Dancing in the Palm of His Hand (28 page)

“But Fraulein Spatz had already confessed,” said Lutz. “I was there when she made her confession to Father Herzeim.”

Father Streng held up a hand, palm toward Lutz. “She should not have confessed while you were there, and you cannot reveal what she said. But if Fraulein Spatz has confessed and been reconciled with God, then the commission has done its work well. We have saved her eternal soul.”

“But then why would the Devil kill her?” said Lutz, his jaw clenched.

“So she couldn't reveal anything more to us,” said Chancellor Brandt. “A pity. It really is. Now we have only Frau Lamm, who is entirely uncooperative, and Frau Rosen, whose case is weak.”

“And the Rosen girl,” added Freude.

“She has
not
been accused,” said Lutz.

Father Streng polished his spectacles on the sleeve of his cassock. “What do we do about the Rosen girl?”

The Rosen girl
. Hampelmann had been obsessed with her since the questioning three days ago when he first noticed her striking resemblance to his own daughter. He'd noted Katharina's date of birth, quickly calculated backwards, and realized that, unless one took as truth Eva's dubious claim that Katharina was born early, Eva had been working in the Hampelmann household when she conceived, at least two months shy of her betrothal to Jacob Rosen. Hampelmann thought he was prepared when he went to her cell; even so, he was shocked by what he heard from Eva's own
lips. He fell into a blackness then that no amount of St. John's wort or hellebore could relieve. For two days and three long nights, he couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't even clear his mind for meditation and prayer in the Lusam Garden. He was hardly surprised the angel didn't return, not when he could think of nothing but Eva. And his father. And the product of their sin. The girl was of his own blood. Noble blood corrupted by witch's blood. A cripple. He bore no responsibility, but still, he felt ashamed, as if the sin were his own.

A hand closed on his arm. He looked from the pale hand to Father Streng's perplexed face, then down to the pile of paper fragments before him, the remains of a page from his ledger Hampelmann's fingers had just shredded.

“The girl is possessed,” said Freude. “And her mother is responsible.”

Lindner sat, clicking his thumbnail against his front teeth. “Possession is nearly always evident from its outward signs: voices, flailing, contortions,” the physician said thoughtfully. “The Rosen girl seems more dim-witted and confused than possessed. I recommend that we proceed to the questioning of Frau Rosen under torture. The girl's testimony has provided enough evidence for that at least.”

“
Nein
!” shouted Lutz. “There is no evidence. If the girl is dim-witted, her testimony should be discarded.”

“Not in cases of witchcraft,” said Father Streng.

“I concur,” said Chancellor Brandt. “What do you think, Herr Hampelmann?”

Hampelmann rubbed his gritty eyes and tried to recall what had just been said. “I-I'm not sure. Are you asking about the girl's possession or discarding her testimony? Or the questioning of Frau Rosen?”

“Not sure?” The chancellor gave Hampelmann a withering scowl, then pointed at the judge's gavel.

“Herr Freude,” said Judge Steinbach, “bring in Frau Rosen.”

Lutz released a long exhalation that whistled through his teeth.

Father Streng turned to Hampelmann. “What is wrong with you? Are you ill?”

“It's nothing. A mild griping of the bowels. I slept poorly.” Hampelmann cupped his pomander in his palm, examined the gold filigree, then brought it to his nose. Lavender and hellebore, always lavender and hellebore. He should have put in hartshorn, something to clear his head of the fog. He needed to prepare himself for Eva's questioning. He ground his teeth. How could she have chosen his father over him? How could she have led such a good and pious man into sin? Claiming he'd forced her was ludicrous. His father, the righteous and upstanding Herr Doktor Hampelmann, forcing a maidservant? Impossible. Hampelmann stared at his gold ring, the family crest. He polished it on the sleeve of his silk doublet. But at the very least his father had allowed himself to be seduced. By a witch! Had his father confessed to his lust before he died? Or was he writhing in hell at this very moment?

