Infant mortality in those days, like an insatiable reaper, reigned in the Bavarian lands, and no house could feel safe. Every child born came into the world with the mark of vulnerability, like a thin sprout that had to break through rocky soil. And few succeeded in this. Typhus, diphtheria, measles, scarlatina – the names of these diseases sounded like ominous spells, dooming infants and children to a painful death. There were no vaccinations, no effective medicines, only prayers and herbal decoctions, which more often brought comfort than healing. Poor hygiene was everywhere: dirty water from wells, crowding in cramped huts, where both people and livestock gathered in winter, lack of basic knowledge about germs and infections. Diseases spread like a forest fire, engulfing entire villages. Mothers watched in horror as their children faded before their eyes, as their bodies became covered with rashes, as they were suffocated by coughs. They wiped the sweat from their foreheads, whispered prayers, hoped for a miracle, but miracles rarely happened. Even if a child survived a serious illness, he remained weak and defenseless against other dangers: hunger, lack of warm clothes, hard labor, which began at the age of five or six. Many children simply did not live to adulthood, taking with them unrealized dreams and unfulfilled hopes. In the cemeteries outside the villages, children’s graves occupied entire rows – faceless mounds covered with grass and wildflowers, a sad reminder of how fragile and short life was in those times.

The death of the child was another blow for Cäzilia, although outwardly she endured it silently and without tears. The loss certainly left its mark, but hardly anyone noticed it behind her usual submission and humility. In the harsh realities of life on the farm, where every day was a struggle for survival, there was simply no room for long grief. One had to work to survive, and Cäzilia continued to perform her duties as if nothing had happened. But what was going on in her soul remained a mystery.

 
Chapter 6
Land and Blood
1910—1914
 

In those days, land was not just capital; it was the cornerstone of life, a source of livelihood and social status. Intrigues were always woven around land ownership, conflicts arose, and destinies were decided. The Hinterkaifeck farm was no exception.

In 1885, when the issue of succession to the farm was being decided, the documents were drawn up in the name of Cäzilia Senior. This was in accordance with a long tradition common in Bavarian peasant families: land, as a rule, was inherited along the female line. This rule existed not because of feminist beliefs, but for pragmatic reasons. It was believed that women were more attached to the land, to the hearth, and therefore would be better able to preserve the integrity of the farm, without dividing it among numerous male heirs.

However, after the marriage of Cäzilia Senior in 1886, her husband Andreas Gruber naturally became a co-owner of the farm. This was quite common. The husband, entering into marriage, took on obligations to manage the farm, help his wife in managing the land, and provide for the family. In return, he received the right to a share of the profits, the right to vote when making important decisions concerning the farm, and, importantly, a certain social status.

Andreas Gruber was a co-owner of the Hinterkaifeck farm for almost thirty years, until 1914. During this time, he undoubtedly played a significant role in the development of the farm, making decisions, participating in field work, and interacting with local residents.

However, working on the farm was never easy, and sometimes even a strong peasant family needed help from outside. This was especially true during periods of sowing and harvesting. At such moments, it was almost impossible to do without hired workers.

In those days, many were looking for work, but not everyone was willing to put up with the bad character of Andreas Gruber. The Hinterkaifeck farm had a bad reputation, and therefore hired workers did not stay here long. They appeared only for the season to do the hardest work, and then hurried to leave this troubled place.

In the cold season, when the main field work ended, the need for seasonal workers disappeared. Family members coped with current affairs on their own. The only exception was the maid. Cäzilia, due to her age and illness, could no longer cope with all household duties, so a woman who helped around the house lived on the farm permanently.

After 1914, sole ownership passed to their daughter Viktoria. By that time, Viktoria was already 35 years old. Viktoria Gruber, whose fate could already be called difficult, was officially considered the owner.

Viktoria, a girl, as she was described, modest and pretty, was forced to bear the burden of her father Andreas’s bad reputation. The residents of the surrounding area perceived her primarily as the owner of the land, a «rich heiress.» Unfortunately, this often attracted not the most honest people to her.

In April 1914, Viktoria Gruber, the daughter of the owners of the Hinterkaifeck farm, Andreas and Cäzilia, married the farmer Klaus Briel.

And although at first glance this seemed like an ordinary union, many in the village whispered that Klaus was guided more by selfish motives. Perhaps he hoped to improve his shaky financial situation by marrying the daughter of wealthy farmers. Unfortunately, such marriages of convenience were not uncommon in those days, especially in rural areas, where land and wealth were of great importance.

A month before the wedding, as if foreseeing trouble, Viktoria’s parents made an important decision. They transferred ownership of most of their property to their daughter. Perhaps this step was dictated by concern for Viktoria’s future, a desire to provide her with at least some protection in case of unforeseen circumstances. Thus, after the conclusion of the marriage, three-quarters of Hinterkaifeck officially passed into the possession of Viktoria, and the remaining quarter went to Klaus, her husband.

