Dancing in the Palm of His Hand (14 page)

Hampelmann checked his own ledger, the report prepared by the
Malefizamt
. “Let the record show that she has no license. She's been begging illegally.”

Judge Steinbach waited for the priest to finish writing, then said, “Frau Bettler, do you know why you've been brought here?” His thin voice cracked.

Again, the woman's mouth moved, but she said nothing. Her claw-like hands clutched the chair.

“I've tried to explain,” said Lutz, “but she doesn't seem to understand the accusations made against her.”

“How do you know Frau Imhof, Fraulein Stolzberger, and Frau Basser?” asked Chancellor Brandt.

Lutz lifted his hands imploringly. “Chancellor Brandt, she does not understand.”

“Then she will be made to understand.”

Freude loosened the leather lacing of the shift, untied the hemp rope binding the woman's wrists, then pulled at the shift, so that it fell down around her ankles. The old woman howled. Though Hampelmann had seen it many times before, the sight never failed to startle. The woman tried to cover her sudden nakedness with an arm over her flaccid breasts and a hand over her bald crotch. She was exceedingly thin, all knobs and bones, and her skin was covered with dark crusty patches and boils. Lutz stepped away.

“Hardly a need to examine her closely,” said the executioner, pulling a long pin from a leather case. He thrust it into the back of her thigh. The woman did not react. Freude turned her so that her back was to the commissioners. Pus dripped from the boil he'd pricked. “Note that she did not cry out in pain,” he said. “And there is almost no blood. These are Devil's marks, gentlemen, not ordinary sores.”

Lindner came forward and peered closely at her skin, but was careful not to touch her. “I concur with that assessment,” said the physician. “And from all these sores and pustules, I would venture that the woman made her living as a prostitute when she was younger.” He smiled darkly. “Pity the man desperate enough to go to her.”

While Father Streng recorded the finding, Freude pulled the shift up and over the woman, tightened the laces, and bound her wrists. He again placed her hands on the back of the chair.

“When did you first meet with the Devil, Frau Bettler?” said Chancellor Brandt.

The woman's toothless gums opened and closed.

“Have you ever met with the Devil?” Lutz said quietly.

Father Streng raised his quill. “That is not the question, Herr Lutz. The marks upon her confirm that she has met with the Devil. The question is when and where. When did you first meet with the Devil, Frau Bettler?”

The woman's head lolled from side to side.

Chancellor Brandt cracked his knuckles, one by one, making Judge Steinbach cringe with each pop. “If she does not speak to us, Herr Lutz,” said the chancellor, “she will be recorded as taciturn.” He glanced at the executioner. “And then tortured until she does speak.”

“Please, Frau Bettler,” pleaded Lutz, “answer the question. When did you first meet with the Devil?” He touched her arm, then pulled back as if burned.

Hampelmann heard the gasps, his own among them. How could Lutz forget the terrible danger in touching them? The degrading memory of his own carelessness came, unbidden, to his mind. Like Lutz, he'd been a novice on the commission. There'd been a young woman with clear sapphire eyes, unclouded by a trace of guilt, and flawless skin, even when shaved. Hampelmann persuaded himself that she must be innocent. When he visited her in her cell, her graceful hand reached out. He could have stepped back. Instead, he let her soft fingers rest lightly on his cheek, her thumb wiping away a tear he didn't even know he'd shed. That night, lying beside Helena, he dreamed of her. The young woman came to him, her full breasts showing through her gown of sheer red silk. Her dark hair fell loose to her narrow waist. She danced like Salome, just out of reach, then coyly came closer, onto the bed, and sat astride. He could feel the inviting wetness between her thighs. He saw then that her eyes were not blue, but orange and glowing, like hot coals. Her teeth were black points in a red grinning mouth. He awoke, terrified, and choking on
hexen gestank
. He knew then that the woman was a witch, a succubus. If God's hand had not shaken him awake, his soul would have been lost to the Devil. His arousal shamed him, but also taught him how easy it was to be deceived. He should warn Lutz.

The old woman rocked back and forth. “Gott. Gott. Gott.”

Father Streng leaped up. “The woman dares to blaspheme? A violation of Article 106 of the Carolina Code.”

