The Diary of Caspar Kruse III, Executioner: Goslar, April 4, 1633 – A New Servant

 His name was Bastian. A boy from the Harz, from Clausthal, where the air smells of ore and pine. He did not come to me out of calling, nor out of need, but out of Zwischenraum. A silent figure, tall of stature, with hands that fit tools like vises. When I asked him why he applied, he said: “I have learned little. Except carrying.”

Bastian became my servant when I had only just taken over my father’s office. I already knew the tools, but not the silence of assistance. He filled that silence. Not with words, but with presence. He always stood one step behind me, but never hesitating. Screwed thumbs like a carpenter working with softwood. Laid ropes with care for the knot, not for the flesh.

After the first interrogation with him, I saw his shoulders tremble. He sat outside the Ulrichskapelle on the stone ledge, his hands black with oil and blood, his eyes fixed into the distance.
I asked nothing.
He said: “My father was a carpenter. He made windows. I do not know how I ended up here.”
And I nod.




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