The Brixen Witch (10 page)

Mistress Tanner shook her finger at the blacksmith. “Have you forgotten last night already? That storm was the witch’s doing, and if you ask me, so are the rats. But all you can think of is money. I’d like to see you try and venture to Klausen while the witch is abroad.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” answered Marco. “I’ve done nothing to vex the witch. Has anyone here done so?”

There was a wave of muttering and emphatic head shaking. Only Rudi knew the answer to Marco’s question, but he could not find the courage to speak up.

The blacksmith continued. “Of course we haven’t. And yet she torments us. Rats. Storms. Why?”

Marco stopped in midbreath. His eyebrows bunched together. Rudi thought he could almost hear the rusty gears creaking inside the man’s head.

And then the gears clanked into place, and Marco’s face became a picture of triumph. “Of course! There can be only one reason for this new plague of rats. Herbert Wenzel is in league with the witch!”

The muttering erupted into gasps and exclamations. The mayor banged his gavel, but no one paid attention.

“Now see here!” said Otto the baker. “I’ve known Herbert Wenzel nearly my entire life. He’s no more in league with the witch than your own children are, you scruffy oaf of a blacksmith!”

Rudi felt a wave of unease rising in his chest.

“Oma!” He shook her shoulder. “Say something.”

“Me? These fools aren’t listening to each other. Why would they listen to me?”

Rudi winced in frustration. What about Herbert Wenzel? It was not right that an innocent man should have his name dishonored simply because a collection of panicked villagers had been tormented to their wits’ end. Someone had to speak up.

Before he could lose his nerve, Rudi pushed his way to the platform at the front of the hall, snatched the gavel from the mayor’s hand, and smacked it
on the table with such force that its handle broke with a
CRACK
.

The room fell silent. Mouths hung open, and all eyes were upon Rudi.

He cleared his throat, and then he forced himself to speak.

“Master Wenzel is not in league with the witch. I worked alongside him for six days, in the worst conditions. Yet he was nothing but patient and good humored. He is an honest and decent man, and I cannot let you talk of him this way.”

Rudi looked down at the room full of stunned faces and decided that, while he had their attention, he should make good use of it.

“Nor are these rats the witch’s doing,” he continued, with a glance toward Oma, who nodded her encouragement. “Master Wenzel told me so, and of all people, he knows about rats. I believe him, and so should you.”

Otto the baker applauded. “The boy speaks sense.”

“The boy is only a boy,” declared Marco. “What does he know of the witch and her cohorts? And you, Master Otto—perhaps you’ve known the rat catcher all your life, but he lives afar, and you can only vouch for his behavior a few days out of every year. How can you know what he does in Klausen when you’re not there?”

There was a new assortment of murmurs and head scratching. Rudi caught sight of Not-So-Old-Mistress Gerta whispering into Oma’s ear. Then the two women pushed through the crowd and out the nearest door.

“I sorely hate to say it, but I think the blacksmith here is right.” It was Mistress Tanner again. “All my respect to young Rudi here, who’s an able lad and is kind to my Susanna Louisa, as silly a child as children come. But bless me! How can Herbert Wenzel claim the rats are not the witch’s doing? They can be nothing else!”

“He seemed like such an honest fellow,” said the mayor, scratching his bald head.

Mistress Tanner snorted. “How else would you expect a servant of the witch to act? Such folk are cunning and sly. Of course they’ll act honest and decent, so’s to lull you into complacency. Then they lay a hex on you that sticks forever.”

The crowd gasped as one. Now that Oma was gone, Rudi was beginning to feel quite lonely and small.

“Well spoken, my dear Mistress Tanner!” declared Marco. “Besides, young Master Rudi here is not exactly an innocent bystander. Did he not also profit from the rat catcher’s escapade? Here he is, with quite a full purse to show for his activities. I’ll wager he stands to earn even more if the rat catcher comes back a second time.”

This was too much for Rudi. He dug in his pocket for the few pennies he carried and tossed them onto the table.

“Here! I earned three florins working for Master Wenzel. The rest is at home, but you can have that too.” Rudi forced back the angry tears that welled up behind his eyes. He drew himself up and spoke in a voice that was as loud and as steady as he could manage.

“Master Wenzel is not in league with the witch. He had nothing to do with the blight of rats, either before or now. I swear this as true fact.” Rudi could hardly believe such bold words were coming from his own mouth, but he dared not stop himself. He must admit to everyone, in a clear voice and in a public place, that the blight of rats was no one’s fault but his own.

“See what I mean?” said Marco. “The lad is twelve years old. How can he swear such a thing? He’s only making noise.”

“No!” Rudi protested. “I’ll tell you how I know.”

“Leave the boy alone,” declared Otto the baker. He scraped the coins off the table and handed them back to Rudi. “He earned his wage honestly. Besides, it’s no use to argue over the cause of this blight. The question is, how do we get rid of it?”

From somewhere in the room came a persistent thumping. Rudi looked around, as did everyone
in the hall. Then Rudi saw that the thumping was caused by a walking stick, as a hand methodically tapped it on the floorboards.

Little by little, the crowd fell silent.

“If I may,” said the stranger who held the stick, “I can get rid of your rats once and for all.”

THE CROWD stared openmouthed at the man who had spoken.

From his position on the mayor’s platform, Rudi had a clear view of the stranger, who wore a drab oilskin cloak and a tattered hat that partly hid his face. Something about him was unsettlingly familiar, but Rudi could not recall how or why.