Freude returned with Eva, who stepped backwards into the chamber, a rusty-brown stain on the back of her shift. The executioner prodded her, and she turned to face the commissioners. Looking directly at Hampelmann, her green eyes held a desperate plea. He seethed. How dare she appear before them as if she were weak and helpless?

Father Streng came 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?”

“I swear, by all that is holy.”

The priest noticed the drops of dark blood between Eva's bare
feet and scrambled backwards. “The filth of women,” he muttered, taking his seat at the table.

“Frau Rosen,” said Judge Steinbach. His voice quavered. “In your previous questioning, you persisted in denying all the charges against you – killing your husband, making Herr Kaiser ill, attending the sabbath. Do you wish to reconsider those denials?”

“
Nein
, I do not.”

“Are you quite sure?” said Chancellor Brandt. “Because your own daughter claims that you have, indeed, met with the Devil.”

“But Katharina believes that Herr Freude is the Devil,” said Lutz, “so it is not accurate to say that Fraulein Rosen testified that her mother met with the real Devil.”

Chancellor Brandt ignored Lutz's protest. “Look around you, Frau Rosen, at the tools we can use to extract the truth. I ask again, are you quite certain that you wish to deny all the accusations against you? Or do you wish to confess now – and spare yourself?”

Hampelmann twisted his ring. His palms were damp.

Eva looked at the thumbscrews, which had been cleaned and polished since they'd been used on Fraulein Spatz and Frau Lamm. “I am innocent, and by the grace of God, my innocence will be proved.”

“Very well then.” Judge Steinbach banged the gavel, its ring reverberating through Hampelmann's aching head. “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. After questioning Fraulein Katharina Rosen, there is now enough evidence to warrant examining you under torture. You may proceed, Father Streng, Herr Freude.”

Lutz laid his head on the table and groaned.

Herr Freude prodded Eva toward the chair. Careful to avoid defilement by the blood on the floor, Father Streng stepped forward and made the sign of the cross over Eva and the thumbscrews, then sprinkled holy water over both. “
In nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti
.” He returned to the table and picked up his quill.

Freude grabbed Eva's bound hands and placed her thumbs under the metal plate. He tightened the centre screw just enough to hold them in place. Her lips trembled, but Eva did not pull away or try to resist.

“Do you wish to confess now, before I begin?” Freude growled.

“I have nothing to confess.”

The executioner turned the centre screw. Eva cried out, and Hampelmann nearly screamed with her, so great was the shooting pain in his own thumbs. His fingers curled tightly around them. He forced himself to straighten his fingers and look at his thumbs. They were undamaged.

“When and where did you first meet with the Devil?” said Father Streng.

“Never,” she wailed.

Herr Freude gave the screw another turn. Hampelmann heard the sickening crunch. Blood trickled onto the instrument. Pain shot from Hampelmann's thumbs to his forearms. Dear God, what was happening?

“When and where did you meet with the Devil?” repeated Father Streng.

“
Nein
,” she whispered.

Herr Freude gave the screw yet another turn, and Eva's head fell backward. Though she held her lips tightly together, an animal cry escaped.

Hampelmann couldn't draw breath. The pain was unbearable. He'd watched this procedure dozens of times and never felt this.
He saw blood gathering under his thumbnails. Horrified, he put his hands under the table.

“When and where have you met with the Devil?” repeated Father Streng, his voice rising.

Eva lifted her head. “
The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away. As it hath pleased the Lord so is it done. Blessed be the name of the Lord
.”

The priest leaped up. “She dares quote to us from Job!” Behind his spectacles, his grey eyes were enormous. Freude forced Eva's jaws open, and Father Streng poured holy water into her mouth. Eva sputtered and choked.

“Surely that will free her from the Devil's grasp,” said Father Streng. “Proceed, Herr Freude.”

“
I will say to God, Do not condemn me
.
Tell me why thou judgest me so
.” Eva's voice was barely audible. “
And shouldst know that I have done no wicked thing
.”

