The Witch's Trinity (12 page)

Jostling up behind me came Frau Traugott with a bucket of melted snow.

“About time!” said the friar’s notary, who took it from her and dashed the contents over Künne’s chest, to make her heart feel the iciness.

I held my breath. Would that she did not wake up!

But in a few moments, Künne sputtered and sat up. Water dripped off her into the snow. “You fainted,” said the notary. “Your connivance was merely a delay, however.” He pulled her up to standing. As horrible as it had been to see her stripped in the church, her nakedness was even more disturbing here, open to the elements and to the cold sunlight, which allowed not a single modest shadow. Her arm was a bright red against the mossy white of the rest of her body. As he escorted her to the pyre, all eyes were on her, so I dared not approach. She walked up the row of logs carefully, for they did shift a bit, and she grasped the notary’s arm to keep from falling. He tied her hands at the wrist, crossed, and ran the rope around her waist and above her breasts to the back of the pole. He then knelt to tie her ankles. This posture, bent with his head near the gray pocket of her sex, made the young men hoot.

“What a whore, her last thoughts being of the face in her thighs!” one called.

The notary, his task completed, walked backward down the pyre as if down a ladder. My bowels uncoiled within me and I cramped so terribly that I sank to my knees in the snow.

“All pray,” commanded the friar.

Obediently, they all turned to the west, the direction where we last see the sun’s iron slip. For generations, villagers have faced so while offering up beasts for sacrifice. The friar did not notice this, for he had already bowed his head. They all knelt and closed their eyes in piety. I saw what wondrous fortune this was, for now their bodies faced away from Künne. This was my moment.

“Vengeful Father, who seeketh purity and is askance not to find it, we beg your hand to come down upon the frail body before you and smite the evil from it. Strengthen Künne Himmelmann with your fierce and holy love….”

I staggered to my feet. The snow was the icy crystalline kind, which permitted me a bit of silence if I stepped carefully.

“Burn the devil’s influence from her and lighten her soul….”

I hoped the friar would pray at length, for I was still quite far from Künne.

“As her soul shrieks out the anguish of repentance, let us be filled not with terror but rather with joy, dear Lord, for your will shall cleanse….”

As I passed by Herr Fuhrmann, my skirts brushed his back and he twitched. I watched his neck, alarmed, as it halfway rose. I bent down, ready to plunge to my knees and behave as if I had always been so, but he lowered his head again. I continued.

“We seek mercy only when it is merciful. But were we to leave this child unchastened, her soul would further degrade….”

I looked up at Künne. Her eyes were wide with horror, and she soundlessly screamed at me to hurry. She pushed against the limits of her ropes, which made the post creak. She ceased instantly. She put her teeth together as I have only seen wolves do, and showed me the face of a beast keening for itself.

The friar paused. I froze.

He cleared his throat.

Please, do not let this be the end of the prayer!
My palms tightened around the chilling balls of wax.

I took another step, though the friar’s silence endured. Why had I not brought
Pillen
from both plants so that she could take both and be assured of the right one? What if I had brought her a mundane plant for fever ease? I stepped again. Surely he would speak amen or continue on. If I was caught bringing surcease to her, I would wish to swallow the
Pillen
myself, for I’d be standing atop a pile of wood soon as well.

“We are sobered at the sight of our wicked sister,” continued the friar.

Now it was only an expanse of snow between me and Künne. Her eyes looked like what might fit in the eyeholes of Alke’s pelt. I placed my foot on the first log and began tottering. Would I be able to climb up there? I
had
to. I leaned over and used my hands to climb like a four-legged beast, one hand clenched around the
Pillen.
I clambered clumsily, until I caught a glimpse of Künne’s feet. There was something so unearthly about the sight of bare feet against raw wood that I surged with wondrous power to the top of the pyre.

“So it is with joyful hearts, full of the love of our God who is so true, that we offer up our sister….”

It sounded as though he was coming to the end. It was strange to press against Künne, naked and shivering, with myself garmented. I thrust all three
Pillen
into her mouth and watched as she struggled to swallow. Her terror had left her mouth dry. I rubbed my palm down her throat. This was a way we had made sick lambs swallow bitter treatments, by rubbing their throats in a downward motion.

Her throat worked.

She swallowed.

We would never be able to discuss whether my choice was one of folly. “Dear Künne,” I whispered. “I want you to know—”

“Even one
Pille
would have been enough. I will be away from my body before the flames touch me. Güde, be very careful. Hunger has made enemies of all.”

These were no words of love, but I shouldn’t have expected them. Her mind was not on young girls in a meadow with flowers in their laps. Her reality was an entire village gathered in scorn, to watch her naked body erupt in flame. I kissed her dried lips and tumbled off the pile of logs as fast as I could. I only cared now that I had chosen well for my friend.

“In this, as in all things, we praise you. Amen.”

I was about to assume a kneeling position as the heads came up, but I was facing the wrong direction. I saw a few faces frown in surprise, so I quickly turned.

The friar made a sound of disgust. “You face west like your ignorant forebears. Do you not see that God is enveloping you, in all directions? Rise, people of Tierkinddorf.”

The villagers all stood, wiping snow off their knees, and turned around again to see the woman perched atop the pile of wood.

“Did you pray with us?” he asked Künne.

“I prayed of my own devising, sir,” she answered.

