“When did you meet with the Devil?” said Father Streng.
“Nein,” Eva sobbed. Her head rested on one shoulder. “It would be a sin...to confess...to something I did not do. I would rather die here...than die to eternal life.”
“Proceed!” The priest’s voice was shrill.
Freude shook his head. “I cannot tighten the screw any more.”
Lutz stood. “It is done then! She has withstood the test. She has shown herself to be innocent.”
“We must proceed further,” insisted Father Streng.
“Nein!” shouted Lutz.
“But the Devil is helping her. We must continue.”
Judge Steinbach feebly tapped the gavel. “Order! Order!” Hampelmann stood, swaying. He leaned against the table. “It is not the Devil who is helping her. It is God. Frau Eva Rosen is innocent.”
30
He cannot admit, even to himself, that he desires the woman, has always desired her. So the man with the pale hair conjures me to give him a sign. I chuckle out loud. Me? Bring a sign from God?
He has been taught that I am a dark man, so he sees darkness and black smoke. It is the little girl who told him that my eyes are red and glowing.
His lust has almost destroyed the woman. Now it may save her. Lucky woman.
The midwife is not so lucky. No one will conjure a sign for her. She stands, shoulders slumped, arms hanging limp, wrists bound.
The little priest prays and sprinkles holy water. He is red-faced, and stinks of sweat and fear.
They ask their questions. Always the same: when and where did she meet with the Devil? How and when and in what positions did she fuck me? (Though they are always careful to say ‘fornicate’ or ‘sexual intercourse.’) They are sure my cock (they say ‘member’) is huge and cold, but desirable to spinsters and widows nonetheless.
She curses them. Sons of whores. Sodomites. Fuckers of sheep and goats. And little boys.
The men flinch. Some of them have never heard such words from the mouth of a woman.
The executioner prods the midwife to the floor. He pours water into her mouth, then forces a wet rag down her throat. The rag is attached to a hemp cord. He yanks the cord and pulls the rag from her gullet. There is blood.
The fat lawyer, who is not so fat anymore, covers his face with his hands.
They repeat their questions. She is silent, except for her choking moans.
The executioner grits his teeth, furious with the silence that defies him. He forces the rag down her throat again. More questions. The midwife gags on the cord, but does not answer. The rag comes up. More blood.
He unties her wrists, rolls her over, and yanks her arms behind her back. She screams, then collapses, and for a few moments, feels no pain. He binds her arms to the thick rope hanging from the pulley on the ceiling, turns the wooden wheel to lift her up off the floor.
She dangles. Nun fuckers, she screams.
He ties stone weights to her ankles.
They repeat their questions again. So tedious.
The executioner draws her up, then lets her fall, jerking her to a halt before the stones can crack against the floor. The fat lawyer covers his ears to shut out the popping and snapping of bones and joints. Her screams ring off the walls. The fat lawyer screams with her.
The midwife’s body goes as limp as the bloody rag.
The physician raises a cautioning hand. They cannot afford to lose another one, he says.
31
27 April 1626
Eva puked, again and again, every jerking movement provoking fiery pain. Her thumbs throbbed with every beat of her heart. Yet her heart was comforted. God had protected her! She had withstood the torture, and Wilhelm believed she was innocent.
When would someone come to release them?
Katharina huddled against her mother. She studied Eva’s face, but would not look at the smashed thumbs.
The rasp of the key. At last! The door creaked open and Frau Brugler stepped in, Herr Lutz and Father Herzeim close behind.
“When will they let us go?” said Eva.
Lutz bowed his head. Father Herzeim laid a hand over his wooden cross. The jailer’s wife scuttled out the door.
“They know now that I am innocent,” said Eva, her terror rising. “They have to release us!”
“They wish to question Katharina again,” Lutz said quietly.
Eva threw back her head and howled. She had proved herself innocent. How could they do this to Katharina? To her? She pulled at her shackles, then cried out in pain.
