Much against his will, Master Johan – whose ascetic looks naturally suggested he was the starving victim of vile highway robbers – was put to bed and then the maids took him some food. From his bed he looked round the beautiful low-ceilinged attic room and was baffled by all the pictures on the walls. He regretted now that he had presented himself as being in poor health, as he was unable to observe much from his bed.
She was a good woman, the mistress of the house. Of humble birth perhaps, but radiating warmth from her lively eyes. She seemed so happy! Johan had rarely known happy people in the circles in which he moved. Of course there was the fanatical joy brought on when they had captured a great many witches in one day or triumphed over the evil within themselves – but suddenly he found he was beginning to doubt that this was the only true happiness.
Taking a deep breath Master Johan sought reassurance for his many years of faith in the words of Peder Palladius. ‘Witches shall now reap their reward. In the brightness of this sacred day they can survive no longer. The shame of the world is upon them – banish them from this world! It is no less than they deserve. In Denmark they are hunted like wolves and once more in the city of Malmo a pack of them are to be burned. On the island of Als they recently burned fifty-two women as witches, as each one denounced her sister and they followed each other to the other world …’
These sweet thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sight of a small boy standing in the doorway of his room.
‘Good day, young man,’ said Master Johan. ‘What is your name?’
‘Are Tengelsson, sir. I ‘m seven years old, nearly eight. Are you sick?’
‘Not very.’
‘You will soon get some help. But father is not at home and Sol is in the forest doing magic.’
Master Johan sat up with a start. ‘Sol – is that your sister?’
‘Yes.’
‘You say she does magic?’
‘Of course.’ The boy came closer. ‘She can cure you from anything at all – just by mixing her powder. And she can make things disappear. And tell what’s happening in another place.’
‘That’s clever,’ said Johan, his heart racing. ‘I should like to meet her.’
Someone called from downstairs and the boy was gone but Master Johan could barely contain his excitement. This was almost too easy. Yet he still needed evidence and could do nothing lying in a bed pretending to be exhausted. The next moment the door was pushed back and Johan gasped. A man the size of a giant swept into the room with his cloak flapping in his wake. To Johan, lying flat on his back, it was unnerving to see this grotesque spectre appear, like some spirit of the underworld. Almost as wide as the door through which he entered, he had yellow eyes which glared harshly at him from a demonic face and Johan very nearly screamed out to his heavenly father for protection.
‘Are you hurt?’ said the figure in a hard, grating voice.
So this was Mister Tengel! The demon who was able to cure the most persistent of ills. He seemed tired, however, his sunken eyes dry from lack of sleep. He should be lying here, not I, thought Johan. ‘N...no, I am not hurt,’ replied Johan, stuttering with fear. ‘Just very fatigued. But I am well cared for.’
‘Let me look at you,’ said Tengel pulling back the quilt. Master Johan curled into a ball. ‘No, no. That is not necessary. There is nothing amiss.’
He was greatly worried that Tengel would find the papers he had hidden in a small leather pouch on his belt. He had written down all the things he must identify to show he was among witches and sorcerers. but it was not usual to be so thorough. If a cow had ceased to give milk it was enough that the wife of a neighbour be accused of putting a spell on it. If a man broke his arm then it would be because a woman in the neighbourhood (one he didn’t like) had willed it or given him the evil eye.
It was also common for women they had already imprisoned as witches to give the names of others, many others, when they were tortured. These other women would be taken in and questioned before being put to the supreme test – for example in the ducking pond. If a woman was thrown into the pond, it soon became clear if she was a witch or not – if she floated to the surface she was a witch and was burned. If she sank and drowned then she was innocent. It was so simple and easy to understand!
Truly, our Master Johan considered himself to be a knight in the service of the Kingdom of Heaven, saving the world from these messengers of evil in the name of the Lord God. Unfortunately such simplistic measures were out of the question in this case. Woe betide them if they took the gentry’s most respected miracle worker without proper evidence of witchcraft and sorcery!
‘As you will,’ said Tengel, throwing back the cover. He assumed the man in the bed was shy.
‘I – I feel better already,’ said Johan quickly. ‘Perhaps I can get up tomorrow?’
Tengel peered into his face, assessing him. He had the feeling that all was not as it seemed. Master Johan saw the sceptical scowl and became even more afraid. I must leave here as soon as possible, he thought, before this creature kills me. He could easily do so, if he wished.
Tengel studied the man a moment longer, then turned on his heel and went out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Left alone, Master Johan breathed a deep sigh of relief and before long fell into a fitful doze.
****
He surfaced only gradually from his slumber some time later and at first did not remember where he was. Then he was suddenly wide awake. It was dark outside and somebody stood beside his bed, candle in hand.
‘You are a bear,’ said a laughing and happy-sounding female voice that reverberated through his skinny torso like shining pearls falling from a broken necklace.
‘What’s that?’ asked Master Johan in a dazed voice.
What, he could see now, was a young girl gave her joyful laugh once more and sat down on the edge of his bed without the slightest trace of shame or modesty! But she could not be very old, he thought. And what self assurance she had.
