Dancing in the Palm of His Hand (32 page)

“That is quite enough!” Chancellor Brandt glared at Hampelmann, who sank to his chair. The chancellor turned back to the midwife. “Do you confirm your confession freely?”

“If I do not...” Her words were barely audible.

Freude leaned in close. “If you recant now, or tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow, you will come again into my hands, and then you'll learn that up to now I've been only playing with you. I'll plague and torture you in such a way that even a stone would cry out.”

“Are you prepared to sign your confession, Frau Lamm?” said Judge Steinbach.

The midwife sat, her mouth working. Never had Hampelmann wished more fervently for the death of a witch. After a long silence, she spat on the floor, a glob laced with bright red blood.

Chancellor Brandt flushed. “Are you prepared to sign your confession?”

With great effort, the woman raised her head, but it fell back to her chest.

Father Streng brought the written confession and a quill toward her. He looked at her hands, then pursed his lips. “Do you authorize me to sign for you, Frau Lamm?”

Her head bobbed slightly. The priest drew a large black “X” at the bottom of the last page. Beneath it, he wrote her name in bold and elegant script.

“It is done then,” said Judge Steinbach. “His Grace willing, Frau Lilie Lamm's public trial will be Monday, the fourth of May, in the year of Our Lord 1626.” He tapped the gavel lightly on the table.

“You have five days to make your peace with God, Frau Lamm,” said Father Streng.

“A special guard should be posted outside her cell,” said Hampelmann, “so that she cannot take her own life or be killed or rescued by the Devil. She is, after all, one of his specially anointed servants, and tomorrow night is
Walpurgisnacht
. She'll want to join the other witches and the Devil in their obscene celebrations on Fraw Rengberg.”

Chancellor Brandt nodded gravely. “Agreed. You will instruct the jailer and the selected guard yourself, Herr Hampelmann. They must understand the importance of not allowing Frau Lamm to escape just punishment for her crimes.”

He turned then to the midwife. “Because you have confessed to your crimes, this commission will recommend that you be mercifully beheaded before your body is burned. Your final sacramental confession is between you and God, Frau Lamm, and I would remind you that your eternal soul hangs in the balance. I would also remind you that, if you publicly recant your signed confession to the Commission of Inquisition for the Würzburg Court, you shall be burned alive.”

The guard unlocked the tower door for Lutz, then, with a deferential nod, withdrew from the chamber. For the first time since the commission had begun meeting, Lutz had arrived early, leaving his dinner untouched and Maria clucking her tongue, her eyes filling with tears yet again.

Sitting alone at the table, Lutz tried not to inhale the ever-present odours of blood and vomit and piss. He toyed with his pomander, turning it in his palm and examining his distorted reflection in the tarnished silver. He'd been waiting only two days for the professors' recommendations, but it felt like weeks. He'd been unable to sleep. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw mutilated flesh and blood, heard the midwife's haunting screams.

Dressing that morning, he'd been surprised at the looseness of his doublet. Maria had put her soft hands to his face and wept. He'd wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her face in his neck, sobbing. When he finally released her, there were tears on his own cheeks, but he could not think for whom or what he was weeping. The midwife was guilty. She'd brought her horrible suffering upon herself. And surely Frau Rosen would be released. Were his tears for Fraulein Spatz? The old beggar woman? Or for himself, because he'd failed them so miserably?

In the flickering torchlight, the pomander reflected the dark hollows under his red-rimmed eyes. How relieved he would be when this nightmare was finally finished and he could return to his old clients with their old complaints about contracts, when he could return to a courtroom where the law was the law and there
were no
crimena excepta
. A courtroom where no one was tortured.

Lutz rubbed his stinging eyes before they could leak more tears. He'd never be finished with this. He'd never sleep peacefully again. He'd always see the blood, and hear the screams and the grinding crunch of bone. He'd always know that innocent women had suffered and died because he had failed to protect them. Lutz felt a burning pain in his chest and tasted bitterness at the back of his throat.

The door creaked open and Hampelmann came in, looking as drawn and weary as Lutz. He sat down at the table. “If there's a God in heaven,” he muttered, “they must recommend release.” He stretched out his hands, then clenched them to still their trembling.

