Lutz gripped the pomander and prayed. Was it possible that Frau Rosen and Katharina would walk free that very day?
Finally, the executioner returned. He threw several logs onto the glowing embers in the wire basket, then took his place at the end of the table.
“This is one of the most baffling cases we’ve ever had,” said Chancellor Brandt. “How should we proceed?”
“Recommend to the Prince-Bishop that Frau Rosen and her daughter be released at once,” Hampelmann said adamantly.
“They must be released,” agreed Lutz.
“Nein,” said Freude. “I don’t believe the girl. Her mother should be questioned under torture. Then we shall have the truth from her. The Rosen girl is possessed. That’s how she knows what she claims to know.”
“There is not one bit of evidence to justify torture,” said Lutz. “And Katharina is not possessed, Herr Freude.”
Lindner pulled at his fringe of sandy hair. “I have to agree with Herr Lutz. That girl shows no real signs of possession. She could know what she knows only if what Herr Hampelmann reported seeing is true.”
“Of course it’s true,” snapped Hampelmann.
Father Streng ran a finger down a page in his ledger. “On the one hand, gentlemen, we have the evidence against Frau Rosen: the accusations from three condemned witches, Herr Kaiser’s illness, and the suspicious death of her husband. On the other hand, we have two relevant findings: she has withstood the first degree of torture, and Herr Hampelmann has seen a sign from God that the woman is innocent, a sign that would appear to be confirmed by her daughter’s testimony. I recommend that we submit this case to the law professors at the university. All of the relevant facts are here in this report, in detail.”
“But the evidence is clear,” said Lutz. “Why do we need an external review?”
“Article 109 of the Carolina Code,” said Father Streng. “As you, yourself, reminded us, jurists are directed to consult with the law faculty of the nearest university regarding the use of torture.”
“I agree with Herr Lutz,” said Hampelmann. “The evidence is clear. The accusations made by condemned witches were obviously a malicious conspiracy, just as they were in Herr Silberhans’ case. And the reports made to the Malefizamt were also malicious and without merit.” He slapped the table with an open palm. “And I have seen a sign. A sign confirmed by Katharina herself.”
Chancellor Brandt rubbed his gold medallion between a thumb and forefinger. “I think Father Streng is right. Let men who can review this case more dispassionately than we can make the decision. Judge Steinbach can have the report sent by courier yet today.” He glanced pointedly at the judge.
Lutz’s stomach churned. Damn, Frau Rosen and Katharina would be left sitting in that wretched cell for at least another few days. He rotated his shoulders, trying to make himself relax. God had helped Frau Rosen through the torture, he assured himself, and even sent Hampelmann a sign. Surely God would not allow the professors at the university to decide against her now. And Father Herzeim would be among the men consulted. His arguments would assure her release.
Chancellor Brandt picked up the judge’s watch, then laid it back down. “And now, gentlemen, we must deal with Frau Lamm. Her case, though difficult, is at least clear.”
“Bring her in, Herr Freude,” said Judge Steinbach.
Before he left, the executioner added more wood to the roaring fire. He placed the pincers on the hot coals. Lutz dreaded what was to come. Yesterday, he’d made a fool of himself by screaming when the midwife screamed. Hampelmann was right. Lutz didn’t have the stomach for this. He felt a constant churning in his gut, a painful burning in his chest and throat. He almost wished the midwife had died – or the Devil had killed her. He hated it that he couldn’t help her. Nor shouldn’t. He felt, instinctively, that Father Herzeim was wrong in this case. Frau Lamm was evil. Lutz had re-read what Der Hexenhammer said about witch midwives, that they surpassed all other witches in their crimes. He wished, though, that the commission could just dispatch her quickly, mercifully, and be done with it, but he knew that Der Hexenhammer also said that a witch should not be condemned to die unless convicted by her own confession. In order to execute her, they had to get a confession, and so far, she’d given them nothing.
“Would that we had the Prince-Bishop’s relic,” said Hampelmann thoughtfully. “A thorn from the crown would keep the Devil from this chamber and prevent him from helping Frau Lamm.”
