The blows came hard and fast, my body flopping about uselessly as I absorbed Waltraud’s vicious attack. My vision swarmed with white dots that grew before my eyes and became angry red welts. My head swirled and I thought vaguely through the pain that I might pass out soon, which would at least be a relief from the pain. But I was saved by a new voice.
"What is it? What is the matter, son?" I recognised the voice of Waltraud’s father, Ortrund. I glanced toward the door, and through my blurred vision I could just make out the shapes of men running through the open door. They would have quite a sight, with me lying on the floor, my blouse open, my skirts torn away, and blood gushing from my nose and probably other parts of me. Ortrund leaned over me, his kindly face inspecting my features closely. Then he stood up, and quickly looked away.
“This is Aubrey’s child. What is she doing here in this state?”
"Ada is a witch, father. She’s the sorceress that has cursed the village. And today, she came here to seduce me. I nearly fell for her tricks, too. But the Lord has saved me."
I opened my lips, tasting the tang of my own blood against my tongue. "Please, Ortrund, don't listen to him. I didn't do anything wrong."
The old blacksmith still refused to look at me. "It is not for me to judge. Hold her down, Waltraud. I shall send out a hue and cry, and fetch the scharfrichter."
"No, no, no!" I sobbed, "Don't do this. Please, you do not understand–" But it was no use, Ortrund had already left. In a panic, I tried to pull myself toward the door, but Ortrund’s men grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me to my knees. Waltraud towered over me. He leaned down and punched me in the cheek. My head cracked back, pain crashing into me like a wave. Waltraud drew a knife from his belt and pressed the blade against my throat.
“Waltraud, please-” I sobbed.
"Silence, demon." Waltraud hissed at me. "It's a pity you refused me. You could be on your way to heaven right now, instead of burning in eternal hellfire."
He withdrew the knife and kicked me again, hard in the stomach. I doubled over, gasping for air as the pain arced through my whole body. Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I coughed up a stream of blood. This is bad. My whole body shuddered with fear as I realised it was only the beginning.
Ortrund appeared at the door again. "I have sent your brothers to the village to make the hue and cry, and fetch Ulrich of Donau-Ries. While we wait, you must hold her down, Waltraud. We cannot allow her to escape. But you must be careful to avoid her gaze, lest she bewitch you."
He grabbed both my wrists and pinned me to the ground. My head bounced against the ground, and my vision swam with an army of black dots, to join the red. Panic rose in my belly, threatening to overwhelm me. I had to stay in control. I had to raise my chin and pretend I was confident of my innocence. If I fought them, they would take that as the demon trying to regain freedom.
I sagged with defeat, my voice croaking out the words. “I am glad they are fetching the scharfrichter. He will confirm my innocence. He will probably sentence you for beating a woman who is not your wife.”
“He wouldn’t dare,” said Waltraud. “I’m the victim here, and I can attest to your wanton and unmaidenly behaviour.”
“"When the witch hunter arrives," I said, with more bravery than I felt. "He will soon show which of us is the victim."
Waltraud hawked in his throat and spat in my face. I screwed my eyes shut against the insult, feeling his warm spittle running down my injured cheek. Waltraud laughed as he brought my hands together behind my back. He held them with one beefy hand while he tried to paw at my breasts with the other. I knew I should stay still and modest, and wait for Ulrich to arrive, but the body does not cooperate with the mind when it is scared. Sensing my chance, I brought my knee up between Waltraud’s legs and rammed it up as far as it would go. Waltraud’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed on the ground, curling up into a ball. He was breathing heavily, sweat pouring down his face as he clutched at his injured member. I yanked myself to my feet and ran for the door.
Just as I grabbed the latch the door flew open, and a whole gang of men entered, including the witch hunter’s löwe. Ulrich of Donau-Ries wasn't among them.
The men surrounded me, staring in confusion between me and Waltraud, who still lay sprawled across the floor beside the hearth.
"Get her!" screamed Waltraud, not moving from the floor. "She's a witch!"
Ortrund carried a long coil of rope. "Come quietly now, Ada," he said. "Or it will go bad for you in the trial."