“She is praying,” said Lutz. “She cannot speak coherently.”

“I've seen this woman begging on the steps of the cathedral,” said Hampelmann. “Heard her cursing. She was coherent enough then. I suspect that she just needs a bit of convincing.”

“Show her the first instrument of torture, Herr Freude,” said Chancellor Brandt. Judge Steinbach folded his arms over his stomach and shrank into his chair.

The executioner reached for the set of thumbscrews on the shelf. He'd polished the metal plates and the large centre screw so that the iron gleamed. He held the instrument in front of the woman. She stared blankly.

“She cannot see,” said Lutz. “Frau Bettler is almost totally blind.”

Freude draped her hands over the thumbscrews so that her fingers could explore the instrument, but her hands lay still, except for their continuous tremor.

“When did you first meet with the Devil?” said Chancellor Brandt.

“She does not understand,” said Lutz.

Chancellor Brandt nudged Judge Steinbach, who then sat up. “Record the woman as taciturn,” he said. “Take her back to her cell, Herr Freude, and bring us...”

“The maidservant,” said Hampelmann. “Fraulein Spatz.”

Freude prodded Frau Bettler from the chamber. Lutz sat down at the table and flicked through his ledger. Hampelmann saw that the pages were wrinkled and smudged. Notes were scrawled in corners and margins. Hampelmann squinted to read them:
Carolina Code, article 58. Evidence? Ask F. Herzeim
. What a dangerous foolishness to consult that man, a suspected sceptic. He should warn Lutz about that, too.

While they waited, Chancellor Brandt replaced the nub of tallow in the lantern with a new candle. Lindner added a few pieces of wood to the fire in the mesh basket. Lutz drummed his blunt fingers in an irregular rhythm that Hampelmann found unsettling, a sound like soft chuckling. Hampelmann's hand went to the ball of wax at his throat. Then he smelled it:
hexen gestank
. He glanced into the shadows. Red eyes. A rat, surely, but he could not see its outline, only the glowing eyes. He crossed himself.
In nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti
. God protects those who do his will. He had nothing to fear from the Devil.

Freude returned with the young woman, who, when she turned around, had the appearance of being simple-minded. Her eyes were dull, her mouth slack, her face pasty and pockmarked.

Father Streng came forward, held up the crucifix, and commanded her to swear.

“
Ja
,” she said eagerly, bobbing her head.

“State your name and age,” said Judge Steinbach.

“Fraulein Ursula Spatz, age 18, sir.”

“Date of birth,” said Chancellor Brandt.

“March 22. Or maybe 23 or 24. I-I'm not sure.”

Father Streng, having returned to his seat and his ledger, waved the quill. “Year?”

The girl stood, her face blank.

“Never mind,” he said. “I'll do the subtraction. You say you are 18?”

“I-I think so.”

Father Streng made no effort to hide his contempt. “Apparently then you were born in 1608. Does that make sense to you, Fraulein Spatz?”

The girl gave a small shrug.

“Parents?” said Chancellor Brandt.

“My mother died when I was born. I never knew my father.”

“An orphan then, probably a bastard,” said Father Streng. “Do you know your real name?”

“I was named by the director of the Julius Hospital. I lived there with the other orphans until I was hired out by Herr Zwingen.” She spat the name.

“Do you know why you've been brought here?” asked Judge Steinbach.

“
N-nein
.”

“You do not know, Fraulein Spatz, of the accusations made against you?” said Chancellor Brandt.

Her face crumpled. “I-I know about them, but they're all lies.”

“How did you know Frau Imhof, Fraulein Stolzberger, and Frau Basser?” asked Hampelmann.

“I didn't.”

Hampelmann cocked his head. “You claim not to have known them and that their accusations are lies. Yet all three witches testified that you attended the sabbath with them.”

“
Nein
,” she shouted. “I've never been to a witches' meeting.”

Chancellor Brandt nodded toward the executioner. Freude loosened the shift's laces, untied the girl's wrists, then quickly pulled the shift from her shoulders so that it fell to the floor. Though her shocked face was plain and doughy, her large body lumpy and ungainly, her heavy legs widely bowed, Hampelmann felt himself respond to the nakedness she tried so desperately to hide. Chiding himself for his body's weakness, he concentrated on the pulley on the ceiling. This was exactly what witches wanted, for men like him to be made weak and stupid by lust – so stupid they might actually believe them to be innocent.

