to come forward to offer his services?

The office of the Scharfrichter was in such bad odour that it would be difficult to find a man in the whole village who could be persuaded to undertake the task, even by the offer of a large reward.

However, after much speculation and gossip, the inhabitants came to the conclusion that everything might be done with money, and that someone would be certainly found to accept the bribe.

Others began to spread throughout the village that the man had already been found, and ventured to point out such or such a citizen as the new pract.i.tioner. Meanwhile the law had remained pa.s.sive and had not troubled itself to make an exception in the case, and the burgomaster who had the superintendence of such affairs was far too phlegmatic and indifferent even to give the matter a thought.

He knew that an execution had to take place, that someone would be paid for amputating the head of the criminal, but whether it was to be one man's duty or another's was all the same to him.

The headsman's trade was hereditary, and he (the burgomaster) had never heard of any such innovation as that of selecting a new headsman during the lifetime of the rightful heir; therefore, as a matter of course, the young Scharfrichter was to decapitate his own father, and there was an end of the matter.

What to him were the feelings of the son at being forced to obey so unnatural a dictate? He was paid for it like anyone else, and very good pay he got, too.

What to him was the additional anguish of the criminal at being executed by his own son? He knew well enough that his son would step into his shoes when he himself should be deprived of office, and if he didn't like to lose his head at the hands of his own son, he ought to have reflected before he committed the murder.

Now, the burgomaster had a confidential servant, one Heinrich Gobel, a man of heartless and revengeful nature, who cherished an ill-will against the prisoner's son for having dared to supplant him in the affections of a certain blue-eyed damsel, the daughter of a tavern-keeper in the village.

The father of the lady in question was not over pleased with the attentions of either of these individuals towards his Lieschen, one of the aspirants for his daughter's hand being a drunkard, the son of an executioner, who besides the stigma inevitably attached to his character for life, would be obliged to maintain his daughter by the scanty proceeds of his loathsome profession.

The other, a man of notoriously bad character, and dependent upon the wages he received from his master for a living. Of the two, the maid herself decidedly favoured Leo Wenzel, the young headsman, and seeing this, Heinrich Gobel inwardly resolved to take vengeance on his rival upon the first opportunity.

Whilst plotting vengeance thus in his heart, Gobel sought his master and shaped his conversation in this wise:

"Herr Burgermeister, this will be a somewhat difficult business, this execution."

"How so?" inquired his master.

"Why, according to law," answered his servant, "young Leo will have to take the life of his own father."

"Well, what of that?" said the burgomaster.

"They say he is a young man of spirit, and he might refuse to take his father's life."

"Refuse! would he? The law will force him."

"But if he is obstinate and persists? He is a young man of spirit."