Dancing in the Palm of His Hand (22 page)

Eva nodded.

Lutz lifted his hat, ran a hand through his white hair, then pulled the hat back onto his head. “And this was what? Ten, twelve years ago?” He shrugged. “Men make advances; virtuous women refuse them. Herr Doktor Hampelmann's an honourable man. He'd not make an accusation of witchcraft and have you arrested for some long ago...embarrassment.”

“I believe it's not possible to know what Herr Hampelmann would do,” Father Herzeim said sharply.

“Nonsense. It has to be something – or someone – else.” The lawyer glanced at Katharina, who was so quiet Eva hoped they'd forgotten her. “What about her?” said Lutz. “She's a bit...odd. Could someone have reported your daughter to the
Malefizamt
?”

“But then it would be Katharina who was accused,” said the priest. “Not Frau Rosen.”

“Perhaps someone considered the daughter's strangeness evidence of her mother's crimes.”

Eva cringed to hear the lawyer speak her own suspicions aloud. It felt like the worst betrayal she could imagine, to believe, even for a moment, that it might be her own daughter who was to blame for their plight.

“People have been kind to Katharina,” she said. “Children have teased her now and again, but no one would think her a witch. Or the daughter of a witch.”

The priest and the lawyer stood side by side now, arguing quietly with each other, their backs to Eva.

Eva looked down at her torn and ragged fingernails. Katharina's dreams. She couldn't speak of those to the lawyer or
the priest. It was all nonsense anyway. A child's fantasies. How could she have considered, even for a moment, that the Devil had been right there in their cell, that her own daughter was possessed?

Father Herzeim stooped down in front of Eva. “You must prepare her,” he whispered, nodding toward Katharina. “They may call her to testify against you.”

“Not my daughter,” Eva gasped. “How can they?”

“By law, they cannot torture her. She has not been accused. But they'll use tricks of language to get her to implicate you. You must instruct her to listen very closely to the questions they ask and to think carefully before she answers. Katharina must deny – over and over again, if necessary – that either of you has ever had anything to do with the Devil or with witchcraft.”

“Then she need only speak the truth,” said Eva, her throat so tight the words came out in a hoarse whisper.

Father Herzeim turned to Katharina. The girl reached out a hand and smiled at the floor. He turned back to Eva, his dark eyes questioning.

Mother of God, Eva prayed, please protect her, protect us. She must not speak of her strange dreams.

“Pray with me, Father.”

Stifling a yawn, Lutz took his place at the end of the table beside Hampelmann, who barely glanced up from his ledger even when Lutz's knee bumped his. Lutz felt as if his head were stuffed with wool. He'd lain awake all night, fretting, unable to put Johann Weyer's words, or Father Herzeim's, from his mind. Now and again, he'd been able to convince himself of the lack of merit in Weyer's ideas. The man had been a Calvinist after all, an apostate. Father Herzeim, however, was a man of God, a man of the true faith. Yet, as hard as Lutz tried, he could not find a way to square the priest's words with what he'd read in
Der Hexenhammer
, which Pope Innocent VIII had declared to be true. Even so, Lutz could not bring himself to believe that his friend was a sceptic and a defender of witches. Surely Father Herzeim's concern was only for the protection of the innocent.

When Father Streng had finished recording their names, Judge Steinbach tapped the gavel. “The Commission of Inquisition for the Würzburg Court will now come to order,” said the judge. The priest laid the speckled quill beside his breviary and a vial of holy water and stood. As the others rose, their wooden chairs scraped loudly against the stone floor. The men made the sign of the cross and bowed their heads.

“Dearest Father in heaven.” Father Streng's boyish voice rang off the walls, creating a buzz in Lutz's wool-filled ears so that he hardly heard the words. At the “Amen,” the men crossed themselves again, then sat.

Judge Steinbach picked up a document bearing the
Prince-Bishop's wax seal. It shook so much in his palsied hands the parchment rattled. “Prince-Bishop Philipp Adolf has approved our recommendation to release Herr Christoph Silberhans and to expel him from Würzburg.” He glanced nervously at the chancellor.

Chancellor Brandt tugged at the bottom of his silk doublet, pulling it smooth. The flickering candlelight from the lantern danced on the polished silver buttons. He inserted two fingers into the white ruff at his neck and pulled as if to loosen it. “The jailer sent a guard early this morning to inform His Grace that Frau Bettler is dead,” he said. “Apparently she died during the night.”

“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.”

Fraulein 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.”