Father Herzeim knelt down beside her. He tenderly took her hands in his, but even the slightest touch caused agony. Eva nearly fainted from pain. He released her hands and grasped her shoulders.
Eva wanted desperately to move into his embrace, to accept the comfort he offered. But not from a priest. Mother of God, not from a priest.
He leaned close, his melancholy face only a hand span from hers. She could see the web of fine lines around his eyes. “You must continue to be strong, Frau Rosen. You have won a great victory. And God willing, Katharina will win another.”
“And what if God is not willing?”
Katharina wiped at the tears on Eva’s cheek. “Mama, I will be strong for you. The angels will help me.” The girl turned and smiled, then reached out and hugged empty air to her chest. “I knew you’d come back,” she whispered.
Lutz tilted his head toward Katharina. “Who’d come back?”
“The white–”
“Father Herzeim,” Eva said quickly. “She finds his presence a great comfort.”
Though the priest’s expression did not change, Eva could see the question in his dark eyes. “Katharina,” he said, “you must be strong for your mother.”
“When will they question her?” asked Eva.
“Tomorrow morning,” said Lutz.
Father Herzeim squeezed Eva’s shoulders, then stood. “Is there anything you need, Frau Rosen?”
“God.”
Eva clenched her teeth to keep from screaming.
Cooing softly, as if she were bathing a newborn baby, Frau Brugler carefully washed Eva’s hands in warm water stained a pale brown by leaves of comfrey and purslane. The woman patted them dry, then dabbed a foul-smelling ointment over the wounds. “There now, I know this hurts, but it’ll help them to heal without festering.” She wrapped Eva’s hands in clean rags, then, with a long sigh, locked her wrists into the shackles. “I wish I didn’t have to do this to you. I knew all along you and your little girl weren’t witches.”
She put a stoneware mug to Eva’s lips. “Here, drink this. It’s wretched tasting, but it’ll ease the pain.”
Eva caught the scent of hellebore and valerian. The draught was so bitter she could hardly swallow without choking.
The jailer’s wife left and returned with two bowls of soup and fresh bread. She fed Eva spoonfuls of the hot rich broth, which contained chunks of real meat, pork. “It’s from my own table,” said Frau Brugler.
Eva wept at the woman’s kindness.
“The midwife won’t give them a thing,” said Frau Brugler, lifting the spoon to Eva’s mouth. “She’s a tough one. Most women would’ve been long dead by now.”
Eva looked at her bandaged hands. They’d smashed her thumbs, and that had been agony. What else had they done to the midwife? What else would they do to her? To Katharina? Dear God, she prayed, please help Katharina to be strong. Give her the words that would free them.
“Proves she’s a witch,” continued Frau Brugler. “I always knew she was. I could tell by her evil eyes. I can always tell by the eyes. That’s how I knew you and your daughter were innocent. But do they ever ask me? Never. Those high and mighty commissioners would never think of asking the opinion of an old crone like me.”
She winked at Eva. “But I have my ways. Fraulein Spatz was innocent, too. Ask, and it shall be given you. That’s what I live by. So I gave the poor girl a bit of help when she asked.”
Th
e woman wagged a finger at Katharina, who was eagerly stuffing fresh bread into her mouth. “Girl, you’ve got to be strong for your mama tomorrow. Don’t give the bastards anything. Even if they hurt you.”
“They can’t hurt me,” Katharina mumbled around a mouthful of bread.
“Oh, but they can, girl.”
“Nein, they can’t, because–” She stopped, finally heeding her mother’s warning glare. “Because we are innocent,” she murmured.
“I hope you’re right, child.”
When Frau Brugler left, Katharina settled at Eva’s side. The girl stroked the air over her own lap. “Mama,” she said, “can I tell no one about the white dog?”
“No one,” said Eva. “Even a whisper about her could mean death for both of us.”
“But why? She’s a good thing, like an angel.”
“The commissioners would not understand, Liebchen.”
“But she is true.”