"It will go badly for you. All of you." I was shaking all over. I was so terrified, but the words coming out of my mouth weren't my own. They didn't sound like me. They were the words of a brave woman, defiant. They were the exact words I should never have said.
"You’re making a mistake, Ortrund. Your wife will die without my herbs." I said it with a lot more venom than I felt.
Ortrund slapped me across the face. I lunged at him, and he leapt back. He didn't want me to touch him. My mind reeled with fear, but my body was still fighting to escape. Perhaps I could use Ortrund’s hesitation to my advantage. If I could just break through the men at the door, and run into the forest–
A rough hand grabbed me, twisting my arm back behind my body. I kicked out with my feet, clipping Ortrund in the jaw. He howled and stepped back, but the other men moved in. They grabbed my ankles and my other arm, pinning me to the ground. I thrashed wildly, screaming at the top of my lungs, but they held firm.
"Tie her legs!"
Rough ropes lashed against my skin, biting into my flesh. They wrapped the rope around my wrists and tied my ankles together.
The löwe held the other end of the rope and yanked me to my feet. I struggled against it, but it was no use. The man yanked the rope once more. My feet came out from under me, and I crashed headfirst to the ground. More blood spurted from my nose, and a searing pain rocketed from my temple.
Waltraud grabbed the rope, and with a gleeful smile he began to drag me toward the door. I could do nothing but lie there, deflated and bloody, the rough ground tearing at my naked breasts and dirt and dust filling my mouth, as Waltraud dragged me to my doom.
Out of Waltraud's home they dragged me, down the road, through the gates and right into the heart of the village. Every man, woman and child turned to stare at my bruised and bloody body. They watched with a tense silence as the men dragged me toward my doom. Women whose husbands and children I healed crossed themselves viciously and averted their eyes. No one called out. No one tried to speak for me. The only sound was my sobs, choked out between mouthfuls of mud and dirt.
They threw me in a crumpled heap at the foot of the hall stairs, and the löwe went to fetch Ulrich. A crowd gathered around me, and several men picked up clumps of mud and filth from the teaming ditches on the edge of the square, and threw handfuls at me. The bravest among them stepped forward and kicked me. I curled into a ball, shielding what parts of my body I could from their missiles, although I had long since stopped feeling any pain.
I curled up into a ball, hiding my face and breasts from their onslaught. The pain seemed to swell within me, erupting into every limb and organ. Bright lights flashed across my vision, and as the pain crept through my mind, blocking out every thought, searing my soul with its tongue of fire.
A strange kind of numbness washed over my body, and I felt myself retreating further away from my own mind. It was as if I was sitting outside my body, listening to the dull thud of their blows and missiles, but I couldn’t feel them any longer. As my numb body was beaten and abused, I said a prayer to the Goddess to take away the fear that clenched my stomach, the only feeling I had left, a gnawing, twisting paroxysm that threatened to overwhelm me, to help me endure the tortures that were to come.
I floated further and further above my body, observing with vacant detachment as my figure flopped and convulsed beneath their attack. The last thing I heard before the numbness enveloped me, and I fell into darkness, was the cruel voice of Ulrich
.
"Bring her to the chamber immediately. I'll deal to her myself."
Ulrich
As I stared down at Ada’s beaten, bloody body, my stomach churned with rage. I balled my hands into fists, trying to push down the firestorm within that threatened to consume me. Her body was so still and her face so bloody, I thought surely she must be dead, and the thought of the world without her in it seemed so inconceivable and cruel that I was ready to do a bit of killing myself.
I had seen this sort of treatment before, of course. It was common for the villagers to channel their fear and frustration into violence upon the accused. But so far, nothing official had even been announced, and no warrant of arrest had been issued. They had no evidence, and yet they had done this to her … to my beautiful Ada.
The fact that she wasn’t mine, and that she was deadly afraid of me, didn’t play into matters. Not now that she was lying there at the mercy of the crowd, she was mine, and they weren’t going to have any more of her.
