The Poisoned Pilgrim (UK Edition) (A Hangman's Daughter Tale Book 4) by Oliver Pötzsch

Author:Oliver Pötzsch [Pötzsch, Oliver]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: AmazonCrossing
Published: 2013-07-15T23:00:00+00:00

After her father donned his monk’s robe and left hurriedly to look around some more, Magdalena wandered aimlessly with her children through the busy streets in front of the monastery. She alone seemed to have nothing to do and was annoyed Simon had taken off so quickly, even though she realized he was the only one caring for the count’s son. Still, she wished he would spend more time with his family.

With a sigh Magdalena let Peter drag her along to one of the many stands displaying pictures of saints, candles, and little rosaries. Over the past few days, shops like this had shot up all around the Holy Mountain like mushrooms out of the ground. They sold small hand-size votive tablets for the devotional corner in homes, overpriced glass pictures of the monastery, candles, rosaries, badly printed Bible verses, and little charm necklaces with prayers for divine intercession attached. Magdalena remembered a conversation with Jakob Schreevogl some time ago in which he told her that both the Schongau burgomaster and the count were doing a brisk business with these religious knick-knacks, but if the count’s son was really as sick as everyone feared, all this would be for naught for the Wittelsbachs. No one had ever been able to buy off death with money.

Magdalena caught Peter just as he was reaching for a rosary. “For God’s sake, keep your hands off that,” she scolded. “That’s nothing to play with.” When she pulled her elder son away from the stand more roughly than she intended, he began to cry, and then the younger boy joined in.

“Father! Where’s Father?” Paul whined. “I want my father and grandfather.”

“I’ve got to disappoint you,” Magdalena snapped. “Those high-and-mighty gentlemen are occupied with more important things now, so you’ll have to settle for your mother.”

When the crying didn’t stop, she reached frantically into her jacket pocket and pulled out a few candied fruits to quiet them down. She continued alongside a flock of pilgrims in grey penitential robes who were singing and praying in the monastery square in preparation for the next mass.

Magdalena clenched her teeth to keep from cursing. She felt so worthless. It seemed that everyone around her had something to do; only she was condemned to care for the children. To make matters worse, she had been feeling ill again all morning but had said nothing to Simon so as not to upset him even more. Secretly she’d examined her tongue in a polished copper dish and was relieved to see no tell-tale greyish-yellow sheen. Whatever was bothering her, then, seemed not to be the nervous fever.

Magdalena was so absorbed in her thoughts that it took her a few moments to notice a hand on her shoulder. Startled, she turned around and found herself looking into the smiling face of Matthias. He rocked his head coquettishly and made a face that caused the children to break out in loud laughter.

Magdalena, too, had to smile. The boys seemed to have really taken a shine to the mute fellow, just as she had, she admitted to herself again.

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