The executioner drew out his pin and poked it into a large pockmark on the girl's shoulder. “O-o-ow!” she wailed. With a hand now free from restraint, she tried to cover the place he'd pricked. He slapped her hand away.

“What am I to record, Herr Freude?” said Father Streng, his quill poised.

“She feels the pain, but there is little blood. She could be feigning. Most of her marks would appear to be from smallpox.”

“Then search her more thoroughly,” the priest said impatiently. “It is repugnant, I know, but
Der Hexenhammer
requires it. Accused witches must be searched:
even in the most secret parts of their bodies, which must not be named.”

The girl's neck and face flushed scarlet when Freude forced her to bend forward so he could examine her buttocks and crotch. The commissioners watched closely. Whimpering, she covered her face with her hands. Hampelmann looked away and saw that Lutz
had bowed his head. Torchlight played across the lawyer's blanched face.

“I see nothing unusual,” said Freude. “Herr Doktor Lindner, would you have a look?” The physician came forward and directed Freude where to poke and prod with the birch rod. They stepped back and consulted, then Lindner pointed, and Freude poked her again in the crotch, carefully separating the folds. The girl bit down on her lip, but did not cry out.

Lindner returned to his seat. “She bears the
stigma diaboli
in the most secret of places,” he announced. “It could have been given to her in only one way. The girl has copulated with a demon.”

“
Nein
,” she screamed. “Never.”

Freude smacked the back of her bald head. “You are not to speak except to answer questions.” He held out the shift to the girl, who pulled it over her body as quickly as she could. He bound her wrists.

“Where and when did you first meet with the Devil?” said Hampelmann.

“Never. I go to mass every Sunday, and confession. Just like I'm told. I'm a good girl.”

Chancellor Brandt laid a hand over the gold medallion on his chest. “You claim to be a good girl, but didn't you bear a child out of wedlock?”

“I-I was forced.”

“Forced?”

“By my employer, Herr Zwingen.”

Snorting incredulously, Lindner leaned forward. “Fraulein Spatz, you conceived a child. Medical evidence proves that conception cannot occur unless there is pleasure. How can you possibly insist you were forced? Have you forgotten that you have sworn to tell the truth?”

“
Nein
. I mean
ja
, Herr Zwingen forced me. I did not do it willingly.”

Chancellor Brandt whispered into Judge Steinbach's ear. “Let the record show,” said the judge, “that the initial testimony of the accused has proved to be false.”

Lutz lowered his head into his hands.

“There are people who claim they heard a baby crying the night your son was born,” said Hampelmann, “but you made a statement to the Prince-Bishop's bailiff that the child was born dead.”

“That's the truth,” she said. “They heard some other baby.”

“You are absolutely certain the child was born dead?” said Chancellor Brandt.

“
Ja
.”

“During the birth, could you see the midwife at all times?” said Father Streng.

“
Ja
.”

“Was there ever a time when you fainted from pain or fell asleep, or even closed your eyes to rest,” said Hampelmann, “a time during which the midwife might have murdered the child without your knowing?”

Lutz stood. “Wait! What evidence is there that the baby was murdered? Did anyone examine the body? Were there marks of strangulation or smothering? A crushed skull?”

“The body was examined by a qualified physician,” said Lindner, “a respected colleague of mine. According to his report, there were no bruises or abrasions. In fact, the infant was perfect, and of such size and weight that he should have lived. That and the secrecy of the birth are what make this death so suspicious. Smothering leaves no marks.”

“But did anyone check the lungs?” said Lutz. “Were they still filled with birth waters or had the child drawn breath?”

Lindner thrust out his fat lower lip. “Doesn't matter. A midwife could easily smother a baby before it ever draws breath.”

Lutz sat down, his shoulders slumped.

“Herr Lutz,” said Chancellor Brandt, “
bitte
, let us continue without further interruption. We have much to do today. Fraulein Spatz, could the midwife have murdered the baby?”