16th-century Europe was teeming with werewolves. The infestation reached such alarming proportions that it was practically impossible to stroll through a village without bumping into one. Every hamlet had its own personal lycanthrope, conveniently named after the village itself. It was, no doubt, a public safety nightmare. Thankfully, the Church, with its unparalleled dedication to the public good, had a solution: highly skilled inquisitors, well-trained in the art of exposing these nefarious creatures and saving humanity from Satan’s Naughtiness.
It was from these noble inquisitors that the history of these terrifying beasts—along with their inevitable eradication—was passed down for posterity, to ensure that such monsters would never again rise to darken the sun. One such heroic tale involves Peter Stump (or Stubbe), the infamous Werewolf of Bedburg.
Peter Stump, born around 1530 near Bedburg in the Holy Roman Empire, was a successful farmer, widower, and father of two. His surname, “Stump,” was likely a reference to his missing hand—a key piece of evidence in the trial that would send shockwaves through the tiny village and become a permanent fixture in the annals of infamy. A missing hand is always a red flag, right?
Stump’s secret? A shocking and grotesque passion for murder and cannibalism. Labelled an “insatiable bloodsucker,” Stump started small, picking off cows, pigs, and goats. But soon, these lesser beings didn’t quite satisfy his appetites. Naturally, he graduated to humans. And there, he found his true calling. Of his 18 alleged victims, two were unborn children, their hearts described as “dainty morsels” which Stump purportedly devoured “panting hot and raw.” He even killed his own son, bashing his brains out and slurping them up. Quite the family man.
Now, let’s pause for a moment to give the Devil his due. These crimes wouldn’t have been possible without a proper pact with Satan. From the tender age of 12, Stump was a black magic enthusiast, and in exchange for his unwavering devotion, Lucifer bestowed upon him a magical girdle. When worn, it transformed Stump into “the likeness of a greedy, devouring wolf,” complete with eyes that “sparkled like fire” and a body “mighty and huge.” Apparently, this was an essential accessory for any self-respecting werewolf.
But wait—there’s more! In addition to his murdering and cannibalizing, Stump was also quite the fornicator, particularly when it came to incest. He was said to have enjoyed liaisons with his daughter and other distant relatives, a habit his young mistress Katherine, also a witch, was happy to encourage. What a charming family dynamic.
Things were going swimmingly for Stump until he encountered some very irate villagers who, during one of his lycanthropic murder sprees, managed to sever one of his paws. A missing paw is, as it turns out, a rather convenient way to identify a werewolf. With the paw in hand (so to speak), Stump and his cannibalistic clan were arrested and dragged before the authorities for trial.
Enter the inquisitor: a man of impeccable dedication and zeal for justice. Without his tireless efforts to extract a confession, these lurid details might have stayed buried forever. Of course, the confession didn’t come easily. First, Stump was strapped to a wheel, and ten strips of flesh were torn from his body with red-hot pincers. Still no confession? No problem! The inquisitor simply had all of Stump’s bones in his arms and legs broken with an axe handle. After all that, Stump finally confessed, and the evidence was presented. Verdict? Guilty. Punishment? Death. Simple as that.
It remains unclear whether Peter Stump actually survived long enough to face execution. Regardless, he was beheaded and burned on a pyre, with his mistress Katherine and daughter Sybil, who had already been flayed, joining him in the flames. Presumably, they too had confessed to their crimes—because after all, who wouldn’t confess after that level of “persuasion”?
Despite the lurid and sensational confession, there was no actual evidence that Peter Stump had committed any of the crimes he admitted to—except, of course, the confession itself. A confession obtained through torture, mind you, which was a pretty standard practice in those days when the goal was to secure a “guilty” verdict regardless of the truth. So, while the Church and its inquisitors may have believed they were ridding the world of a monster, all they really did was condemn a man based on nothing more than his coerced words and a missing paw. But hey, what’s justice when you’ve got a werewolf to catch?
Jason Roberts is a Seattle-based author noted for his acclaimed western horror series The Dead Wind Trilogy as well as other works of cosmic horror infused with historical fiction. His web-based series, Dark Distractions examines paranormal mysteries, unexplained phenomena, and all things strange.
