The Master of Medicine (The Secret Healer Series Book 2)

by Ellin Carsta

  Madlen cleared her throat. “I know what you’re going to say,” she said. “But things have changed.”

  “Oh? How?”

  “The doctor—Franz von Beyenburg is his name—told me about a school in Salerno where women can study medicine.”

  “The man is feeding you a load of rubbish,” Agathe scoffed.

  “No, really. It’s true. In a few days he’s going to Heidelberg to teach at the university there.” Madlen swallowed nervously. “And he offered to let me be a guest student there for a few days.” The truth was out! She looked uneasily, even fearfully, at her aunt.

  “To what end?” Agathe asked calmly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you are a mother of two and the wife of an attorney in the service of the archbishop. Besides that, you were planning to help take care of your in-laws. Why, I ask you, would you want to waste your time learning about the glorious wonders of medicine if you’ll never ever be able to use this knowledge?”

  Madlen opened her mouth, then closed it again, at a loss for words.

  “There’s no denying the fact,” Agathe continued, “that there’s no good reason for you to do this.”

  Madlen looked at the floor. “But I want it so much.”

  “I also longed for a lot of things in my life, but I had to leave those longings behind.”

  Madlen pressed her lips together. She loved her aunt with all her heart, like the mother she’d never known. The woman who had given life to Madlen had lost her own life during childbirth. But in this moment, she was quite perturbed by Agathe’s harsh tone, a tone that invalidated Madlen’s feelings and lifelong yearnings. “Oh?” Madlen heard herself asking. “Wasn’t it your wish after Reinhard’s death to escape from the life of a fisherman’s wife? Didn’t you risk everything to become a seamstress?” Madlen gestured to the fabrics strewn around the room. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? And you got it.”

  “Yes,” Agathe admitted. “It’s true. I didn’t know if my sewing and business skills were good enough, or if I’d have any customers to buy my dresses. But I had only myself. I didn’t have a husband or children to take care of, which made things much easier for me.”

  “Please forgive me,” Madlen said. “I shouldn’t have said those things.”

  “Oh, Madlen.” Agathe took her hand. “I understand, really I do. But we aren’t in Salerno. Around here, nobody would trust a female doctor, not to mention that, with your current responsibilities, you have little or no time for such things. God has blessed you, and his blessing is one Roswitha and I would be only too thrilled to have. Be satisfied! To have everything and yet still want more will only ruin what you treasure most. Please, believe me.”

  Tears ran down Madlen’s cheeks. “You’re probably right,” she conceded. “It was just a fantasy, a silly dream that can never become a reality. Tomorrow morning, I’ll thank the doctor for his generous offer. And then I’ll return to my in-laws’ house and take care of my children.”

  “I’m relieved to hear you say that.”

  Madlen got up. “Thank you, Agathe. Please forgive me for my selfishness.”

  Agathe embraced her niece. “Of course.” They walked into the hall, and Madlen called her children. In short order, the siblings ran up, followed by Roswitha, who could hardly keep pace with them.

  “Come on. We’re going home.”

  “Have you been crying, Mother?” Cecilia asked.

  “Me? No! Why would I be crying? I have the two most wonderful treasures in the whole world, so I have no reason to cry.”

  “That’s true,” Cecilia said. She embraced Agathe and Roswitha then took Madlen’s hand. Veit had already opened the door and was standing there waiting. They said their farewells, then Madlen set off with the children. She breathed in the fresh air. There was nobody around, and Madlen enjoyed watching her children playfully scamper down the street.

  Elsbeth had evidently been expecting them when they finally reached the Goldmanns’ house, because Madlen had barely knocked before her mother-in-law opened the door.

  “You’re finally here. We were getting worried.”

  “Forgive me. I had to discuss something with Agathe.”

  Elsbeth embraced her grandchildren and led Madlen into the house. “And Peter and I have something to discuss with you,” she said jubilantly.

  “Oh?” Madlen was surprised. What could it be? It must be good news, because Elsbeth looked so happy.

