The Brixen Witch (5 page)

At these words, Rudi felt a familiar, prickly feeling. What did it mean?

Then a hand grabbed his elbow. He started, but only for a moment. The hand was Oma’s.

“Pay no attention to that fool,” she said as they shuffled home together. “Sometimes a rat is just a rat.”

IT WAS A hot midafternoon in June. Rudi and Papa had come indoors for lunch, and they stayed in for a bit of a snooze in the cool, dark cottage.

Just as Papa’s snores filled the house, something banged on the door, startling Rudi awake. He shook the grogginess from his head and opened the door, squinting in the bright sunlight.

Susanna Louisa, the tanner’s sweet little skittish child, was bouncing on the doorstep.

“You knock loudly for such a mite of a girl,” Rudi said without further greeting.

In answer, Susanna Louisa held up a stone that was as big as her fist.

“Ah,” said Rudi. “No wonder. Why did you knock with the stone?”

“So someone would open your door. People can
always hear me better when I knock with a stone.”

Rudi stifled a smile and shaded his eyes with his hand. “It worked. Now what?”

Susanna Louisa blinked, and then she stood up straight and cleared her throat, as if just now remembering the purpose of her visit. “Mama says can we borrow your cat.”

Rudi shook his head. “We haven’t got a cat.”

“Yes you do,” said Susanna Louisa. “I’ve seen it in your barn. The gray and white stripey one.”

“Zick-Zack? She’s not ours, really. More like she belongs to herself.”

“Even so,” said the girl. “I need her.”

“Then go catch her,” said Rudi.

“I can’t. She’s too fast. And she scratches.”

“Then I suppose you can’t have her, can you?” And Rudi yawned and turned, ready to close the door.

“Wait!” cried Susanna Louisa. “Mama says we need a cat. Very badly. Can you help me find a cat?”

Rudi had the feeling he would regret asking his next question, but curiosity got the better of him. “And why do you need a cat?”

“To eat the mouses,” said Susanna Louisa. “Mama says we have too many and she can’t catch them all herself and Papa is no use so we need a cat.” She took a breath. “A hungry cat would be best.”

Rudi scratched his head. “Zick-Zack has plenty of mice to eat around the barn, so even if you could catch her, I don’t think she’d be much help. What about Old Mistress Gerta? Doesn’t she have a house cat? You could ask her.”

Susanna Louisa shook her head. “I asked her already, but she says no. Says she’s got mouses too and can’t spare her cat.” The little girl blinked a teary eye. “I’ve asked everyone. Everyone says the same thing. Everyone has mouses.” She hung her head, let the stone fall from her hand, and began trudging homeward.

“Wait!” called Rudi. He pulled on his boots, closed the door behind him, and fell into step beside her in the dusty lane. “What do you mean, everyone has mice?”

Susanna Louisa shrugged. “That’s what everyone says. I say we need to borrow a cat, and everyone says no, we can’t spare the cat because of the mouses.”

“You’re sure you’ve asked everyone?”

Susanna Louisa nodded. “I saved you for last. Because you only have that nasty mean ZickZack, and I didn’t want to try and catch her. But Mama is near going mad. She told me, ‘Don’t come home without a hungry cat in your arms, Susanna Louisa, or you’ll be sleeping with mouses in your bed tonight.’” And Susanna Louisa stopped
walking, stood on her tiptoes, and whispered to Rudi, “I don’t want mouses in my bed.”

Rudi stopped too. The little girl looked so forlorn and worried that his heart melted.

“What if I help you catch the mice?”

“You?” said Susanna Louisa, and her face brightened. “Do you know how?”

“Well …,” said Rudi, not quite ready to admit his shortcomings to an eight-year-old, “I’m sure it can’t be that hard. We’ll go back to my house and get a bit of cheese. Then we’ll set some traps, and
poof
! No more mice.” He smiled down at Susanna Louisa, but resisted the urge to pat her on the head.

“Oh, no,” said the girl solemnly. “We’ve tried that. For days. It does no good. It seems the more we trap, the more come out of hiding. Under the floorboards, amongst the thatch, in the wood pile. It’s a regular mousie party!”

Now they had arrived at the tanner’s cottage. Susanna Louisa’s house.

From inside, Rudi could hear scuffling and cursing and muffled
thwack
ing. Then the door opened and two black rats scurried out, followed by a large, red-faced woman waving a broom in their wake. The rats vanished under the house, and the woman narrowly avoided smacking Rudi with the broom.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, straightening herself and tucking a lock of hair under her cap. “Good afternoon, Rudi. What brings you here this sweaty day?”

Rudi kept his eye on the mistress and her broom. “Susanna Louisa,” he said quietly, “those were not mice.”

