Dancing in the Palm of His Hand (24 page)

The midwife's body convulsed. She was weeping. Or laughing. “Bastard,” she spat. Father Streng recoiled, and in that moment, Hampelmann glimpsed a dark shadow flit across the wall behind Frau Lamm. He caught his breath. The Devil was here, helping her. Hampelmann crossed himself, then touched the ball of wax at his throat.

“Pull her up again,” said Chancellor Brandt. “And this time, add the weights.”

“Just a moment,” said Lindner. The physician walked around the table to examine Frau Lamm. He directed Freude to hold up her head.

“I recommend that we end the torture for today,” said Lindner. “We're getting nothing from her, and if Herr Freude does much more, she may be damaged so badly we'll never get anything.”

“I agree,” said Freude. “Don't want to lose another one to the Devil.”

Hampelmann turned to the chancellor and nodded. The Devil was keeping the woman's resolve far too strong and protecting her from pain. After a few days of sitting and contemplating the torture yet to come, she would weaken, especially after the Devil abandoned her. He had no loyalty to his followers. Hampelmann wondered if he should suggest to Chancellor Brandt that he bring in the Prince-Bishop's reliquary. Surely a thorn from the crown would force the Devil to flee.

“All right,” said Chancellor Brandt. “We can continue the torture on Monday.”

Lutz raised a hand, pulled it back, then raised it again.

“According to the Carolina Code,” he said tentatively, “torture cannot be repeated unless there is new evidence. Frau Lamm has confessed to nothing. There is no new evidence.”

“Apparently, Herr Lutz, you did not hear me correctly,” said Chancellor Brandt. “I did not say we would
repeat
the torture on Monday. I said we would
continue
it. Continuation of torture is permitted under the Carolina Code.” He brought his gold pomander to his nose and breathed deeply of the costly spices it contained: clove and cinnamon. “Herr Freude, take Frau Lamm back to her cell and instruct the jailer's wife to tend to her. But tell her to clean up the mess in this chamber first. The stench is unbearable.” He turned to Judge Steinbach. “I suggest we take an early dinner, then return to question Frau Rosen.”

“Dinner?” said Lutz, as if he'd never heard the word before. Hampelmann looked at him closely. As always, his collar was rumpled and his starched cuffs smudged, but his doublet no longer strained to cover his belly. His plump face had thinned, and his skin was sallow. His white hair and beard were shaggier than ever. Had he even combed them this morning?

“Two hours, gentlemen,” said Judge Steinbach. “Then return here promptly.”

As the men pulled on their hats and filed out of the chamber, Hampelmann considered foregoing dinner and returning to the Lusam Garden. He'd been there early that morning, praying for forgiveness for the sin of Onan. He hadn't intended to sin, but when he awakened that morning, the mess was already there. He'd spilled his seed uselessly. While he was praying, he heard a loud flapping of wings. He looked up, expecting to see a wood-pigeon, but saw instead a dark shadow on the stone wall, a shadow as tall as a man. The jagged outline of wings showed over both shoulders. Trembling, Hampelmann bowed his head and waited for the angel to speak, but he heard only the warbling of blackbirds. When he looked up again, the
shadow was gone. Hampelmann had waited for as long as he could, praying for the angel to return, but it did not, and by the time he'd left the garden, he was apprehensive, unsure what he'd seen.

Why would God send an angel who would not speak and deliver his message? Or had he been visited by a demon, come to tempt him in the guise of an angel? Tempt him to what?

Stepping out of the Prisoners' Tower and into the warm sunlight, Hampelmann made his decision. He would go to the garden to meditate and to wait. He would be patient and give God's messenger every opportunity to visit him again and to speak. He had nothing to fear from the Devil and his demons. He knew their tricks far too well.

Hampelmann could see the curve of breast through the thin linen shift. He forced himself to look away. Filthy and disgusting as she was, Eva was still seductive. Even her shaved skull was somehow attractive. Only a witch could manage that.

Father Streng stood before her 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?”

“I swear, by all that is holy, to tell the truth.”