‘In folklore there is a tale,’ she continued in that beguiling voice, ‘I wonder if you have heard it? By day you are a bear, but by night you are a handsome prince. You lie in the same bed as the princess, although they don’t say that in the story. But of course I know what they did together! Anyway the princess wanted to see what he looked like, so she went into the room carrying a candle. Some wax fell on him and he woke up very, very angry. Were you angry?’
Fascinated by this confused concoction of myth and reality, Master Johan stuttered and without thinking said, ‘No – no not at all. Allow me to present myself I am ...’
‘I know who you are. You are Master Johan. But I don’t know why you are lying here. There is nothing wrong with you.’
In the darkness the embarrassed Johan said, ‘I was simply fatigued when I arrived. I am well now.’
His eyes had gradually adjusted to the dim light in the room and he was able dimly to see the girl’s face. She was almost unbearably beautiful to look upon, with sparkling eyes and an amused smile. Johan wondered how she could have known that there was nothing the matter with him. It was not possible for her to have examined him whilst he slept – or was it?
Almost as if she was reading his thoughts, she said, ‘Do you know, I only have to touch your skin with my hand and I can tell whether you are sick or not from the pulse that vibrates against it. I can also tell from the smell of a person – Tengel can too.’
‘Are you the one they call “Sol”, Mistress? The young lad who came to me earlier spoke the name.’
‘Yes, but you need not call me “Mistress”. It’s foolish, because I’m not a grown woman yet, am I? Tengel is my uncle, but he and Silje have looked after me and Dag – he lives at Grastensholm now – ever since we were small. Not even our real parents could have given us more love than they have. Sometimes they tell me off because I’m not as well behaved as Dag, but I know it’s because they care about me and don’t want me to take the wrong path in life. I can be a bit wild sometime
s and I mostly just do as I please.’
Johan lifted himself up on one elbow. Now was the time to begin his inquiry – she was offering him the perfect opportunity!
‘How strange it sounds – what you said about the power of your hands. How did it happen?’
She answered willingly. ‘It is because I belong to a people that are born with the gift.’
Johan decided to play all his cards at once. ‘I can tell you that there is something unusual about one of my arms. It has no feeling from the elbow to the wrist. Inside the skin, if you know what I mean.’
What he had said was a lie, but it was one of the most important tests. A real witch would have a place somewhere on her body that was completely without feeling, put there by Satan himself This young girl would quickly fall into his trap, now he had tempted her to reveal something they might share in common.
Sol however showed nothing other than a friendly interest. ‘That’s strange! Do you mean that you can feel nothing at all?’
‘No, nothing.’
Without giving him any warning, she pinched his arm very hard, so hard in fact that Johan only just managed to prevent himself from crying out in pain. ‘Could you feel that?’ she asked.
‘No, I felt nothing,’ he lied.
‘Do you know, you’re not really ugly,’ she declared solemnly. ‘In fact, you’re quite handsome – if you didn’t have your hair so short and your lips so tightly pressed together. Not as handsome as Klaus, mind. He works up at the big house and I think I’m a little bit in love with him. Have you ever been in love? I’m not completely sure that I am really. Well, have you?’
‘Are you not too young to be falling in love?’ asked Johan, trying to control the conversation. Besides, he didn’t think that this Klaus person sounded very pleasant.
‘I shall soon be fifteen.’
Oh, God! he thought. She is but a child! Such a beguiling combination of innocence and arrogance. With an effort he turned his thoughts back to the matter at hand. ‘Your brother told me that you can make magic – make things disappear.’
Sol laughed. ‘Ha! Are? You can make him believe anything at all. Hold the candle and I’ll show you.’ She took an oatcake from the table and showed it to him openly. Then she closed her hand and distracted him by keeping up her endless chatter. A moment later – hey presto – the cake was gone! Johan felt an icy chill of dread run through him. This was sorcery unlike anything he had ever seen!
Then, immediately, the giggling laughter started again. ‘Now let me show you how I did it,’ said Sol, ‘but I’ll do it slowly this time. It’s the oldest trick of the fairground jugglers.’ As she performed the ‘magic’ again very slowly, Johan’s face turned crimson with embarrassment, seeing how he had been fooled. It was so easy! Not witchcraft at all!
A small voice in the back of his mind was begging the forgiveness of his superiors for having felt such compassion. It had never happened to him before in all his witch-hunts. More often than not, he would have felt great satisfaction at the faintest hint of suspicion directed at a woman and, with much feasting, he and his associates would later celebrate the triumph together. Even now he could feel the warm glow of delight in his heart that he always experienced when the fateful words of judgement were uttered which sent the guilty to torture – or to the stake. It was the honourable delight of knowing justice had been done. His thin lips tightened even more. In the fight against evil there was no room for weakness!
The pretty young wife with the sympathetic eyes came in and scolded the girl severely before begging his pardon for the intrusion and leading the girl away. He fell back onto the bed. The room had suddenly become empty and dreary ‘You’re quite handsome,’ No one had ever before dared speak such words to the much-feared assistant to the Inquisition. It made him feel warm all over – almost as warm as standing watching a witch burn!