  “Peter told me everything. Even the promise that you made to the doctor to think about his offer.” She took Madlen by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Lord Baumhauer, ah, I mean Leopold, told us that there isn’t anything for us to do here right now, so we are free to ride with the doctor to Heidelberg. While you listen to his lectures on the miracles of medicine, Peter and I will take care of the children.” Elsbeth embraced Madlen, who was utterly stunned. “Tell me, now, isn’t that exciting?”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Do you remember me?”

  “Of course. You’re the man who was asking about Christopeit.” Dietrich Tillich opened the door a bit wider. “Please, come in.”

  Johannes thanked him and entered the house, which was very dark despite the sunny morning. While the vicar’s house only a few yards away was spacious and beautifully decorated, this man’s home was furnished with dusty, mismatched furniture, making it seem cramped and oppressive.

  Dietrich offered Johannes a seat at the somewhat rickety dining room table.

  “Some spiced wine, my lord?”

  Johannes held up his hand. “I’ve already eaten breakfast. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “What can I do for you?” His host sat down in a chair on the other side of the table.

  “We found Christopeit.” Johannes got right to the point. “He was murdered.”

  “Murdered?” The man’s eyes opened wide. “Why?”

  “Probably because he knew or thought he knew who was behind the vicar’s murder.”

  “That’s terrible! How can I be of help to you?”

  “You said that you saw the men who took Christopeit away.”

  “Correct, my lord.”

  “Would you be able to recognize them if you saw them again?”

  The man shook his head slowly. “There was the one with the light-blond hair. He was a rather young fellow and very tall, without a doubt. I can only remember the approximate height and weight of the others. I’m sorry. If I’d known that something was amiss, I would certainly have paid more attention.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Johannes said. “Tell me, had you ever seen any of these men before? Possibly as guards or as visitors to the vicar’s home?”

  He thought about it. “No, I don’t think so. Or maybe once. As guards.” He knitted his brows together. “Yes, I think the tall blond man was there as an escort once.”

  “Escorting whom?” Johannes’s heart started to beat quickly.

  “If I could tell you, I would. But I really don’t know.”

  “Perhaps it was a high lord?”

  “Yes, certainly. But I don’t know which one. There were a lot of high-ranking people going in and out over there.”

  “You’ve been a great help, Lord Tillich.” Johannes stood up. “I may call on you again, if I find someone who fits your description of the tall blond man.”

  Dietrich stood up, too. “You know where to find me.”

  “My thanks.”

  The attorney walked back to his house, thoughts dancing in his head. If Madlen were here, she would undoubtedly help him make sense of things. His wife’s face emerged in his mind’s eye. Her light-blue eyes, her soft skin, her delicate, beautiful face, the mole on her upper lip. Her smile whenever she saw him. If she were in Cologne, she would stand by him during these difficult moments! He shook his head to keep these thoughts from overwhelming him. She was in Worms taking care of his parents, and that was all to the good. He knew she’d be needed there even when Leopold
Baumhauer’s help was no longer necessary. Knowing that she was supporting Elsbeth and helping to care for his blind father made being away from Madlen somewhat more bearable.

  When Johannes returned to his house, a strange feeling told him to proceed with caution. He looked around. Was he being watched? Two women were walking down the street, and a small boy was playing with a dog. Other than that, there seemed to be no one else out and about. He looked around one more time but saw nothing unusual. Yet he sensed a looming threat, and a feeling of being watched clung icily to the nape of his neck.

  After a moment’s pause, Johannes decided not to enter his house and instead began to walk toward the archbishop’s residence, taking a route through the market. Were the murderers tailing him? He stopped abruptly, frightening a woman who had been walking behind him; they just barely avoided a collision. He spun around, taking in his surroundings. The people at the market seemed to be minding their own business. Or were they? Had he just seen someone watching him from the alleyway? Johannes rushed to the spot but found no one. He was becoming more and more certain that somebody was watching him. Whoever it was, he was getting too close for comfort. “I’ll get you, you scoundrel,” Johannes called out into the alley. Then he turned around and proceeded to the archbishop’s palace.