Finally, the mayor cleared his throat and performed his official duty. “Welcome, sir, to Brixen. What brings you to our village, and how is it you know our particular … situation and how to solve it?”

The stranger gave a nod. “You honor me with your kind greeting, Master Mayor. I am but a traveler, on my way to Petz. Have you been to Petz? As I walked through your lovely village, I
could not help but notice two things. Firstly, there was no one about, which I thought quite odd on such a fine day as this.”

Rudi glanced up. Rain was beginning to batter the windows.

The unsettled feeling churned in Rudi’s stomach. Where had he seen this man before? The memory he wanted remained stubbornly beyond his grasp.

“Secondly,” said the stranger, “there seemed to be quite a few, er, vermin about, and of a very bold nature, if I may say. In fact, in all my travels I’ve never seen such a display. Do you know I just watched a rat scamper along a clothesline as if it were solid ground?” He pointed vaguely toward the outdoors as if to prove his claim.

Was that a bit of color Rudi glimpsed beneath the man’s cloak?

The stranger continued. “Then I heard a hubbub coming from this hall, so I thought I’d step inside to see what sort of festivity might be under way, and—well, I walked into the midst of your conversation, and I hope you’ll excuse me for that. But if I may say, what a lucky day for you as well as for me! As it happens, I have quite a way with pests of all kinds.”

“We’ve heard that before,” grumbled Marco. “You don’t know a scoundrel from Klausen named Wenzel, do you?”

“I’m afraid not,” said the stranger. “At any rate, here I am. At your service.” He took off his threadbare hat and bowed as best he could in the crush of villagers.

Rudi gasped.

It was the face in the window. The man in Rudi’s nightmares, with hair like a thistle burr and a shirt of motley patches hiding beneath his cloak.

This was the witch’s servant.

“Oma?” Rudi croaked, but she had gone off with Not-So-Old-Mistress Gerta and had not returned.

Why had he come? What did he want? Would he finally bring his wrath down upon Rudi for taking the witch’s coin? And yet, though Rudi stood in full view on the platform, the stranger showed no sign of knowing him.

But Rudi had earned the stranger’s wrath, while his neighbors had not. He opened his mouth to expose the malevolence in their midst, but he could not force out a sound.

What would be the use anyway? Marco the smith had already bullied nearly the entire hall into believing that Rudi was nothing but a silly child who craved attention. They wouldn’t believe a word Rudi said, least of all a claim that the witch’s true servant was standing among them now.

“And how do you propose to rid us of this
pestilence?” said the mayor, and Rudi feared that the villagers were so desperate for relief from the rats that they were likely to agree to almost anything.

“I have devised a practice all my own,” said the stranger. “I can explain it if you wish, but does it matter how? The proof will be in the result. Let me add: I can give you an absolute guarantee.”

At these words, even Marco the blacksmith appeared interested. “Every last rat?”

The stranger nodded. “Every last rat, once and for all.”

Dread gripped Rudi’s throat so that he could scarcely breathe. Such a promise could never be fulfilled. Not by earthly means.

Then Marco’s eyes narrowed. “One moment, sir. A guarantee is all well and good, but at what cost? We’ve already paid a pretty penny—for empty promises.” He cast a dark eye at Rudi, who glared defiantly back.

“Ah yes, well,” said the stranger, nodding politely toward the blacksmith. “Understandable, I’m sure. And yet, from the looks of things hereabouts, may I say you seem to be running short on choices?”

The mayor cleared his throat and pulled at his mustache. “We will hear you out, sir, but you must know that Brixen is not a wealthy town.
Our coffers, quite frankly, lie even closer to empty than usual, due to … recent expenses. So then, if you’d be so kind. Before we continue this discussion, perhaps we should discuss a price for your services.”

A grin spread across the stranger’s face, and his eyes gleamed. “A price? Well, yes. There’s always a price.”

“Let’s hear it then, man,” declared Marco. “How much do you plan to swindle us for?”

“Master Smith, mind your tongue,” interrupted Mistress Tanner. “Our visitor has been nothing but good natured and agreeable. And he is offering to solve our desperate problem. Goodness knows we haven’t been able to solve it any other way.” And she turned toward the stranger and curtsied. “Excuse that dunderhead, kind sir. There’s one in every village, and he’s ours.”

Rudi could scarcely believe his ears. Wasn’t it Mistress Tanner who’d admonished him only a few moments ago that any servant of the witch would be sly and cunning? Would lull a person into complacency?

The stranger waved his hand. “Never trouble yourself, mistress. The gentlemen are right to ask the question. Yet no one would expect the good blacksmith to forge a set of hinges and hasps without proper compensation for his trouble and
his skill. The more delicate the task, the higher the payment, is that not so? It’s no different for myself. Surely anyone can understand that.”

The crowd gave a collective shrug, and then there came a scattering of nods.

“Spoken well and plainly,” said the mayor from the platform. “Which we all applaud, and if you truly can perform this service—and offer an absolute guarantee—the entire village of Brixen would be most grateful, I’m sure. Still—what
is
your fee?”

The stranger smiled kindly. “Your situation appears to be most dire.”

“Yes,” said the mayor. “It is. Please, name your price.”

Now the stranger’s eyes shone in muted triumph. “My price,” he said, “is one golden guilder.”

A huge commotion erupted in the hall. Villagers gasped in shock, and some recoiled from the stranger in their midst.

With sudden and horrifying clarity, Rudi understood everything. The witch had not recovered her coin after all. Crude hex or no, she had indeed sent the rats, and now her servant, to root out the coin and return it to her at last.