****
The following morning Master Johan insisted on getting up from his bed. Pretending to be suffering from aching limbs and sore joints, he stumbled outside into the back yard. There an unexpected sight met him. The yard was filled with people from every walk of life. Some were dressed in neat, albeit simple clothes, but most of them were hopelessly poor and wearing nothing better than rags.
One or two well dressed people, however, stood out from the throng. Hearing a noise, he turned as Silje came out of the door behind him.
‘What has happened?’ he asked, shocked by what he saw.
‘Happened? How do you mean?’
‘Well – all these people!’
‘Oh, them! It is the same every day. They have come to my husband for help.’
‘But I understood him to be a physician to the gentry!’
‘No, they number but a few of his patients. His real work lies in safeguarding folk like these.’
‘Surely he cannot have time to see all these?’
‘He tries, Master Johan,’ said Silje, wearily. ‘He does all he can to help them and it causes me to worry greatly for him. He tires himself so.’
Johan remembered Tengel’s drawn face and the eyes that seemed so raw-rimmed and tired. ‘But is he not a well placed medicus, who is much sought after? What does he need these people for? They will never make him rich!’
‘Tengel never asks for anything from them. Yet still they bring what they can – an egg, a wicker basket, some kindling from the forest. They all want to pay something, you understand. It allows them to keep the little dignity they have left.’
For the first time, Johan was seeing a world he had never known existed. Nonetheless, he did not have time for this – he was determined to seek out the Devil’s trickery, and the demands of the Court of Inquisition called to him.
‘Mistress Silje, I should very much like to join your husband at Mass tomorrow,’ he said slyly, ‘if he does not object.’
Silje gave a brief sad smile. ‘You are welcome to join us but my husband will not accompany us, I fear.’
Aha! Johan was incisive. ‘Why not?’
‘It may be difficult for you to understand, but I would like him to live for many years yet. His work healing so many people saps his strength and he weakens every time he lays his healing hands upon people. He takes it badly whenever he fails – for that does happen from time to time. He must also make sure that his store of herbs is kept full, something that is not easy in winter, of course. So on the night before the Sabbath I order him to his bed. He sleeps like a log all through the Sunday – missing Mass and everything! I think it is better that he regains the strength to minister to these unfortunates than to sit in church, fast asleep.’
‘But the Word of God? If he does not receive the Word he will be beyond the redemption of the church!’
‘I hardly think so. And there is another reason why Tengel does not worship in church. Once when we lived in the north of the country, he would gladly have been a part of the congregation, but he was stopped from attending Mass because folk said that he belonged to the Evil One himself. All because of his unfortunate appearance – something that he cannot be held to account for! That hurt him, Master Johan! I believe that Tengel is afraid of being excluded again. Still, he and Sol have their own form of Mass. They make their way out into the forests and fields and commune with God on their own. They do not think of the priesthood as a special mouthpiece – at times they can even be quite disruptive.’
‘I’ve never heard the like! The girl does not go to church either, you say?’
‘No, she has a difficult temperament. We prefer to keep her here, away from places where people gather.’
‘Are you saying that she is possessed? Has some evil spirit taken her?’
‘Sol? No,’ laughed Silje. ‘She is but a strong-willed young lady who speaks her mind and does what she chooses. Her comments would cause a disturbance during the service.’ Silje said a silent prayer asking for forgiveness. She had spoken the truth about Ten gel and she knew well that he had a close spiritual connection to his God. But Sol wa
s another matter. They could say nothing about her beliefs, other than that ten wild stallions would never be enough to drag her into church. That was Hanna’s influence, with her Devil worship and scorn for the men of the cloth. Not for one minute did Silje think that Sol went out into the forest to pray to God! Oh, no! Many times she had tried to talk to her, tried to bring her up with a belief in Christ, but on every occasion it had been as if Sol had drawn a veil over her senses – she had simply refused to listen.
Whenever Silje’s thoughts went in these directions, Hanna’s words came back to haunt her again and again. ‘Sol will not pass on our true inheritance! You, girl! You are the one who will pass on the heritage of the first Great Tengel.’
Sol, our beloved little girl, thought Silje sadly, what will become of you? Have we failed you? Should we have punished you harder? No! Both she and Tengel knew how dangerous that could be. Besides none of the children had deserved or been given as many beatings as Sol. But that had been a long time ago. They had stopped because Sol’s revenge had always been too frightening – something precious to them had always been destroyed under mysterious circumstances. It had been her way of sending little warnings and Tengel always knew how she had done it. However, he had no power over her since he had allowed the evil side of his craft to lie dormant for so long. What was more, he did not want to start using such methods again.
Any criticism from them would send Sol into angry tantrums. ‘If I were to decide for myself, then I should do things as I wish,’ she had once said. ‘I would care nothing for the tastes and wants of folk. It is only because of my fondness for you that I try to behave as everyone else. I am doing my best – so don’t find fault!’
Faced with such an argument they had capitulated. They understood only too well that she was suffering an inner turmoil and was not like the others. From then on they tried instead to guide her by showing her all the love they could. Sending her away would be unthinkable. She was safe and well cared for here – but among strangers she might be tormented, and who could tell what she would do then?
Witch-Hunt Page 17