Driven, probably, by a sincere desire to create a strong family and contribute to the common cause, Klaus embraced his new status with enthusiasm. He moved to his wife’s house, the Hinterkaifeck farm, and, rolling up his sleeves, began working for the benefit of the farmstead. He worked hard in the field, helped around the house, trying to prove his worth and usefulness. He probably wanted to earn the respect of Victoria and her parents, to become a full member of the Gruber family. He naively believed that hard work and dedication would help him win their hearts and create a solid foundation for a future marriage. He did not yet know that the real reason for the problems lay not in his lack of hard work, but in the dark secrets hidden within the walls of the Hinterkaifeck farm.

In the village, Victoria and Klaus’s marriage was talked about little, and even then in whispers, as if afraid to scare away the already fragile semblance of family happiness.

«Victoria is certainly a striking woman, but Klaus, it seems to me, needed a housekeeper, not a wife out of love,» gossiped old Frau Schmidt, sitting on the porch and shelling sunflower seeds. Others, more observant, noticed: «I saw them at the fair once. They walked side by side like strangers. They didn’t exchange a word, didn’t exchange a glance.» There were also whispers that Klaus had long refused this marriage. «Poor Victoria! She thought she would find support in Klaus, but he only loves her land,» compassionate Gretchen sympathized with her.

All these whispers and gossip added up to a depressing picture, like barbed wire entangling the Gruber house. No one spoke about it openly, but everyone felt that there was a chasm between Victoria and Klaus. «Klaus needed the farm, not a wife,» they said furtively. Sympathy for Victoria mixed with disdain for Klaus, and the overall atmosphere was more like a pre-storm silence than a family hearth. And even the most pessimistic residents of Hinterkaifeck understood that this marriage would not end well.

Just a few agonizing weeks after the wedding, Klaus Briel, as if feeling like a prisoner in a golden cage, to the surprise and gossip of all Hinterkaifeck, suddenly left the farm and returned to his parents in the modest village of Lak in the Neuburg-Schrobenhausen district. Officially, the reason for his departure was never announced, shrouded in vague hints and omissions. However, behind the veil of silence, passions were boiling and versions were multiplying.

Some whispered that the reason was the unbearable atmosphere in the Gruber household, where the stern and authoritarian Andreas, Victoria’s father, kept all the household members under his thumb, and Klaus, accustomed to more freedom, felt oppressed and humiliated. Others claimed that the reason was a banal conflict with Victoria, whose views on life and farming turned out to be completely incompatible with his own.

It was said that their marriage cracked almost immediately, like ice under the spring sun. Quarrels between Victoria and Klaus shook the silence of Hinterkaifeck, some heard cries even beyond the outskirts. «Victoria was wailing like for the dead,» whispered old widow Seiler, who lived next door, «and Klaus was growling like a beast in a cage.»

The few witnesses to these quarrels noticed in Victoria’s eyes not only tears of resentment and disappointment, but also some hidden fear, as if she was afraid not only of her husband, but of something more. And in Klaus’s eyes, there was not just irritation, but open disgust, as if Victoria was not a wife to him, but a burden. «You can see he didn’t marry her for love,» Frau Miller shook her head, «but only because of the land. And now he’s taking out his anger.»

Others added that they had seen Klaus leaving for the forest after quarrels and wandering there for a long time, as if seeking solace in solitude. But what he was really looking for remained only to be guessed.»

There was also a third version, the dirtiest and most indecent, which was spoken about in hushed tones, behind tightly closed shutters. It concerned Andreas and his relationship with his daughter, Victoria. It was whispered that there was a connection between father and daughter that made the blood run cold, going far beyond ordinary family feelings. «He’s awfully affectionate with her, the old tomcat,» said one compassionate neighbor, spitting over her shoulder. «He looks into her eyes like she’s a young maiden.»

Rumor had it that Klaus, feeling superfluous and unwanted in this perverse triangle, preferred to flee rather than witness an unhealthy attachment. It was said that he was often away from home, supposedly earning money, but in reality, he simply couldn’t bear the atmosphere that reigned on the farm.

But many did not believe the version about Klaus’s escape. His disappearance was too suspicious, leaving Victoria with elderly parents and the farm. Rumors circulated that Andreas himself had gotten rid of his unwanted son-in-law so that no one would interfere with his dirty deeds.

Only decades later, in 1952, a new detail of Klaus Briel’s convoluted story surfaced, told by Jakob Knecht, one of the hired workers who worked on the Gruber farm. Huber claimed that, in his opinion, Klaus could never reconcile himself to the unhealthy closeness between Victoria and her father, Andreas. «He wasn’t one to put up with that sort of thing,» Huber allegedly said, hinting at the unbearable atmosphere in the house. It remained unknown whether Klaus was planning a divorce from Victoria, seeking to break this vicious circle, or whether he simply fled, not having the strength to resist the Gruber family demons.

One way or another, Klaus’s decision to leave Hinterkaifeck immediately after the wedding cast a shadow over the entire Gruber family and became a harbinger of impending misfortune. It was like a crack in the foundation of a house, foreshadowing an imminent collapse. Klaus’s departure to Lak gave rise to many questions that were never given clear answers, only giving rise to new rumors and speculation, which, like poisonous roots, sprouted in the hearts of the residents of Hinterkaifeck.

