Dancing in the Palm of His Hand
Page 17
“Of what?” said Lutz.
“The Devil killed her,” said Freude. “I saw the body. Her neck was twisted. Otherwise, not a mark.”
“But why would the Devil do that?” said Lutz.
“To keep her from telling his secrets and from revealing the names of accomplices,” said Father Streng. He raised his eyes from his ledger. “Her death proves her guilt.”
“I don’t understand.” Lutz shook his head, trying to clear the wool. “If that’s true, why doesn’t the Devil kill all witches as soon as they’re arrested?”
Father Streng stared at Lutz as if he were a dummkopf. “Because, Herr Lutz, God does not permit him to do so.”
“Why then did God allow it in this case?”
There was a sudden scrabbling and squealing from the shadows, rats tussling over a scrap left by the guards. Judge Steinbach’s chin trembled as he smoothed his little tuft of white beard.
“I doubt we’d have gotten much from the old beggar anyway,” said Lindner, ignoring Lutz’s question. “And it’s one less witch we have to deal with.”
“One less I’ll be paid for,” muttered Freude.
Beside him, Lutz could feel Hampelmann stiffen. Hampelmann placed his hand on the table, fingers flexing, then straightening. “These proceedings are not about money, Herr Freude. They are about waging war against evil.”
“I know that, Herr Hampelmann. But there’s nothing wrong with getting paid for my work. Soldiers at war get paid.”
Chancellor Brandt nudged Judge Steinbach, who tipped the gavel toward the chancellor. “The first order of business,” said Chancellor Brandt, “is to determine how to proceed this morning. We still have the charges against Fraulein Spatz, Frau Lamm, and Frau Rosen to investigate. What do you make of the first questioning, gentlemen?”
“I’ve gone through my report thoroughly,” said Father Streng. “Given their evasive answers and the preponderance of evidence, I am nearly certain that Fraulein Spatz and Frau Lamm are guilty. Frau Rosen’s case is less clear.”
Lutz looked down at his own smudged pages. Preponderance of evidence? There was almost no evidence.
“I agree with Father Streng’s assessment,” Hampelmann said thoughtfully. “And with the old beggar dead, it’s clear that the maidservant is the weakest of the three who are left. We should begin with her.”
“I agree,” said Chancellor Brandt. “Bring in Fraulein Spatz. A few more nights in jail may have prompted that one to discover the truth.”
“And if she persists in being taciturn,” said Father Streng, “we have all the evidence we need to proceed with light torture.”
“Wait.” Lutz raised both hands. “I agree that we should question Fraulein Spatz first, but I do not agree that we have the evidence to justify torture. There’s a dead baby, but no evidence that anyone killed it.” He glanced toward the physician, who sat at the far end of the table near Freude. “Herr Doktor Lindner, didn’t you report that there was no sign the infant had been strangled or bludgeoned or harmed in any way?”
“Babies don’t die without cause,” said Lindner. “Moreover, the girl and the midwife tried to hide the birth...and the death. Why would they do that, Herr Lutz?”
“Under the circumstances, any fraulein would.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Chancellor Brandt said coolly. “To discover just what those circumstances were.”
“And don’t forget the mark,” said Freude.
“But we’ve not yet consulted with the law faculty at the university,” said Lutz, “as Article 109 of the Carolina Code directs.”
“Article 109 was written for inexperienced jurists,” said Chancellor Brandt, “not for those of us who have served on the commission time and time again.” He turned to the executioner. “Bring her in, Herr Freude.”
Lutz shifted on the hard chair. How could Father Streng be so certain the girl was guilty when there was so little evidence? Only a secret death and a questionable Devil’s mark. Father Streng’s assessment of the evidence seemed far less convincing than Father Herzeim’s: the young maidservant was guilty only of being poor and desperate. Lutz rubbed his temples. The young woman must have been frantic at the prospect of having a baby – no husband, no money, only the shame of bearing a bastard that would ruin any chance of marriage she might have had. Perhaps she had gone to the midwife for herbs, but that would make her a murderer, not a witch. And there was no solid evidence that she’d even done that. If one could believe what the midwife had said, that Fraulein Spatz intended to leave the child at the Julius Hospital, the girl was planning for a live baby not a dead one. If she’d only known, Lutz thought wistfully, she could have left the child on his own doorstep. Maria would take in an infant, no matter what the circumstances of its birth. He shook himself to attention. He could not allow himself to drift. He must find a way to defend the poor girl.