Chancellor Brandt pulled at his dark beard. “If Frau Rosen’s glance can banish the Devil, why not bring her in?”
“That would be highly irregular,” said Judge Steinbach, sliding the gavel from one shaking hand to the other.
“But it might work,” Father Streng said excitedly.
“I don’t think we should,” said Lutz. “It’s a departure from proper procedure.” And the ordeal would be terrifying for Frau Rosen. How could she not see herself in the midwife’s place?
“But if she helps us to get a confession from Frau Lamm,” said Hampelmann, “it would be more evidence confirming her innocence.”
Freude returned, carrying the midwife, who could no longer walk. He set her in the chair and, when she started to slide off, tied her upright with hemp ropes around her waist and chest. Her head drooped. Her bare feet and ankles, bruised a vivid purple and black, were so swollen the discoloured skin looked as if it might burst.
“Herr Freude,” said Chancellor Brandt. “Bring in Frau Rosen as well.”
The executioner flinched.
“If she can keep the Devil away,” explained Hampelmann, “she can assist us in the questioning of Frau Lamm.”
“Nein, that’s a complete departure from proper procedure,” said Freude.
Chancellor Brandt glowered. “Get her, Herr Freude.”
The executioner left, grumbling under his breath.
Father Streng stepped forward with the crucifix and made the sign of the cross over Frau Lamm. “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?”
The midwife didn’t move. Reluctantly, Lutz pushed himself up from the table and went to stand by her side. “Do you swear to tell the truth, Frau Lamm?”
Her head flopped to one side, and she considered Lutz with the one eye that had not swollen completely shut. She mouthed the word ja.
Father Streng made the sign of the cross and sprinkled holy water over her, then walked to the fire and flicked a few drops onto the pincers. The water hissed and sputtered. He took his place at the table.
Freude returned with Frau Rosen, but appeared unsure whether she should be made to step backwards into the chamber or if she could now enter facing the commissioners.
“Just bring her in,” Chancellor Brandt said impatiently.
Bewildered and obviously frightened, Frau Rosen looked from Hampelmann to Lutz, and finally, to Chancellor Brandt.
“You are not here for questioning, Frau Rosen,” said the chancellor. “You are here to free Frau Lamm from the Devil’s grip, to rid the Devil from this chamber.”
The executioner led her to a place in front of the table. She sat down on the floor, facing Frau Lamm.
“Frau Lamm is already sworn, Herr Freude,” said Judge Steinbach. “You may proceed.”
The executioner grabbed the top of the midwife’s shift and ripped it open, revealing shoulders as swollen and discoloured as her feet and ankles. The movement made her cry out.
Lutz pulled at his starched collar. Sweat dripped down his back. The heat in the chamber was stifling. He couldn’t breathe. The men’s flushed faces gleamed.
“Do you wish to make your confession now, Frau Lamm? Or later?” said Freude.
She shook her head weakly.
Freude pulled down the shift to expose her breasts, then stepped to the w
ire basket. Placing a protective pad over his hand, he picked up the red-hot pincers. He approached the midwife, then quickly pierced her right breast with the pincers and pulled, slicing through it. The midwife released a scream that echoed off the walls.
Bright red blood splattered onto Lutz’s white cuffs. He grabbed the back of the chair. The sight, the sound, the smell of blood and burning flesh. His vision spun, then faded to black. When he came to, he was lying on the floor and Freude was waving hartshorn under his nose. The executioner sneered. “You might want to take a seat at the table, Herr Lutz.”
Lutz struggled to his feet, then leaned against the wall, his pomander to his nose. He was panting, and sweating. Frau Rosen crouched on the floor, rocking herself, her bound and bandaged hands over her face.
“When and where did you meet with the Devil?” said Hampelmann.
His handsome face was calm and composed, his pale blue eyes impassive. Such a contrast, thought Lutz, to the man’s agitation when Frau Rosen was in the thumbscrews. Then, he’d seemed ready to jump out of his skin. Just the way Lutz felt now.
“Nein,” the midwife mouthed, watching her own blood soak her shift.