However, the fact remained: just four months after fleeing to Lak, on August 14, 1914, Klaus Gabriel enlisted as a volunteer in the military registry. In the «Reason for Enlistment’ column, it was written in a crooked hand: «Patriotic duty.»

But who knows what duty actually drove him into the inferno of World War I? Perhaps a duty to his country, or perhaps a duty to himself, to prove that he was not a coward, not a fugitive, but a real man.

It is noteworthy that, when filling out the documents, he indicated the address in Lak as his home address, completely erasing Hinterkaifeck from his life, as if this farm was a cursed place, stained with blood and lies, from which one had to run without looking back. And he ran. He ran towards the war, towards gas attacks, trenches, mud, and death. He ran there, where human life was worth nothing, where yesterday’s peasants and artisans were turned into cannon fodder, where entire generations perished for the ambitions of kings and generals. He ran to hell, hoping, perhaps, to find there deliverance from the hell that haunted him on earth.

On December 12 of that same year, 1914, another tragedy befell the Gruber family, as if an evil fate was haunting their heels. News arrived from the front, sealed with a wax seal and permeated with the smell of gunpowder and death: Klaus Briel, had fallen bravely somewhere on French soil, fighting in the ranks of the Kaiser’s army. The dry, bureaucratic wording («fell bravely for the Fatherland’) did not say a word about what he felt in the last moments of his life, what he was thinking about, whom he was remembering.

The news of her husband’s death reached Victoria while she was carrying their daughter, little Cäzilia, under her heart, condemning the newborn to orphanhood even before she was born. Victoria was doomed to widowhood and the heavy burden of raising a child alone.

In Hinterkaifeck, as in many Bavarian villages, mothers without husbands were treated with restraint, if not wariness. A child born out of wedlock was considered a stain on the family’s reputation, and the mother was seen as a woman who had made a mistake. Of course, no one would shout insults openly, but she would feel that she was being shunned. Respectable citizens would try not to linger on her, as if afraid of getting dirty. Married women would whisper behind her back, discussing who the father of the child was and how this could have happened. The priest, although he would not curse her from the pulpit, his sermons about the purity of marriage would sound to Victoria like a personal accusation. There would be no open hostility, but she would feel a cold detachment, as if an invisible wall separated her from the rest of the village.

And who could say what weighed heavier on the heart: the pain of loss (even if not the happiest) or the fear of a future in which she and the child would have to survive in this atmosphere of wariness and condemnation?

After Klaus’s tragic death at the front, Victoria, in addition to grief and the burden of widowhood, faced the need to resolve property issues. According to the laws of that time, the quarter of the Hinterkaifeck farm that had previously belonged to Klaus was inherited by his closest relative – Victoria.

Thus, Victoria Gruber became the sole owner of Hinterkaifeck. All three-quarters of the property that had previously belonged to her parents, and the quarter inherited from her husband, were now at her full disposal. She became not just the mistress of the house, but also the official owner of the farm, bearing full responsibility for its maintenance and prosperity.

It would seem that this fact should have strengthened her position and ensured her a stable future. However, in the case of Hinterkaifeck, owning property became more of a curse than a blessing, placing on her shoulders an unbearable burden of responsibility and attachment to a place imbued with grief and secrets. The status of official mistress only increased her dependence on Hinterkaifeck, preventing her from breaking out of the vicious circle of tragedies that haunted this farm.

 
Chapter 7
Absolute Power
 

1910—1915

After Klaus’s death, life on the Hinterkaifeck farm seemed to freeze, bound not only by grief, but also by a kind of oppressive, lingering silence. The days dragged on monotonously: working in the field, tending to the livestock, caring for the child, endless chores around the house. Victoria, with her extinguished gaze and haggard face, seemed to have turned into a shadow of herself. But, as is known, silence is deceptive. Behind the closed shutters of peasant houses, gossip was brewing, which with each day became louder and bolder.

And it wasn’t just her widowhood or her illegitimate child. There were rumors, dark, indecent, that made some cross themselves, as if warding off evil forces. These rumors concerned her relationship with her father, Andreas Gruber.

Victoria, a beautiful and self-confident woman, the lead singer in the church choir, now seemed broken. Before the war, she was the sole mistress of the yard, made decisions, and was respected… or, rather, she was feared. There were rumors that she was not averse to male attention, although perhaps these were just envious gossip, born of her independence. But, as it turned out later, during the investigation, there were three men willing to swear that they sought a closer relationship with Victoria.

Andreas, tall and strong even after sixty years, always kept the farm in his iron grip. Judicious, but quick-tempered – the village remembered at least two cases when he used a pitchfork and a gun. It’s strange that the signs of a break-in on the eve of the tragedy did not frighten him. Perhaps he was too confident in his own strength, too accustomed to defending his territory. But was he defending only territory?

The version of violence on the part of Andreas against his daughter Victoria, despite the lack of direct evidence, seems frighteningly plausible, especially in the context of that era and social structure. Reasoning logically, one can reconstruct a chain of events that pushes towards this gloomy conclusion.