The year of our Lord, 1478. The hubbub retreated within the city walls. People grumbled. The body hanging from the gallows had gone limp all too soon. But Jan Korvernaarsson had earned it. Wasn’t it said: he who rapes a woman is despised? The young woman, feeling quickening life inside her, had shaken her clenched her fists against the dangling body. He, who had wanted to soften her heart with all kinds of tales. But she didn’t like him, and he had grabbed her anyway…