I didn't like this book anywhere near as much as I liked The Hangman's Daughter. The setting is the same: Bavaria several years after the thirty years war. The hangman, his daughter, and the town medicus again play the prominent roles. And I like all three of these characters. But I don't think they developed much in this book. Nor did the book play to the strength of the first book by showing interesting aspects of life in a small German town in the 17th century.
Rather, the book decided to focus almost entirely on the mystery aspects of the first book. And for me, it was the worst sort of mystery. I've never much liked scavenger hunts, and I like reading about them even less. This book was kind of like The DaVinci Code meets The 39 Clues. Some Templar monk has created a series of indecipherable clues that will inevitably lead to the greatest treasure in Christendom. We get led from one clue to the next, and each one is a little more boring and impenetrable than the last.
In comparison to this, there is a side story about the hunt for some bandits who have been terrorizing the local merchants. Highway robbery was a very big deal in those days, and the human jetsam from the Thirty Years war increased the ruthlessness and desperation of lots of people, thus making the occupation more attractive. The way the hangman deals with the robber chief in this book is the part I liked the most. It was simple, dramatic, and moving. There wasn't much mystery to it, but it felt much stronger and more real to me. I think Potzsch has the talent to write really good stories with these characters, and I wish, in this book at least, that he didn't lean so heavily on a gimmicky mystery plot to drive things along.
Finally, there were a few moments in this where I was struck by seeming anachronisms. At one point, one of the characters is surprised that a woman could "curse like a longshoreman." This bothered me when I read it, and I looked up what I could find probably only because I was going to write this review. Why was I bothered? Bavaria is landlocked, so how likely is it that anyone would have experience with longshoremen? But, you may object, its just a commonplace expression. Was it, though? In 1660? In Germany? It turns out that the word longshoreman wasn't coined until 1811 or so. The older word, "stevedore," which is from Spanish or Portugese didn't find usage until the mid 1700s. That by itself is not so bad, because perhaps the ideas involved pre-date the words. But even here, it seems like the occupation of a longshoreman arose in the American Colonies by people who unloaded goods from ships that came from the Old World, and the occupation itself probably comes after the time setting of this book. That's one of the dangers of writing historical fiction.