The door creaked open. Fraulein Spatz entered, again shuffling backwards. Her scalp was covered with dark stubble. Freude prodded her to turn around. She looked at Lutz, her eyes pleading.
Father Streng stepped forward with the crucifix. “By the belief that you have in God and in the expectation of paradise, and being aware of the peril of your soul’s eternal damnation, do you swear that the testimony you are about to give is true, such that you are willing to exchange heaven for hell should you tell a lie?”
Sniffling, she nodded. Her lips formed a silent ja.
Freude prodded her toward a chair set beside a small table in the middle of the chamber. The executioner took the gleaming thumbscrews from the shelf and set them before her.
“Fraulein Spatz,” said Chancellor Brandt, “during the previous questioning, your answers were duplicitous and disingenuous.”
The girl bit her lip. The chancellor might as well have been speaking Portuguese, thought Lutz.
Chancellor Brandt pointed at the priest’s ledger. “You claimed –”
Lutz broke in. “Chancellor Brandt means that your answers changed from time to time, leaving us unsure of the truth.”
“Danke for that clarification, Herr Lutz,” the chancellor said through clenched teeth. He turned back to the girl. “You claimed, Fraulein Spatz, that your baby was born dead, then later stated that he might have been born alive. You also said that the midwife could not have murdered the child, then later indicated that she might have had that opportunity. The child was born – and died – in secret. You deny the charges against you, yet there is the evidence of the Devil’s mark – in the most private of places. Tell us, Fraulein Spatz, has the misery of your imprisonment prompted you to find the truth?”
The girl sat up in the chair, a look of resolve on her pasty face. “I’m telling the truth. I’m not a witch. I’ve never gone to a sabbath. My son was born dead. Frau Lamm and I kept the birth and the death secret because I didn’t want anyone to know.”
“So you killed the product of your sin to be sure that no one would know,” Father Streng said coldly.
“I did not kill my baby!”
Chancellor Brandt leaned across the judge to consult with Father Streng. Hampelmann leaned in as well. The four men whispered to each other, the priest stabbing a finger at his ledger. Finally, the chancellor nodded at Judge Steinbach, who tapped the gavel.
“We, the members of the Commission of Inquisition for the Würzburg Court,” said Judge Steinbach, reading from Father Streng’s ledger, “having considered the details of the inquiry enacted by us against you, Fraulein Spatz, and having diligently examined the whole matter, find that you have been equivocal in your admissions. Nevertheless, there are various proofs that warrant exposing you to questioning under torture.”
“Nein,” she shrieked. “Nein.”
“Please,” Lutz said quickly, “because I am new to the commission, would you please review for me the evidence? On the face of it, there seems not enough to satisfy the requirements of Article 58 of the Carolina Code regarding examination under torture.”
Fr
aulein Spatz stared at Lutz, her desperate face hopeful.
Chancellor Brandt’s hands curled into fists. “We’ve already been through this, Herr Lutz. There is the dead baby.” He opened his fists to count on his fingers. “A secret birth and a secret death. There are three accusations made by condemned witches, and there is the Devil’s mark.” He held up seven fingers. “There is more than enough evidence to warrant torture.” He turned back to the girl. “Fraulein Spatz, do you wish to reconsider any of your answers before we proceed?”
She shook her head, her cheeks blanching.
“Proceed, Herr Freude.”