A man reached forward to snatch at Ada’s torn skirt, his hand on his crotch as if he were thinking of pissing on her. I kicked him so hard he went sailing back into the crowd, knocking over two women. People gasped and moved back, opening a gap around Ada’s body. Her blood pooled around her, running between the cobblestones and mingling with the muddy water that ran toward the drainage ditches at the edge of the square.
“Who did this?” I roared, turning to face the crowd. They slunk back, faces turned from anger to fear in an instant as I thrust my masked face at them. My whole body boiled red hot with rage. Before I even knew what I was doing, my hand flew to my belt and I drew out my sword, the beautiful flat-tipped executioner’s sword that shone with the inlaid face of Christ. I stepped forward and thrust the blade outward, the razor-sharp edge landing just short of cutting out a man’s throat. He stopped dead in his tracks, his hands raised in surrender and his eyes wide with terror.
“Was it you?” I snarled at him, pressing the blade against his skin. A drop of blood appeared at his neck. He whimpered, and I saw a dark puddle forming on his breeches. “Did you dare to touch this woman before she had been officially charged? Was it you who sought to take over my duties?”
“N-n-n-no, Scharfrichter,” the man babbled, his whole body shaking with terror. “I-I-I swear. I was just here in the square and-”
“Silence. I’m deciding if I should charge you with obstructing my duties, or if I should save the trouble of a trial and just slit your throat right here.” He whimpered again, his hands white with fear and shaking uncontrollably. The crowd watched me, every mouth silent, every eye nervously darting between my face and the blade. I tensed my arm, preparing to end the man’s life. They deserved to be taught a lesson-
“Ulrich,” a voice behind me cautioned. It was Tjard. He sounded scared. “You can’t do this. Let us just get her out of the street.”
I growled in my throat, but his words broke through the rage that surrounded my mind. He was right. I couldn’t do this. If I started swinging, that wouldn’t help Ada. And it wouldn’t exactly benefit your situation, either, I had to remind myself. The man’s family would complain to the Bishop, and they would send another scharfrichter to investigate. And I couldn’t have unwanted attention on this place. Not now when I was so close to escape.
It took all of my willpower, but I lowered my sword. “You sicken me,” I snarled at the man. “Get out of my sight.”
The man didn’t need to be told twice, he turned on his heel and scrambled back into the crowd. Tjard raced forward, and bent over Ada, whispering to her in a low, calming tone as he inspected her wounds.
The villagers let out a collective sigh of relief as I replaced the blade into my scabbard. I gave them one last, lingering glare. “Don’t you ever, ever, dole out punishments when it is not your duty to do so. Or I will have every one of you up here in the stocks. I am the scharfrichter here, and don’t you forget it. Now go about your business!” No one moved. “Go!”
The crowd scampered, save a thickset youth and a tall, ruddy-faced man that must’ve been his father. The youth stepped forward. “I am the one who put out the hue and cry. I wish to make a statement,” he declared. “This woman performed a love spell on me. She is a witch.”
I bent down and scooped up Ada’s body. She hung limply from my arms, her head lolling from side to side and her slack limbs drooping gracefully. She was clearly unconscious. That was bad. I had to get her out of the cold, dirty streets, before her wounds became infected.
“Did you hear what I said, Scharfrichter?” the youth bent forward, tapping me on the shoulder. “I said she’s a witch-”
“Get out of my way.” The words were so quiet, they came out in a whisper. But they carried all the malice I could muster. The father stepped back, his face stunned, but the youth carried on, stepping out in front of me again as I moved toward the hall doors.
“But, my statement-”
“We can’t very well trial her for witchcraft if she’s already dead,” I snapped, pushing past him to enter the hall, and kicking his shin as I passed. He doubled over in pain, and I shot him a satisfied grin. “Tjard will take your statement. Now, don’t bother me again. I have work to do.”
Down in the dungeon, I laid Ada out on the rack. Her body still flopped about uselessly, her white hands drooping over the edge of the device. Despite the large bruise around her eye, that was slowly turning black, her beautiful features appeared calm, serene. This was bad. Really, really bad.