Eva stared at the space over Katharina’s lap, trying to discern at least the dim outline of what her daughter saw and believed to be true. She saw nothing. “They do not see her,” she said finally, “so it is not a falsehood to say nothing of her.”
Eva was startled from a feverish aching sleep. A dim glow at the window. She heard rats scrambling as the door swung open. The lantern the guard carried illuminated the dark frown on his face. “There’s someone here to see you,” he said.
Wilhelm stood behind him. “Leave us,” he said gruffly. “And leave your key. I will let myself out.”
“Nein, I cannot,” said the guard.
Eva shivered, with cold and with fear. Had Wilhelm come to test her? Did he no longer believe she was innocent? Had he come to kill Katharina? Eva glanced at her helpless daughter, sleeping in the straw beside her, and desperately hoped the guard would stay.
“Leave us! I am head of the Malefizamt. You take your orders from me.”
The guard’s scowl deepened. He gave Wilhelm a measuring look, then handed over a single key from the iron ring and left, the door scraping closed behind him. Katharina stirred, then turned and lay still, pretending to sleep, but Eva could feel her trembling.
Wilhelm’s demeanour changed at once. Placing his own lantern safely away from the straw, he knelt down in front of Eva and put his hands to her face. His fingers were dry and cool. There was a softness in his blue eyes that Eva had seen only once before: the day twelve years ago when he told her he wanted to marry her.
“I have seen a sign,” he said. “When you were tortured, I felt the pain in my own hands.”
Anger surged through Eva. She held out her bandaged hands. “How could you possibly feel my pain?”
He took her hands into his own and kissed them gently. “I felt it, Eva. I bled with you. And I saw a sign from God confirming your innocence.”
“A sign from God?”
“I saw you do it. With a single glance you banished the Devil from the chamber. Eva, you proved what Jean Bodin has written: It cannot be denied that witches occasionally conspire maliciously to accuse a totally innocent person of complicity in their crimes. But in such cases, Almighty God has invariably revealed the innocence of such persons in a miraculous manner. I saw a miracle.” Wilhelm was almost giddy.
“Forgive me,” he said, “for ever desiring you, for even thinking of defiling you.” He bowed his head. “And please forgive my father. It was his sin, not yours, that crippled Katharina. Never should you have been forced to know a man. You are like the Holy Mother, pure and good.”
He reached out and ran his fingertips over her bare scalp. “Your hair. Your beautiful hair. Your crowning glory.” Wilhelm placed his hands on her shoulders then, just as Father Herzeim had, but Eva felt no desire to accept comfort from this man. She wanted to pull away from his embrace. Instead, she held her breath, afraid to move.
“I will forgive you,” she said finally, “if you will stop them from questioning Katharina, if you will make them release us.”
Wilhelm looked away, his lips pressed tightly together. “I cannot stop them from calling your daughter to testify, but I can protect her. I will not allow that odious Herr Freude to touch her. And I will insist that the commission recommend to the Prince-Bishop that you and your daughter be released.”
His blue eyes lost their softness, and his words took on a bitter edge. “I understand now that it was the evil of others that led to your arrest. Witches conspired to name you as an accomplice. And when Herr Kaiser filed his complaint with the Lower City Council and claimed later that you’d made him ill, I should have questioned his motives. I am certain now that he was plotting with other bakers to put the Rosen Bakery out of business. It was another baker, Herr Russ, who filed the report with the Malefizamt claiming that the death of your husband was by witchcraft. I promise you, Eva, you shall have justice. I will have these men, and anyone else who has accused you, arrested.”
“Nein, Wilhelm. Arrest no one on my account.”
“But they must be punished.”
“Please! No more arrests! I want nothing from you but freedom.”
He dropped his hands from her shoulders and rocked back on his heels. “I believe these men should be punished for causing such harm to an innocent. But because I am begging your forgiveness, Eva, I will do as you ask. And because I have allowed myself to be led astray by the malice of others, I will beg God’s forgiveness as well. And I will ask his help in freeing you. And Katharina...my sister.”