“Frau Rosen,” said Judge Steinbach, reading from Father Streng's ledger, “during the previous questioning, you denied having any knowledge of Fraulein Stolzberger, Frau Imhof, and Frau Basser, even though all three confirmed they'd seen you at the sabbath.” He paused until the priest had sat down and picked up his quill.

“You denied making Herr Kaiser ill,” the judge continued in his thin reedy voice, “denied responsibility for Herr Rosen's inexplicable and untimely death. You also denied collecting
suspicious objects like rocks and feathers to use in rituals.” He looked up, the white plume on his hat bobbing. “Do you wish to reconsider any of these denials?”

“
Nein
.”

“Are you quite certain?” said Chancellor Brandt.

Eva nodded.

His mouth twisted to one side, Chancellor Brandt drummed his fingers on the table. Father Streng held the open ledger in front of the judge and the chancellor. “There's that. And that. As well as that,” said the priest, pointing at the pages and jabbing at one section, then another.

Chancellor Brandt conferred with Judge Steinbach, who then picked up the gavel, tapped it once, and read from Father Streng's ledger. “We, the members of the Commission of Inquisition for the Würzburg Court, having considered the details of the inquiry enacted by us against you, Frau Rosen, find that you have been taciturn in withholding information from us. Nevertheless, there is enough evidence to warrant examining you under torture to get that information.”

Lutz leapt up, colour rising into his sallow cheeks. “I object. Frau Rosen cannot be tortured. We have established no grounds.” He walked around the table to stand in front of the other commissioners. “The Carolina Code states that no person may be examined under torture unless sufficient evidence has first been found of the criminal act being investigated. I ask you, what evidence do we have that Frau Rosen has committed a criminal act?”

“Herr Kaiser's illness and her husband's death,” said the judge. “That's evidence.”

“But no one has established that Frau Rosen is responsible,” said Lutz, pounding a fist into his palm.

“We have certainly established a reasonable suspicion,” said Father Streng.

“Suspicion is not the same as evidence,” Lutz insisted. “And the evidence can be explained a dozen other ways than by concluding that Frau Rosen is a witch. It is a travesty of the law to engage in torture on the basis of circumstantial evidence.”

Chancellor Brandt ran his tongue over his teeth. “You are new to the commission, Herr Lutz. Does it not strike you as...premature to instruct us in what is and is not a travesty of the law?”

Lutz threw up his hands. “But Frau Rosen doesn't even have a Devil's mark.”

“Precisely,” said Freude. “The Devil had no need to mark her. She's belonged to him since birth.”

“I concur,” said Hampelmann, trying not to look at Eva's desperate face. “Her own parents named this woman Eva, Eve. That alone should tell us something about her true nature.”

“The nuns at Unterzell chose Frau Rosen to work in their convent,” said Lutz. “They kept her, educated her.
That
should tell us about her true nature. Quite obviously they did not believe she was a witch.”

Hampelmann picked up one of Father Streng's quills, dipped it into the ink, and made a note in his ledger. That was something to watch, he thought. Some of the nuns at Unterzell might be complicit in the Devil's work.

“And, no doubt, the nuns loved her like a daughter,” Lutz added.

Lindner ran a hand over his bald pate. “I have to agree with Herr Lutz in this particular case. The evidence is circumstantial.”

Hampelmann held out his ledger. “The reports to the
Malefizamt
are alarming. There is Herr Kaiser's illness as well as men who claim to have become ill after eating bread from the Rosen bakery.”

“Probably other bakers,” muttered Lutz, “who want to put the Rosen Bakery out of business.”

“And there are the accusations made by Fraulein Stolzberger, Frau Imhof, and Frau Basser?” Hampelmann said pointedly. “All three saw Frau Rosen at the sabbath.”

“But we've dismissed denunciations before,” said Lindner, “when it's obvious they were made with malicious intent.”

Lutz squared his shoulders. “And I think we all know how those accusations were secured.”

“Are you implying,” said Hampelmann, “that there is a problem in the commission's procedures?”

Lutz stood silent.