But Susanna Louisa was nowhere to be seen.

Mistress Tanner shook her head. “She’s gone to stand on a rock in the middle of the stream. Poor child thinks rats can’t swim.” And Mistress Tanner plopped down on her doorstep, rested the broom across her lap, and bit her lip.

“Mistress?” ventured Rudi. “Susanna Louisa says your … problem might be worse than usual?”

Mistress Tanner sighed and wiped her eyes with her apron. “It’s the time of year for them, I know,” she said. “What with the warm weather and the abundance of smells. Still, this is worse than anything I’ve ever seen. The smith next door says so too, and the miller, and the baker, and everyone. It seems the vile things are overrunning Brixen. It’s not a good sign.” She yelped, and reached under herself, and pulled a young rat out by its long naked tail. “See this? They’re hardly afeared of humans at all.” She flung the creature to the side, where it squeaked and scurried toward the woodpile.

Rudi scratched his head. “We don’t have such a problem at our house.”

Mistress Tanner snorted. “Just wait.”

As Rudi wandered homeward, he recalled the words he’d overheard that night in the village square, weeks before:
’Tis bad luck to see a rat in the shadow of the churchyard wall … Nothing good can come of that.

Rudi had feared, upon hearing those words, that the Brixen Witch had leveled a new curse upon him, and upon all his neighbors too. But he could think of no reason for it. His nightmares were gone. Certainly the witch had recovered her coin.

Besides, the villagers of Brixen were a superstitious lot. They claimed enchantment and omens with every turn of the weather and with every stillborn calf.

And yet …

Even if the witch had not recovered her coin after all, why would she curse the entire village?

Rudi shook himself. The infestation of rats was only a coincidence. A result of the warm weather and abundant food, and nothing more. Besides, if the rats were an enchantment, wouldn’t Rudi’s own house be overrun with the creatures?

He turned a corner and wandered up the lane toward home.

As he approached his own front door, he heard
a shriek coming from inside the cottage. The door flew open, and his mother ran out with a bundle in her apron. She shook it frantically, and out tumbled a large, pink-tailed rat.

Mama looked at Rudi, her eyes wide and her chest heaving. Then, without a word, she stepped back into the house and slammed the door.

Through the open window, Rudi could hear Oma somewhere inside,
tsk
ing.

And Papa was still snoring.

MISTRESS TANNER’S words proved to be prophetic. In short order, Brixen was indeed overrun with rats. Rats in the woodpiles, rats in the thatch, rats in the stream (poor little Susanna Louisa). Rats spilling down chimneys and onto hearths, scorched tails and all.

To be sure, rats were nothing new in Brixen. Much like mosquitoes and vipers and the surly barn cat Zick-Zack, rats were vile, unwelcome, barely tolerated creatures, but they played a role in the natural order of things. They provided a home for fleas. They gave parents a reason to scold children who ventured too near to dark and unhealthy corners.

But this June, something was different.

The rats were worse than ever before. True, it
was an especially warm summer, but there had been other warm summers. The cats had done all they could and were fat to prove it, but it was not enough. The dogs chased whatever rats ventured into the open, but rats were stealthy creatures, and they easily avoided a species that excelled at napping. Traps, as Susanna Louisa had told Rudi, could catch only so many rats. And there seemed to be more every day.

Rudi began to suspect there was a curse after all. He decided to ask Oma about it.

“Enchantment?” she said, and then she hummed a bit to herself, thinking. “Are you sure you’ve had no more nightmares since the snows melted?”

Rudi shook his head emphatically. “I sleep like a rock every night.”

“Then I still say the witch has retrieved her coin. If this is a new enchantment, it’s not your doing.” Oma shrugged. “Then again, sometimes a rat is just a rat. There’s one way to find out.”

“How?” said Rudi.

“If ordinary measures get rid of the rats, then there can be no enchantment. Yes?”

“I suppose so,” said Rudi. Then he frowned. “What ordinary measures have we not already tried?”

Oma tapped her own forehead. “The mayor will know.”

“He will? How will the mayor know?”

She patted Rudi on the cheek. “Because I’m going to tell him, that’s how.”

That very evening, Rudi overheard a conversation in the bustling village square.

“Did I not say so weeks ago?” said a familiar voice. “I told you it would come to no good. And now here we are.”

It was the voice Rudi had heard that night in the spring, when the trouble with rats had first begun. Now he saw that it belonged to Marco, the village blacksmith.

Oma, who had been dozing on a bench, jerked awake at the words. She stood and addressed the blacksmith, who was more than twice her size.

“Ah, Master Smith. Did you also predict that the sun would rise this morning?”

After a few seconds looking around, the blacksmith’s gaze fell upon Oma, who stood more or less as high as his rib cage.