“Clarissa!” I called, grabbing the candles out of their sconces and laying them on the corners of the rack. We would need light.
“What?” came the muffled voice from behind the stack of crates in the corner.
“Get out here, now!”
One of the crates shifted out of the stack, and Clarissa pushed her head out. She yawned, stretching her long fingers out in front of her. “You called, my darling? I was sleeping.” I noticed she had made a small alcove for herself in the space between the crates and the wall, covering the dirt floor with cushions and hanging her crystal strands and gypsy charms from the exposed nails.
“Get over here. And bring your herbs.”
Clarissa scrambled out of her hiding place, and came to stand over Ada. Her face fell as she gazed upon the horror of Ada’s bloody body. Without a word Clarissa placed her box on the edge of the rack, moved one of the candles closer, and started pulling out pouches of herbs.
I tore off Ada’s dress, revealing her once beautiful body, now battered and covered with smeared blood. I grabbed one of our pitchers of water and a rag, and started to wash away Ada’s blood, revealing the full extent of her horrific wounds. Ada’s soft skin had been broken in several places, there were huge raw scrapes across her stomach and back from when they dragged her through the streets, and the bruises that covered every inch of her were already turning nasty shades of purple and black.
“Holy Jesus,” whispered Clarissa. She was a gypsy, and didn’t believe in Christ, so her curse was particularly dire. I continued to wash her, while Clarissa dug around in some of the wounds, using a little hooked tool she had to dig out pieces of stone and dirt. Ada was breathing shallowly, but her eyes were shut and her body didn’t respond to my touch. Panic twisted at my gut. I had her in my lair, just as I had dreamed only the day before. But instead of being laid out, her body ready for pleasure, Ada was approaching death.
She can’t die. Not before I’ve had the chance to-
The chance to what? My father’s voice boomed inside my head. You’ve already bedded this wretch once before. What more do you want with her? She’s just a woman. So what if she died? There are many more like her. Many more whores and temptresses fit only to serve-
Quiet! I raged back. There is no one else like her. And I will save her, no matter what you say.
“We’ve got to save her,” I said, dabbing the rag uselessly at one of her open wounds.
“She’s the last victim, isn’t she?” Claris
sa asked, her fiery eyes staring at me with a strange expression. “She’s the one we’ll be burning?”
“Yes. Now please, save her!”
“Get out of my way,” Clarissa snapped. “You’re only good at inflicting pain, not healing it.”
I stepped back, balling my hands into fists at my sides. I realised I had been holding my breath, and I let it out and sucked in another. First, Clarissa picked up the rag and cleaned the wounds more carefully and thoroughly than I ever would. Next, she dumped the contents of her pouches into a stone bowl and used a pestle to grind them into a lumpy, foul-smelling paste. This she dabbed into the worst of the wounds. Then, Clarissa went back to her crate, and pulled out one of the filthy shrouds she usually wore for our little pageant. She tore the shroud into thin strips and began to wrap the worst of the wounds, slipping a tiny coin in between the bandages and whispering some kind of gypsy spell.
As Clarissa rubbed a sweet-smelling salve onto the wound on Ada’s temple, Ada stirred. I leapt forward, pushing Clarissa out of the way and leaning close to her face.
Her head lolled from side to side. One eye fluttered open, the other fixed shut by the huge black bruise. But the pupil rolled around unfocused.
“Ada?” I whispered, stroking her hair. “Can you hear me?”
Her lips parted and she muttered something. I couldn’t make out the words. Clarissa elbowed me in the side. “Ulrich, you need to let me work here.”
“Sorry,” I stepped back, balling my hands into fists again. My stomach churned.
“Why are you so worried about this girl, anyway? You’re acting very odd.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t explain it myself.
Ada mumbled a few more words, and her eye rolled around again, before she clamped it shut once more. Tjard came down the stairs just as Clarissa was dressing the last of the wound. “Is she alright?” he asked, looking at me with an odd expression.
Witch Hunter: dark medieval paranormal romance (Witches of the Woods Book 1) Page 10