He nodded grimly and motioned to his notary, who held aloft a torch carrying a yellow ball of flame at its tip.

“Praise be to God,” said the friar.

The man touched the torch to a bit of kindling in the lowest tier of the pile. He walked a few steps, then bent to light again. He circled Künne, lighting her wood three more times. I studied her face, hoping to see her eyes drift closed in a sweet dream rendered by the herb.

The fire crackled and began sending up smoke.

“Better this than hellfire!” jeered the cobbler.

“Burn,
Hexe
!” This was from a female voice. I did not have to turn to know that it was Frau Zweig. I could now feel the heat from the fire and knew it must be twicefold for Künne. Her eyes, rather than watching me, fastened on some spot in the distance. Clouds of smoke kept blocking our vision of her. A spasm crossed her face and I held my breath. Was it the herb working? Or the heat becoming unbearable?

“What are you looking for?” screamed someone. “The devil to fly on horseback and deliver you?”

The fire had crept up the log pile but had still not reached her feet.

I clasped my hands together and prayed, not an elaborate prayer like the friar’s, and not even specifically addressed to God, but a simple, crude prayer, of three words only, over and over:
Ease her quick. Ease her quick.

The crackling sound was enormously loud. I thought, in between the repetitions of my prayer, that I would never be able to cook over a fire or sit by one again for warmth without thinking of this fire.
Ease her quick. Ease her by craft and false pretense.
I wailed in distress at the witch’s song intruding on my prayer for Künne. I had to keep my mind pure for her.
Ease her quick. Ease her quick.

The flames would be at her in another moment.

Why had I not grabbed all the plants and simply stuffed them into her mouth? Why had I taken the time to melt the wax and create tiny
Pillen
? I was desperate to see her face become lax under the herb’s spell. I could have crept faster, given the plant a longer time to take its effect in her body. I had been no friend. Why, I had even stood still in her cottage for long moments I’d had no right to waste, as my idiot mind tried to regather the purpose of my mission! My hands fell out of prayer and I raised them to batter at my temples. Why had my mind failed me on this most important of days?
Ease her quick. Ease her quick.
The heat was unbearable. I knew my own face must be red as the sex of a sheep pushing out her lambs.
Ease her quick.
I watched one flame, the tallest, flicker near Künne’s right foot. If I had failed, we were about to watch death in the most dire way, writhing through intense pain.
Please, God.
I watched her bite her lip as a second spasm crossed her face. I knew not how to interpret it until she laughed.

And then I was full glad, for I knew the herb had control of her.

It wasn’t one to loosen her muscles but instead clenched them.

She spasmed again and again and tears rolled down my face as she painlessly twisted in the herb’s influence. She leaned forward, as if falling, but the ropes kept her in place. She continued bending, over and over, like she was in the river doing her washing. Her hands and fingers moved, and if they hadn’t been tied they would have flown up into the air like startled birds. And then her hair, her gray hair in flustered waves around her face, a profusion falling onto her thin shoulders, suddenly snapped with white light and burst into flames.

We all cried out; how could we know the fire would not consume her from the bottom up but would instead select the most combustible part of her, like a starting fire chooses the smallest kindling? The flames moved her head around, made it seem someone stood behind her manipulating it, front to back, side to side, as if she wildly agreed with someone and then vehemently changed her mind. Her mouth opened wide, but no scream came. Her eyes glared at nobody. She was already gone.

I gagged at the smell, which clogged my throat. I backed up, bumped into someone.

Künne’s feet were burning now, releasing a sour, fumid smoke that seemed monstrous, from hell. And her face began to disappear in the bright red flames. The fire did strange things to her expression: cocked her eyes, curled her lip. I could hear chants behind me.

“Burn, witch!”

I wondered how they could open their mouths to speak in this cloud of stench. I wondered if goats, sheep, and other beasts that stood in the yard as the smell of their kind’s cooking flesh drifted from the chimney were equally nauseated.

How long would this fire burn? There was certainly more than enough fuel to keep it going into the small hours of the morning. But I did not want Künne’s fire to go on so long, couldn’t bear the thought of her ashes drifting in the wind unheeded, after people lost interest and went home. I would tend this fire until every ember gave up.

She did not stand upright for long. The rope burned, releasing from the stake, and her body slumped onto the pile of wood. This brought more jeers. As she landed, her arm stretched out toward me, and I watched the flesh and muscle jerk in the flames, but by the time I saw the whiteness of the bone appear, no one stood with me. Künne was no longer distinguishable in this burning mass; except for the smell, this spectacle was now the same as any hunter’s fire. Since there was no woman to hate within the flames, everyone had made their way home. Even the friar had considered the duty rendered and was probably back studying his book to prepare for his next journey. I hoped he would soon leave our village. It was a desperate and terrible thing to kill Künne, but perhaps everyone felt it had cleared our curse. I knew, though, that my sweet friend had had nothing to do with the fields lying barren.

I waited through all the sounds of the evening coming on while the fire yet burned. The owls took their turns over the light that surprised them, and the wolves howled far away. Darkness fell and I crept closer to the fire for warmth. I would not abandon her bones here, where the wolves could find them and drag them into the forest. Snow fell, a light, flaky snow that I brushed from my shoulders without leaving any true wetness. It wasn’t until the blaze was the size of a small kitchen fire that I felt Jost’s arms around me. “You must come home, Mutter,” he said. “You can be of no help to her now.”