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fallow fields outside of town, a prospect that caused Magdalena to shudder, after hearing the wagon drivers’ gloomy accounts of their strange finding down at the river. What in God’s name was lurking in the forests around Bamberg?
    Hastily the Kuisls bade farewell to the old farmer, who was visibly relieved to finally be rid of them, then made their way toward the narrow pedestrian gate next to the vehicle entrance, arriving none too soon. Some time had passed since the bells in the clock towers had signaled the end of the day for the Bambergers, many of whom had been working their little vegetable patches outside of town. The night watchman with his key to the city was standing by the gate, beckoning the last of them to hurry. He looked concerned, almost anxious. He asked the Kuisls briefly why they were there, then quickly closed the gate behind them.
    “Get moving,” he shouted at Barbara, who was at the end of the procession of wagons, giving her a shove. At the same time he pointed at the sun, which had just set behind the western part of the city wall. “Soon it will be as dark here as in hell.” He shivered and rubbed his hands together. “Damned autumn nights—the daylight fades faster than you can say amen. ”
    “If it makes you shiver so much you shit in your pants, perhaps you should have become a baker and not a watchman,” Kuisl replied with a grin as he passed under the archway, which was much too low for him. “Then you’d already be in bed with your wife, kneading her fat behind.”
    “If I were you, I wouldn’t shoot off my mouth like that, big fellow. What do you know about this damned city?” The watchman seemed to want to say something else, but then he just shrugged and shuffled up the steep stairway to his room in the guardhouse to begin his regular nightly duties.
    Magdalena peered ahead at the dark forms where the first houses began. The last time she’d been in a large city was some years ago in Regensburg. At that time, the sun had been shining, it was midsummer, and the size and splendor of the buildings had nearly taken her breath away. On the other hand, there was something depressing about their arrival in Bamberg. It might have been the time of year; with the arrival of autumn, the nights had suddenly turned cool, and mist was rising from the moors and settling like a heavy blanket over the roofs of the town, first in little wisps, then in larger and larger clouds. The wide road leading up to the gate quickly branched into a labyrinth of unpaved, winding alleys.
    With dark fingers, dusk reached out toward the crooked half-timbered houses, so that Magdalena could only imagine the size of the city. It was said that Bamberg, like Rome, was built on seven hills, and in fact Magdalena could see three dark hills in the southwest of the city, with the cathedral, the landmark of the city, standing majestically on the one in the middle. Atop the hill on the right, the outline of a large monastery was visible in the fading light of day, and a bit farther away, engulfed in mist, the ruins of a castle. In front of her, Magdalena could hear the rushing of water in a canal or river. At least the stench here was not as overwhelming as by the city gate.
    The many carts and wagons that had just a short while ago been backed up behind the city gate were now clattering toward their destinations, finally disappearing in the growing darkness. While Magdalena wandered through the filthy, stinking alleys with her family, she heard occasional laughter, hasty footsteps, or squeaky wagon wheels, but otherwise everything was quiet. The hangman’s daughter was familiar with such quiet nights in Schongau, but for some reason she had imagined that Bamberg would be livelier and happier. The loneliness in the dark lanes had something oppressive about it, something sinister.
    Like in a cemetery, she thought, tying her scarf more tightly. I wonder if the others feel the same way?
    She looked around at Simon