Freude placed the pincers near her left breast.
She began to weep. “Tell me...what you want me...to say...and I’ll say it.”
The pincers tore through the breast, ripping the nipple.
Lutz retched, green bile splashing onto the stone floor.
“Did you attend the sabbath with Frau Basser, Frau Imhof, and Fraulein Stolzberger?” said Hampelmann.
She nodded weakly.
“Is that where you fornicated with the Devil?” said Lindner.
Silence.
“Answer!” shouted Chancellor Brandt.
“Ja,” she mouthed.
“Did you trample the host?” said Judge Steinbach. “And spit upon the crucifix?”
Her head lifted, then dropped.
Father Streng was scribbling frantically, the quill scratching across the page. “Did you kill Fraulein Spatz’s baby?” he asked.
Silence.
Freude held the hot pincers near her breast.
Again, her head lifted and dropped.
“Did you take the baby to the sabbath to share its flesh and blood with other witches?” Father Streng demanded.
The slightest of nods.
Lutz leaned against the wall and stared at the grey stone. A confession obtained in this way couldn’t possibly be valid. But what did that matter? The woman was guilty, and obtaining her confession meant it would soon be over. For everyone.
“Who else was at the sabbath with you?” said Hampelmann, squinting at his ledger. “Did you see a young woman named Fraulein Wagner, or a beggar woman who goes by the name of Old Frau Holtzman?”
The midwife gave a single nod.
“And Father Herzeim, your confessor?” said Hampelmann.
Lutz roused himself. “I object,” he said, glaring at Hampelmann. “You cannot suggest names to the accused.”
For the first time since she’d been brought in, Frau Lamm raised her head and looked at the commissioners. Her one good eye locked on Hampelmann. “Nein, not the priest,” she said with obvious effort. “I saw Frau Hampelmann.”
Hampelmann leaped up. “Do not record that!” he shouted at Father Streng. “She’s lying.” He strode toward the midwife,touching Frau Rosen on the shoulder in passing. “Fix your eyes upon her so that Frau Lamm cannot lie again.”
Slowly, Frau Rosen lowered her hands. Her eyes were huge and dark in a white and terrified face.
Hampelmann grabbed a birch rod and raised it over Frau Lamm. “Tell us, you witch, who you really saw.”
The midwife considered each commissioner in turn, her one-eyed gaze coming to rest on Lutz. He held his breath. Oh, God, no, please don’t let her name Maria.
“Frau Hampelmann,” she repeated. Then cackled.
The blow was so hard Lutz was sure it had snapped the woman’s neck. He and Freude moved to restrain Hampelmann from hitting her again, then the executioner put the pincers to her right breast, which had already been torn nearly in half. Her shift and the stones beneath her were soaked with blood. “Tell us the truth,” said Freude.
She gasped, then her head dropped.
Lindner stepped forward. Freude lifted the midwife’s head so the physician could examine her face. “That’s all she can take for today,” said Lindner. “We have obtained a confession and names of accomplices. That’s all we need.”
“But she’s not yet retracted her lies,” screamed Hampelmann. “We cannot stop.”
“I understand your concern,” said Lindner, “but anything more will almost certainly kill her.”
Judge Steinbach tapped the gavel. “Take her back to her cell, Herr Freude. Then come back for Frau Rosen.”
Father Streng smiled at Frau Rosen. “Danke, Frau Rosen. Your presence appears to have freed the midwife from the Devil’s grasp. I’ll be sure to include that in the report to the university.”
33
28 April 1626
Lutz tossed his hat to the side and sank into the rickety chair opposite the desk. “They will recommend release, won’t they?”
Candlelight cast Father Herzeim’s face in shadow, accentuating its grim and angled aspect. “It is not a foregone conclusion,” he said. “But there are only five of us, so I need convince only two to vote with me. The professors are stubborn and arrogant in their certainty, but the evidence in Frau Rosen’s case is so weak they may be willing to listen to reason.” He glanced toward the corner where his manuscript and heretical books lay hidden. “I promise you, Lutz, I will do everything I can to protect her and Katharina. Everything.”