  “God protect you,” the guard said by way of greeting as Johannes reached the door.

  “And may God be with you,” Johannes replied. “Say, are Anderlin, Georg, Linhardt, Niclaus, Wolfker, and Wilhelm here?” Johannes was determined to rally a group of guards he could trust. He knew Anderlin, Georg, and Linhardt had been in the service of the archbishop for several years now. He wasn’t so sure about the other three, but they’d seemed dependable at their last and only meeting. He only hoped that he hadn’t gotten the wrong impression.

  “I’ve seen Anderlin and Niclaus. Wolfker, too,” the guard said. “I’ll have to ask about the others.”

  “Please do. Tell them that I will be expecting them at my house.”

  “Yes, Counselor. I’ll take care of it.”

  “My thanks. I will—” he stopped short. He almost didn’t believe his eyes. “Over there, by the colonnade, that man. Is he one of the guards?”

  The guard craned his neck to look. “They’re both guards, my lord.”

  “I mean the tall one with the light-blond hair. What’s his name?”

  “His name is Benedict, my lord. He hasn’t been here long. He’s currently in training.”

  “And the man next to him?”

  “That’s Dietz. He has a lot of experience.”

  “Who hired this Benedict?”

  The guard glanced uncertainly at his colleagues, who were deep in conversation. Then he shrugged. “I don’t know, my lord. It was probably Vicar Bartholomäus. He managed such affairs, until he died, of course. He even hired me.”

  “Me, too.” Another guard stepped forward.

  “Hmm.” It struck Johannes that he knew way too little about the administrative duties of vicars, deacons, and deans. He wondered if he should speak to Benedict right away, but then it occurred to him that this might not be wise. He had to be cautious so as not to raise suspicions.

  “That will be all. Don’t forget to send me those guards I requested.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Johannes turned and walked toward the marketplace once more. Was someone following him? He wasn’t sure but suspected that it was the same fellow as before.

  As soon as Johannes loped up his front steps, Hans opened the door.

  “Thank God you’re here, my lord.”

  “Did something happen, Hans?”

  “A woman was here. She wished to speak to you about an urgent matter. I suggested that she wait for you but she declined. I got the distinct impression that she was in a hurry.” Hans paused. “Or she was frightened.”

  “Frightened? What about?”

  “She didn’t tell me. She wanted to speak with you and you alone.”

  “Did you get her name?”

  “She told me to tell you she’s the other Duretta. She said you would know what that means.”

  “The other Duretta? She was here? And you let her go?”

  “But I . . . I didn’t know . . . ,” Hans stammered.

  “When did she leave?”

  “I don’t know exactly, but it’s been a good while.”

  “Did she say where I could find her?”

  “No, my lord. She told me she would return as soon as possible.”

  Johannes exhaled noisily. “Then we have to pray she keeps her promise.” Johannes looked down the street, hoping to see her. Though he looked far and wide, he didn’t recognize a soul. If only he’d gone right back to his house, he wouldn’t have missed her. He might be closer to solving the murders, at least the murder of Bernhard von Harvehorst. He sighed as he walked into the house and closed the door behind him. Johannes felt exhausted, drained. He wondered whether the task the archbishop had bestowed upon him was simply too big to take on alone.

  It was almost noon when the guards arrived. The woman who claimed to be the other Duretta had yet to return.

  “I imagine you all know what we discovered in the harbor yesterday.”

  “Christopeit?” Georg said.

  “Correct. Christopeit and Duretta, Bernhard von Harvehorst’s housekeeper.”

  The guards looked at him expectantly. Johannes was hesitant to tell them about the woman who had claimed to be Duretta appearing at his house that morning. He didn’t know if he could trust them all.

  “We have at least four murders to deal with,” Johannes continued. “We have to assume that Christopeit and Duretta were murdered because they knew who killed their employers.”