The executioner puffed out his chest. “You see before you the thumbscrews,” he said. “These are considered but light torture. Take your time, Fraulein Spatz, and look around you carefully, at the leg vises that can crush your bones, and at the pulley there.” With a wave of his gloved hand, he directed her eyes first to the large wooden wheel, and then to the ceiling. “And the stone weights that can be added to your ankles while you hang suspended. And see the pincers. Imagine them red-hot and pulling at your breasts. I have a razor – you know that I do.” He ran two fingers over the stubble on her head. When she flinched away from his touch, his dark teeth showed in a sneer. “It can remove the mark of the Devil from your body – even in the most secret of places. We will have the truth from you, Fraulein Spatz, one way or another. Think carefully how you answer. You can spare yourself – and us – this entire ordeal by telling us the truth now.”
Tears spilled from her eyes. “I-I am telling the truth.”
“You leave us no choice,” Chancellor Brandt said wearily. “Wherefore, that the truth may be known from your own mouth and that henceforth, you may not offend the ears of the commissioners, we declare that on Friday, April 24, 1626–” he glanced at the judge’s gold watch “–at 9:10 in the morning, you be placed under torture for questioning. Proceed, Father Streng, Herr Freude.”
The priest picked up the vial and stepped forward. He made the sign of the cross over Fraulein Spatz and then over the thumbscrews. Dipping his fingertips into the holy water, he sprinkled both the girl and the instrument. “Dear Father in heaven,” he prayed, “may these procedures free this girl from the Devil’s grasp and bring forth truth from her lips. In nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti. Amen.”
Freude grabbed Fraulein Spatz’s bound wrists and forced her thumbs under the metal bar. She screamed and tried to pull away, but the executioner held her hands in place and tightened the large centre screw, just enough to secure her thumbs under the bar.
“You have one more opportunity before we begin, Fraulein Spatz,” said Chancellor Brandt. “Will you speak the truth?”
“I have,” she whimpered. “I have.”
“Proceed, Herr Freude.”
The executioner tightened the screw. Wailing, the girl rocked back and forth in the chair. Lutz felt his stomach rise into his chest. His fingers curled around his own thumbs.
Lindner leaned forward. “How did you get your mark?”
“No mark,” she sobbed. “There is no mark.”
“When and where did you first meet with the Devil?” said Judge Steinbach.
“Never,” she whispered.
“Who killed the baby?” said Hampelmann.
“No one,” she screamed. “Then how did it die?”
“Born dead. I swear.”
At Chancellor Brandt’s nod, Herr Freude gave the screw another turn. Blood trickled onto the instrument. The girl vomited, then fainted, her head falling forward onto her outstretched arms.
“So weak,” said the executioner, disgusted. He went to a wooden box on the shelf and pulled out a small bottle. He uncorked it and waved it under her nose. The astringent scent of hartshorn mingled with the stink of sour vomit and blood. Lutz gagged.
Herr Freude slapped the girl. Her head bobbed up.
“Who killed the baby?” said Father Streng.
Her eyes fluttered open. “Midwife.”
The priest smiled thinly. “How?”
“Potion.”
Lutz put a hand to his forehead. So Fraulein Spatz had taken herbs to kill the child. Or had she? What would he say if those were his thumbs being crushed?
“Did you see the midwife eat any part of the infant or drink its blood?” said Father Streng.
“Wait!” shouted Lutz. “Herr Doktor Lindner has already reported that the infant was unblemished.”
Father Streng turned slowly, the torchlight reflecting off his spectacles so that Lutz could not see his eyes, only two golden disks. “Herr Lutz,” said the priest, “the Devil is the master of illusion. He can make anything appear to be there, and he can make what’s there appear not to be there.” He adjusted the spectacles. “Fraulein Spatz, did you see the midwife eat any part of the infant or drink its blood?”
She shook her head weakly.
“Were you planning to take the infant to the sabbath to share its flesh with other witches?”
“Bury. Tried to bury...”
“To be dug up later to be used in your foul rituals?” said Judge Steinbach.
“When and where did you first meet with the Devil?” said Chancellor Brandt.
Herr Freude placed his hand on the screw. The girl’s plump face contorted with anguish. “Frau Lamm’s,” she screeched.
“What did he ask you to do?” said Hampelmann.
Her lips moved, but she did not answer.