Hampelmann blinked, then blinked again at the strands of thin white mist her words had woven around her. Job's lament. Without thinking, he completed the lament, murmuring to himself, “
Thy hands have made me, and fashioned me wholly round about, and dost thou thus cast me down headlong
?”

Lutz opened and closed his fists. Hampelmann saw blood oozing from his thumbnails as well. He glanced at Judge Steinbach's hands, which lay folded upon the gavel. Blood pooled beneath them.

Eva looked at Hampelmann, her eyes wide and distant. “
Thou hatest all the workers of iniquity. Thou wilt destroy all that speak a lie.” Her head sank to her chest. “Deliver me from my enemies.”

Agitated, Father Streng danced around the chamber, pointing at Eva. “The witch now dares to quote from Psalms?”

A loud chuckling erupted from the shadows. Hampelmann saw a tall dark man with glowing red eyes and a broad grin. His exposed member was huge and erect, and he shoved his hips
forward obscenely. Staring at Hampelmann, he raised his arm and crooked his long bony finger, beckoning.

Hexen gestank
. Hampelmann nearly choked on the stench. Though the pain in his thumbs was excruciating, he laid one shaking hand on Father Streng's breviary and, with the other, touched the ball of wax at his throat. “
In nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti
,” he whispered.

Eva raised her head and fixed her gaze upon the man. His arm dropped, his grin became a grimace, and his member withered. He began to fade, until all that was left was a wisp of black smoke smelling faintly of witches' stench.

Hampelmann gasped and turned to Chancellor Brandt, but his face was impassive. Did he not see that? Hampelmann spread his hands. The pain had subsided. There was no blood under his nails, no blood on the table. Was this the message the angel in the Lusam Garden had come to deliver? A sign from God that Eva was innocent? But the other men were so calm. Had no one else seen Eva save them?

“When did you meet with the Devil?” said Father Streng.

“
Nein
,” Eva sobbed. Her head rested on one shoulder. “It would be a sin...to confess...to something I did not do. I would rather die here...than die to eternal life.”

“Proceed!” The priest's voice was shrill.

Freude shook his head. “I cannot tighten the screw any more.”

Lutz stood. “It is done then! She has withstood the test. She has shown herself to be innocent.”

“We must proceed further,” insisted Father Streng.

“
Nein
!” shouted Lutz.

“But the Devil is helping her. We must continue.”

Judge Steinbach feebly tapped the gavel. “Order! Order!” Hampelmann stood, swaying. He leaned against the table. “It is not the Devil who is helping her. It is God. Frau Eva Rosen is innocent.”

He cannot admit, even to himself, that he desires the woman, has always desired her. So the man with the pale hair conjures me to give him a sign. I chuckle out loud. Me? Bring a sign from God?

He has been taught that I am a dark man, so he sees darkness and black smoke. It is the little girl who told him that my eyes are red and glowing.

His lust has almost destroyed the woman. Now it may save her. Lucky woman.

The midwife is not so lucky. No one will conjure a sign for her. She stands, shoulders slumped, arms hanging limp, wrists bound.

The little priest prays and sprinkles holy water. He is red-faced, and stinks of sweat and fear.

They ask their questions. Always the same: when and where did she meet with the Devil? How and when and in what positions did she fuck me? (Though they are always careful to say ‘fornicate' or ‘sexual intercourse.') They are sure my cock (they say ‘member') is huge and cold, but desirable to spinsters and widows nonetheless.

She curses them. Sons of whores. Sodomites. Fuckers of sheep and goats. And little boys.

The men flinch. Some of them have never heard such words from the mouth of a woman.

The executioner prods the midwife to the floor. He pours water into her mouth, then forces a wet rag down her throat. The rag is attached to a hemp cord. He yanks the cord and pulls the rag from her gullet. There is blood.

The fat lawyer, who is not so fat anymore, covers his face with his hands
.

They repeat their questions. She is silent, except for her choking moans.

The executioner grits his teeth, furious with the silence that defies him. He forces the rag down her throat again. More questions. The midwife gags on the cord, but does not answer. The rag comes up. More blood.