32
28 April 1626
Judge Steinbach laid his gold watch on the table. “Bring in the Rosen girl, Herr Freude.”
Lutz’s feet jiggled nervously. Beside him, Hampelmann sat straight-backed, calm and composed. Had he really seen a sign from God? He’d managed to convince them all – except Freude – that he’d seen Frau Rosen banish the Devil from the chamber. Lutz had seen nothing of the sort, nor had any of the other men, and they’d remained sceptical enough to insist on questioning Katharina at least one more time.
Freude and Katharina appeared in the doorway. The girl looked fragile, her bald head perched on a willowy stalk. She was shaking, either with cold or fear. Lutz wished he could wrap her in a thick wool blanket, take her bare feet into his hands, and rub them until they were warm and pink. He wanted to see the child smile and to hear her laugh. She was so delicate he imagined her laugh would sound like finely tuned chimes.
The executioner nudged her forward. Katharina stepped into the chamber, her arms held oddly before her, as if she were dancing. Lutz went to stand beside her.
Father Streng approached Katharina with the crucifix. “By the belief that you have in God and in the expectation of paradise,” said the priest, “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?”
“I shall speak only truth.” Katharina made the sign of the cross. “In nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti.”
Father Streng returned to the table, and Freude prodded the girl toward the chair. Before she sat down, she peeked up at Lutz. He leaned forward and spoke into her ear. “Truth, Katharina. But nothing more.”
“State your name and age,” said Father Streng.
“You know already that I am Fraulein Katharina Rosen, and I am eleven.”
Chancellor Brandt placed an elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand. “In your previous testimony, Fraulein Rosen, you claimed that your mother had met with the Devil and had even been naked with the Devil.”
Katharina pointed at the executioner. “I meant only him. He’s evil.”
Freude looked as if he wanted to throttle the girl. “Possessed, I tell you. The girl is possessed.”
“And is this man the only devil you’ve ever seen with your mother?” asked Lutz. Freude shifted his venomous glare to Lutz.
“Ja,” she said, with a little jerk of her chin.
“Have you or you
r mother ever seen the Devil?” said Father Streng. “The real Devil.”
Katharina hugged her arms to her chest.
“Truth,” said Lutz. “The truth will protect you.”
“Ja, I have,” she said softly.
Lutz felt his stomach drop to his knees. Mother of God, why had she said that!
Freude smirked. “When and where?”
Katharina straightened her narrow shoulders. “Only here. And in our cell. But Mama does not meet with him,” she added quickly. “It is like Herr Hampelmann has seen. She banishes the Devil from her presence with a single glance. My mother is pure and good, like the Holy Mother.”
Lutz grabbed the chair to steady himself. How could Katharina know what Hampelmann had seen? No one had told Frau Rosen. The girl could know only if it were true and her mother had told her. And if Katharina had actually seen her mother banish the Devil at other times, then it had to be true.
Lutz glanced at the other commissioners. They were as stunned as he was. Their mouths hung open. Even Freude looked taken aback.
“Your mother has never spoken with the Devil, or met with him?” asked Father Streng, almost timidly.
“Never. Mama is not a witch, and all of you know it.”
Triumphant, Hampelmann stood. “Enough questions. The girl’s testimony confirms the sign from God. Eva Rosen is innocent.”
Judge Steinbach consulted with Chancellor Brandt, then tapped the gavel. “Take her back to her cell, Herr Freude. And treat the girl gently.”
Lutz returned to his place at the table and brought his pomander to his nose to clear his head. Chancellor Brandt drummed his fingers. Left eye twitching, Father Streng thumbed the corner of his ledger, the sound like cards being shuffled. Judge Steinbach blinked his watery eyes, his wrinkled face crumpled in confusion. Lindner sat, thoughtfully clicking his thumbnail on his front teeth. Vindicated, Hampelmann nodded knowingly at each of them.
Dancing in the Palm of His Hand Page 22