He turned back to Lutz. “If only you – or someone else – had seen the sign Herr Hampelmann saw, the arguments for release would be that much stronger.”
Signs. Lutz had never seen a sign in his life. Not one that he recognized anyway. He wished now that he’d seen whatever Hampelmann had, or at least had thought quickly enough to claim he had. He was willing to lie to save Frau Rosen’s life. There would be time enough later to beg God’s forgiveness. Now, there were larger truths at stake. “Do you really believe Hampelmann saw a sign?”
The priest’s mouth twisted on one side. “With God, all things are possible. I would certainly like to believe he intervened on Frau Rosen’s behalf. It would give me greater confidence that he will guide the professors to make the right decision. Have you told Frau Rosen about the commission’s decision?”
“I just came from her cell,” said Lutz. “She is hopeful, especially since I told her that you would be among the professors who will be making the decision. She knows you believe her to be innocent.”
“A woman of great faith. Perhaps greater than mine.” Father Herzeim’s fingers trailed over his cedar cross. “I can only hope her faith in me is not unfounded.”
The candle had burned down to a flickering nub. Father Herzeim reached into a desk drawer for another and placed it into the holder. Hot wax dripped onto his thumb and forefinger, but he seemed not to notice. “And what of Frau Lamm?” he said.
Though he tried, desperately, Lutz couldn’t stop the flood of images, sounds, and smells provoked by the mention of the midwife: red-hot pincers tearing at breasts, blood spurting, vomit, joints popping, piss, bones grinding, shit. The small bit of dark bread and fish he’d eaten for supper rose into his throat. He swallowed it back. “She finally made a confession today.”
“Confession,” spat the priest. His face showing fierce disgust, he stared into the candle flame. “How can they continue to do this? I visited her today. The woman is barely alive.”
“It’s horrible, I know, but she’s guilty. She deserves her punishment.”
“Does she? Did the commissioners have one shred of solid evidence she’d committed a crime worthy of such torture, worthy of such a death?”
“There may be no evidence, but the woman just...just–”
; “Just what?”
“Just seems evil.”
“Why?” His dark eyes narrowed to slits. “Because she defied the commissioners and refused to lie? Refused to confirm the foul conjurings of their own minds?” Father Herzeim slammed a fist on the desk, making the small flame waver. “Damn them.” He looked toward the ceiling, tears in his eyes. “Would that I had her courage. She may be the bravest one of us all, Lutz.”
“I admire her courage, but I still believe she’s guilty.” Lutz saw again the midwife’s evil eye fixed upon him. Guilty. And wicked enough to accuse an innocent: Frau Hampelmann. Thank God she hadn’t named Maria.
“You should know,” Lutz said, pulling his fingers through his tangled beard, “that when Hampelmann suggests names to the accused, yours is the name he mentions most often.”
Father Herzeim gave Lutz his crooked half smile. “I am like a thorn in his soul. In a secret part of him, he knows that what I say is true. The thorn pricks at his own doubts, and the pricking drives him to try and silence me.”
“I’ve heard precious few doubts from Hampelmann.”
“Even Father Streng has his doubts.”
Lutz snorted. “Nein, the Jesuit seems absolutely certain about what he and the other commissioners are doing.”
“Why then are they so quick to quote to each other long passages from Jean Bodin, Martin Delrio, and Der Hexenhammer, if not to reassure themselves and to quell the doubts that plague them?”
Lutz fingered his starched cuff. The spots of red blood, the midwife’s blood, had turned brown. He touched the ball of wax at his throat. Doubts. Possible, but not likely. It was only he who seemed plagued with doubts about the commission’s work.
Father Herzeim gazed into the darkness beyond the window. A few evening stars had appeared in the clear night sky. “Sooner or later,” he said, “Hampelmann will get what he wants: three accused witches who are willing to name me as an accomplice. And then he can send the Prince-Bishop’s bailiff to arrest me. I only hope that I can complete my manuscript before he does.”
Dancing in the Palm of His Hand Page 23