  “Then why weren’t they murdered immediately?” Linhardt said. “I mean, why go to all the trouble? First the vicar, and one day later his servant. And the same for von Harvehorst and his housekeeper.”

  “A good question. I can’t say for certain, but I would guess that Christopeit didn’t fully realize who was responsible for his employer’s death. More than likely, he revealed his suspicions to the wrong people.”

  “And the housekeeper?” Niclaus asked.

  “I believe she was probably killed on the same day as her master.”

  “Why do you think that?” Georg asked.

  “Because the woman I interrogated that day introduced herself as Duretta, but she was lying. The real Duretta was probably already dead, just like her employer. Her body had most likely been dumped in the Rhine by that time.”

  “Why bother? The killer could have simply left her in von Harvehorst’s house. Then there wouldn’t have been the danger of being caught while dragging her body away,” Linhardt said.

  “Because he wanted us to believe that Bernhard von Harvehorst had committed suicide. The impostor admonished herself for leaving him alone, but of course her tears were nothing but a clever ruse. Believe me, when we find this false Duretta, she’ll have a lot to account for.”

  “Are you absolutely certain that the body pulled out of the Rhine was not the same person you talked to previously?” Wolfker asked. “How did you know that the deceased was really von Harvehorst’s housekeeper and not some other maid?”

  “Her sister Margret identified the deceased. And there were several people who confirmed that we had the right woman.”

  “I understand,” Wolfker said.

  “Now that we’ve cleared that up, I would like to ask you something. Which one of you knows a guard by the name of Benedict?”

  The men exchanged glances. “We all know him, my lord,” Linhardt answered. “He’s one of the younger guards.”

  “What do you think of him?”

  Linhardt shrugged. “He’s one of us. What are you suggesting?”

  The lawyer considered whether to reveal what he knew. He finally decided that he had no other choice if he wanted to make any headway.

  “He fits the description of one of the men who took the vicar’s
servant away. Maybe Christopeit returned to Bartholomäus’s house after that—we don’t know. But at this point, Benedict could very well be one of the murderers.”

  “Who gave you this description?”

  “A man named Dietrich Tillich who lives near Bartholomäus’s house.”

  “Is he trustworthy?”

  “He has no reason to lie. He described the man to me two separate times: the day after the vicar’s death, when I went to speak with the servant, and then again yesterday.”

  “And he was completely sure?”

  “I would like to say so. When I saw Benedict at the palace, I thought of the neighbor’s description immediately.” Johannes paused. “Here’s the plan: One of you will go to the palace and tell Benedict I have a task for him at the vicar’s house. Then you’ll accompany him there. The rest of us will bring the witness. If he recognizes Benedict, we’ll make an arrest.”

  “I’ll do it,” Georg offered. “I know Benedict and often stand guard with him. He trusts me.”

  “Good. Then we have only one more issue to discuss before we go. Does anyone know who is riding with the archbishop instead of the vicar and Bernhard von Harvehorst?”

  The men exchanged looks again. This time it was Niclaus who answered. “Lord Domkeppler Godart Keyserswerde, Secretary Heinrich, and the vicar general.”

  Johannes knew these men. He mulled over which of these lords was most likely to be a traitor but couldn’t come to any definitive conclusion. “Why are three men traveling with the archbishop when only two needed to be replaced?”

  The guards shrugged and shook their heads.

  “Which one of them would be most likely to betray the archbishop?” Johannes asked point-blank.

  “Do you believe the archbishop is in danger?” Wilhelm jumped up. “Why are we just sitting around then? We must go after them!”

  “Sit down,” Johannes said. “We don’t know who the traitor is or what his intentions are. The guards riding with Friedrich will protect him. I highly doubt the traitor would be so stupid as to try to kill the archbishop en route. He could have done that just as well in Cologne.” Johannes scratched his chin. “No. Something else is going on. Perhaps the traitor plans to interfere with a negotiation or prevent a treaty from being signed.”