The Brixen Witch (11 page)

“You must be mad!” exclaimed Marco.

“I’m sure we heard him wrong,” said Mistress Tanner. “No one has seen an actual golden guilder
in generations, much less used one as currency. They’re too precious and rare. Guilder coins are made of mostly copper nowadays.”

“He knows that,” barked Marco. “Even where he comes from.” Then he turned toward the stranger. “Where
do
you come from?”

Mistress Tanner gave the stranger a nervous little curtsy. “Isn’t that what you meant, kind sir? A copper guilder?”

The stranger’s smile did not fade. “No, mistress. You heard me well.”

Mistress Tanner turned pale, and another commotion erupted in the hall.

“You must come from the moon, then,” said Marco, his face growing red. “In these parts, one golden guilder is worth upwards of ten thousand florins.”

“May as well ask for the crown jewels,” declared Otto the baker. “Because we haven’t got them, neither.”

The mayor banged the head of his broken gavel until he could be heard. “Such an amount is quite impossible, sir! Even if we piled every coin, every scrap of gold, every ring from every finger, it would not add up to one golden guilder.”

“Nevertheless,” said the stranger, “that is my price.” He settled his hat upon his head. “You may contemplate my offer. I’ll be back tomorrow.” The
stranger tucked his walking stick under his arm and strode toward the door.

“Wait!” called Rudi from the platform. “We’ll pay your price. We’ll pay you one golden guilder.”

THE STRANGER turned. He cocked an eyebrow at Rudi, but still his face betrayed no recognition. Then he bowed. “Smart lad. I like you.”

“But you must give us three days.”

The stranger considered for a moment. “Very well,” he said finally. “You can pay me after three days.” And he left the hall.

The villagers stood in stunned silence for a heartbeat. Then they erupted into shouts of anger and distress.

“You fool of a boy!” said Marco. “What were you thinking?”

“I’d say he’s a clever boy,” said Otto the baker. “He’s given the stranger three days to understand how preposterous his request is. Now when he comes back we can have a real discussion.”

Rudi shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I know where—”

“What’s there to discuss?” said Mistress Tanner. “How many different ways we can’t pay that man?”

Marco scowled. “A golden guilder! What does that rogue take us for? We could pay Herbert Wenzel to catch rats every day until the freeze comes, and it would not cost a fraction of that amount.”

Rudi tried again. “But I can get—”

“There’s something disquieting about that man,” said Mistress Tanner with a shudder. “Did you notice how cold the room became when he was here?”

“That’s because he is the witch’s true servant.”

No one moved. No one breathed. Rudi himself could scarcely believe the words he’d just uttered.

Marco pushed forward. “How do you know this?”

Rudi wished Mama and Papa were there. He wished Oma would come back. But he was on his own. “I’ve seen him before. He wore the same shirt of motley patches.”

The crowd grew restless. “I saw only a drab cloak,” muttered one man, but Rudi saw fear in his eyes.

“And the room grew cold. Did you not say so just now?” said Rudi.

“It might have been only a draft,” said Mistress Tanner, but she could not meet Rudi’s gaze.

“The boy speaks truth,” said Otto the baker, stepping onto the platform and placing a hand on Rudi’s shoulder. “We all know the old stories. I’ve heard the witch’s servant described just that way, by my own grandmother when I was a boy. He’s menaced us before, and he’s doing it again.”

“But why would the witch send her servant to Brixen now?” said another voice. “Haven’t we been cursed enough?”

Only Rudi could answer such questions. And so, with a mixture of trepidation and relief, he finally confessed his sin.

“There truly is a golden guilder. An enchanted coin. The witch’s coin.” He told them everything, leaving out no detail—how he stumbled upon the coin that day in October, when he was on the mountain. How he tried to return it the very next morning but lost it in the avalanche. And how, as a result, he had brought this torment upon his good and decent neighbors.

Rudi held his breath and waited for the response he knew must come.

“You?” said Mistress Tanner in disbelief. “
You
are the cause of all our grief?”

Rudi gulped and nodded. “But I can—”

“Just a moment!” thundered Marco, and he
pointed an accusing finger at Rudi. “You stole the witch’s gold?”

“No!” said Rudi. “I mean yes—I mean it was an accident!”

“Leave the boy alone,” said Otto. “He just told you what happened. It was an innocent blunder. Besides, what’s done is done.”

Rudi tried again. “I know where to look—”

“Well, isn’t that a fine surprise,” said Marco, and a grin spread across his face. “Our boy here stole the witch’s gold.”

“He’s telling stories,” someone said. “Don’t your cows need milking, lad? Go home to your chores now, and let adults tend to adult matters.”

Rudi opened his mouth to protest, when there came a gust of damp air as the rear door opened.

It was Oma. She looked from face to face, frowning in puzzlement. Then she made her way to the front of the hall as the villagers stepped aside to let her pass. When she reached the platform step, she motioned for Rudi to help her up.

“Where were you?” he whispered to her. “You won’t believe what’s been happening.”

“Wouldn’t I?” she said. “Master Mayor, a word, if you please.”

The mayor bustled over. He and Oma conferred for a moment in hushed tones. Then the mayor’s eyes grew wide, and his face grew pale.