Eva's lips moved,
in nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti
.

Chancellor Brandt folded his hands and placed them on the table. “It seems we have a dilemma, gentlemen. There is serious disagreement about the veracity of the evidence in this case. We will have to question the girl.”

“Not my daughter,” Eva wailed.

“But the accusations,” said Hampelmann. “They're solid evidence.”

The chancellor shook his head. “Accusations alone do not justify torture.”

“But calling children as witnesses is not permitted,” said Lutz, “particularly when they must testify against their own parents.”

Father Streng put a finger to his twitching eyelid. “As you've already been reminded, Herr Lutz, a number of times already, witchcraft is a
crimen exceptum
. We need not adhere to strict legal procedures. And in a crime so secret as witchcraft, sometimes the only witnesses are a woman's own children. We have no choice.”

Chancellor Brandt placed an open palm over the gold medallion on his chest. “I understand your concern for the child, Herr Lutz, but these rules are not of our own making, but the rules of civil and ecclesiastical law. Father Streng is right. Frau Rosen has left us no choice. We must question the child.”

“
Nein
,” Eva moaned.

Wet, her green eyes were even more alluring. Hampelmann averted his gaze to the floor. If Eva were any kind of mother, she would speak the truth now to protect her daughter. If she chose not to, it was just more evidence against her. “Do you wish now to tell us the truth?” he said.

“I have told the truth.”

“Take her away,” said Judge Steinbach, “and bring us the girl.” Freude grabbed Eva's bound hands and yanked her toward the door. “But I must be here,” she protested, “with my daughter. She'll be terrified.”

“Not permitted,” said Father Streng. “Your mere presence will keep her from revealing anything.”

Freude pulled Eva from the chamber. Lutz returned to his place at the table and bent over his ledger, thumbing through the pages. Chancellor Brandt leaned toward him. “For your own good, Herr Lutz, I urge you to temper your zealous defence. Do not forget the words of Martin Delrio:
It is an
indicium
of witchcraft to defend witches
.”

Lutz closed the ledger with a loud snap, making Judge Steinbach jump. “I am not defending witches, sir. I believe Frau Rosen to be innocent.”

“If she is truly innocent,” said Father Streng, “she needs no defence from you. God himself will give us a sign.”

“Be careful,” Hampelmann said to Lutz. “Don't let the woman bewitch you with her beauty, nor allow yourself to be seduced into risking your own life to defend hers.”

“But all of you know that I am only carrying out the responsibilities assigned to me.”

Chancellor Brandt sniffed. “Carrying them out a bit too zealously, I would say.”

Freude returned with the girl. She crept backwards into the chamber, her whole body shaking.

“Unbind her wrists and turn her around,” Hampelmann
snapped. “She is
not
one of the accused. And why has she been shaved, Herr Freude?”

“Thought I'd save myself the trouble of doing it later.”

Chancellor Brandt's hooded eyes narrowed. “You were hired to follow Würzburg procedures, Herr Freude, not your own.”

Freude untied the girl's wrists, then, as if to justify what he'd done, he prodded her to walk across the chamber and display her pronounced limp. She nearly tripped on the baggy shift, which dragged on the floor. The girl looked fragile, as if her neck were too thin to hold up her head. Though Hampelmann had never seen her before, the line of her jaw and her slightly upturned nose were oddly familiar. When Freude stood her in front of the commissioners, Hampelmann saw that her eyebrows and eyelashes were nearly white and the stubble on her shaved head was barely visible. Her hair was as pale as his own. Such a contrast to Eva's dark chestnut hair. The girl had her mother's wicked eyes, though, green-brown flecked with gold, enormous in her small white face.

Her glance darted all around the chamber, taking in the bloody thumbscrews, which were still on the table, the ropes and pulley, and finally the commissioners themselves. She made the sign of the cross. “
In nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti
.”

Father Streng approached her with the crucifix. She shrank away from him. Lutz slid off his chair and went to stand beside her.

“By the belief that you have in God and in the expectation of paradise,” said the priest, “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?”