“Did he ask you to sign a contract granting him your eternal soul in exchange for ridding you of the child?”
She shook her head. Herr Freude gave the screw another turn. “Ja,” she howled. “A contract.”
“In your own blood?”
She nodded.
“How could she sign a contract?” Lutz protested. “She can’t even read or write.”
Father Streng stopped writing. “Simple, Herr Lutz. The Devil explains the contract to the illiterate, then guides her hand to sign it.”
“What was his name?” said Hampelmann
“Name?” she mouthed silently.
Father Streng waved the quill. “Beelzebub? Satan? Lucifer?”
“Lucifer.” She blinked rapidly, as if trying to focus her eyes. Her head lolled.
“Was that when you received your mark, Fraulein Spatz, after you’d signed the contract?” said Father Streng.
The girl’s face wrinkled in confusion.
“What was it like, fornicating with the Devil?” Hampelmann breathed heavily, as if he’d been running. “Many women have told us that his member is huge and cold, that the act is painful rather than pleasurable. Is that true, Fraulein Spatz?”
Lutz couldn’t tell if the girl actually nodded or if she’d simply tried to lift her head and couldn’t. He watched Father Streng record her answer, the speckled quill bobbing along hurriedly. How could they believe she was speaking the truth? This was exactly what Father Herzeim had meant. If they’re tortured, they’ll tell you anything. And Weyer, what about Weyer? Lutz had read the passage only once, but it was as if the words had been burned into his head, right behind his eyes. Tyrants, sanguinary judges, butchers, torturers who do not know mercy. This cruelty is continued until the most innocent are forced to confess themselves guilty.
“Tell us what you remember of the act,” said Hampelmann. “Was the Devil’s touch cold?”
“Stop!” Lutz shouted. “In the name of God, stop. The girl is delirious. She doesn’t even understand the questions. And you’re suggesting to her exactly how she should answer. How can we possibly consider her answers to be true?”
“That is why we use torture,” Father Streng said impatiently. “To reveal truth.”
“Truth? She’d say anything, anything at all, to stop the torture.”
The priest pointed the quill at Lutz. “Are you questioning the sacred teachings of the Church?”
“I’m not questioning anything. It’s just...just...” Lutz gestured toward Fraulein Spatz. “Look at her.”
The buzzing in Lutz’s ears had grown louder. He wanted to lay his head on the table.
“The Devil makes them insensible to pain,” continued Hampelmann. “That’s why we have to use torture. To free them from the Devil’s grasp. You’ll see.”
“When and where did you go to the sabbath?” said Father Streng. “And with whom?”
“No sabbath.”
Herr Freude reached toward the screw.
“Easter,” she murmured. “With the midwife.”
“Did you recognize any of the others there?” said Hampelmann. “Was that where you met Frau Imhof, Fraulein Stolzberger, and Frau Basser?”
“Ja.”
“Any others?” Hampelmann leafed through his ledger. “Did you see a young woman named Fraulein Wagner, or a beggar woman who goes by the name of Old Frau Holtzman... or Frau Rosen?”
“Or the Rosen girl?” said Freude.
Lutz stood, nearly losing his balance. He leaned against the table and waited for his vision to clear. He now understood why condemned witches all named the same accomplices. Frau Basser had spoken the truth to Father Herzeim: names had been suggested to her. Dear God, had the woman really been innocent?
“This is not right,” said Lutz. “You’re suggesting names to her.”
“Torture is God’s instrument to reveal truth,” said Hampelmann. “If these accusations are not true, God will not allow Fraulein Spatz to confirm them.”
The girl remained silent, her eyes glazed, chin on her chest.
“See,” said Hampelmann. Lutz slumped to his chair. Lindner approached the girl. “Lift her head,” he said to Freude. The physician peered into her eyes. “That’s enough for today. No good to overdo on the first day.”
“Release her from the instrument,” ordered Judge Steinbach.
“Nein, not yet,” said Father Streng. “We’re just beginning to make progress. Have you considered the dangers of the Devil coming to her and strengthening her resolve? Or killing her the way he did the old beggar?”