Oma stepped to the front of the platform, raised a hand, and waited. Little by little the crowd noticed, and it hushed itself into silence.

“I have sorry news,” she announced. “Old Mistress Gerta has died.”

The crowd gasped.

“It comes as no real surprise,” Oma said. “She was the oldest in the village, and she’d been ill since the spring, as we all know. It was simply her time.”

There came another gust of wind as the door opened once more. “The rats! I’ve come to warn you all. It was the rats!”

Not-So-Old Mistress Gerta stood in the open doorway. “My dear old mother, falling victim to this nasty, evil pestilence! They tortured her day and night with their scurrying and their skittering and their gnawing and their nibbling. The rats killed my mother!” And she blew her nose and wiped her red eyes. “I must get back home. But I’m telling you all. Don’t think you won’t be next!”

With a sob, Not-So-Old Mistress Gerta left the hall, and the door slammed shut behind her.

A commotion erupted then.

“I must go home too!” said one voice.

“My babies!” cried another.

“Bring the stranger back,” said Mistress Tanner. “We have no choice. Pay him whatever he wants!”

Oma nudged Rudi. “The stranger?”

“The witch’s servant. He was here! He promised to rid us of the rats for good. For the price of a golden guilder.”

Oma’s eyebrows shot up. “A golden guilder? That can mean only one thing.”

Rudi gave a fretful nod. “The coin is still missing. It must still be buried on the mountain after all. Who knows what the witch and her servant will do if they don’t get what they want? We must find the coin.
I
must find it. I’m the only one who knows where I dropped it.”

Oma sighed. “And so you must.”

The mayor pounded his broken gavel once more, but no one paid any heed.

“Poor, poor Gerta,” wailed Mistress Tanner. “To see her dear old mother done in by rats! I wouldn’t wish such a fate on anyone!” Her gaze fell upon Marco the blacksmith. “Not even you!”

Once more, Oma stepped forward and raised a hand, until a restless quiet settled over the crowd.

“Let’s not lose our heads,” she said. “Mistress Gerta is distressed and full of grief. She cannot say for certain that the rats killed her mother.”

“Can you say for certain that they didn’t?” said Mistress Tanner, who was close to tears herself. “If that stranger truly is the witch’s servant, all the more reason to pay him what he asks and be rid of him as well as the rats. We must search every
corner of every house. We must find whatever gold we can, and hope it’s enough to satisfy him.”

Heads nodded in agreement, and the crowd began to buzz with renewed energy.

“I have an antique gold florin that my grandfather gave me when I was a boy,” said an old man. “It’s a collector’s item! Minted during the reign of King Balthazar the Elder, before he went mad. I’m willing to part with it for a good cause.”

Rudi’s stomach flipped. They did not understand that the witch and her servant would be satisfied with nothing but the golden guilder itself. He tried once more. “But the stranger only wants—”

“You see?” said another voice. “Master Mayor, we may yet collect a golden guilder’s worth. And we have three days to do it.”

“Please!” said Rudi, but no one heard.

“Save your breath,” Oma said to him. “Let them busy themselves digging for their treasures and their trinkets. In the meantime, you can do what you must do.”

The mayor held up his hands to quiet the crowd. “It’s decided, then. Find whatever gold and silver you can spare, and hold nothing back. We’ll reconvene here in three days’ time. Good luck to us all.”

And with a bang of the broken gavel, the meeting was adjourned.

THE DOORS of the hall were flung open, and the villagers shuffled out into the misty morning.

Rudi and Oma lagged behind, and made their way home through an eerie quiet. Where had everyone gone so quickly? Perhaps the spitting rain had chased even the children indoors. Perhaps the news of Old Mistress Gerta had already made its rounds, and the village had begun its mourning. Perhaps everyone had decided that they’d finally lost their battle with the rats, and so had finally lost heart. Rudi couldn’t blame his neighbors for hiding indoors. He wished he could do the same.

“No,” he said to himself. “Now is my chance to make things right.” He dared not think about what might happen if he could not find the coin. He would find it. He
must
find it.

They came upon Old Mistress Gerta’s house, where the doorway was already draped with black cloth.

“Let me see how Gerta and her children are faring,” said Oma. “Go now. Gather what you need to find that coin.” Oma glanced up at the Berg, which loomed over Brixen like a storm cloud. “I’m glad it’s you going up there. If anyone can find it, you can.” She patted his cheek and disappeared into the house.

Rudi continued on his way, wishing he felt as confident as Oma did. He crossed the village square and was nearly home when he heard a curious noise. He looked around, and his brow furrowed. There was something familiar about the sound.

Then, with a sudden dread, Rudi knew. It was the tuneless song he had heard months ago; the music of the enchanted coin; the distant playing of a pennywhistle.

No. Not a pennywhistle this time. What was it?

A fiddle.

Someone was scraping a bow across the strings of a fiddle. The sound echoed off the cobbles and the timbers, so that Rudi could not tell where it was coming from. The curious music grated against his eardrums, but it was also oddly soothing. He went to cover his ears, but then he stopped, unable to resist its plaintive wail.