Freude, Lindner, Father Streng, and Judge Steinbach filed slowly into the chamber. They nodded to each other, hung up their hats, then all but Freude took their places at the table, once again shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee. Freude lit a few more torches before he sat down, the light and shadow dancing eerily across the stone walls.

Finally, Chancellor Brandt arrived, a sheaf of documents tucked under his arm. The top one carried the Prince-Bishop's seal, but Lutz could not read the words. He studied the chancellor's face for a sign, but his fixed expression revealed nothing.

Judge Steinbach tapped the gavel. The men rose together, crossed themselves, and bowed their heads. Lutz hardly heard Father Streng's words, he was praying so hard himself. Please, God, please, let the decision be for release. Let me believe again that you protect the innocent.
In nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti
. The men crossed themselves and sat down.

Chancellor Brandt folded his hands and placed them on the documents. “I have before me Prince-Bishop Philipp Adolf's decision about the Commission of Inquisition's recommendations
regarding the case of Frau Lilie Lamm. He has approved our recommendations, gentlemen. Her public trial and execution will be on Monday, the fourth of May, 1626.”

He ran his tongue over his teeth. “I also have before me the recommendations from the professors of ecclesiastical and civil law at the University of Würzburg regarding the case of Frau Eva Rosen, as well as His Grace's approval of those recommendations.”

Lutz felt as if his heart would explode from his chest.

Chancellor Brandt looked toward the pulley on the ceiling. “His Grace's decision is that there is enough evidence to warrant the further questioning of Frau Rosen under torture.”

“
Nein
!” shouted Lutz. “
Nein
!”

“Moreover,” the chancellor continued, ignoring Lutz's outburst, “the professors recommend, and the Prince-Bishop concurs, that Fraulein Rosen should be questioned under torture as well.” He turned to Lutz, who sat, stunned into silence. “The recommendation was four to one against release, Herr Lutz. And His Grace has reminded us that witchcraft is high treason against God's majesty,
crimen laesae maiestatis divinae
, and not to be dealt with lightly.”

Lutz closed his eyes against Freude's lurid grin. He felt tears pushing against his eyelids. Four to one? How could that be?

“But-but I saw a sign from God,” stammered Hampelmann. “Frau Rosen is innocent.”

“If she is truly innocent,” said Father Streng, “it will be proved so under torture.”

“We cannot do this,” said Lutz, weeping openly now. “It's wrong.” He wiped the back of his hand across his cheek.

Father Streng cleared his throat. “I believe a quote from Ignatius may help us to see how we should proceed in this matter:
Look upon your superior, whoever he may be, as the representative of Christ
. And Prince-Bishop Philipp Adolf is, after all, our superior, gentlemen.” He pointed the grey quill at Lutz. “Ignatius also
wrote:
Obedience in execution consists of doing what is ordered; obedience in will consists of willing the same thing as he who gives the order; obedience in understanding consists of thinking as the superior thinks and in believing what he ordains is rightly ordained. Otherwise obedience is imperfect
. We have no choice but to obey.”

It was not the words of the Jesuit founder that flooded Lutz's brain, but the words of Johann Weyer:
So I summon you before the Great Judge, who shall decide between us, where the truth you have trampled under foot and buried shall arise and condemn you
. “We cannot do this,” he gasped. “The woman – and her daughter – are innocent. We will all be condemned to hell.”

“In that, you are quite wrong,” said Father Streng. “If I might quote the honourable Jesuit Alfonso Rodriguez in that regard:
The superior may commit fault in commanding you to do this or that, but you are certain that you commit no fault so long as you obey, because God will only ask if you have duly performed what orders you have received, and if you can give a clear account in that respect, you are absolved entirely...The moment what you did was done obediently, God wipes it out of your account, and charges it to your superior.
If what we do here is wrong, Herr Lutz, the sin will be charged to the Prince-Bishop, not to us.”

Hampelmann's face had gone from stark white to flaming red. “What then, do you make of what Ignatius wrote at the very beginning of the
Spiritual Exercises? Preserve always your liberty of mind; see that you lose it not by anyone's authority
.”

The priest sniffed. “I think Ignatius' thoughts on this matter are made perfectly clear in the thirteenth rule of the Exercises:
To make sure of being right in all things, we ought always to hold by the principle that the white that I see I would believe to be black, if the hierarchical Church were so to rule it.”

Chancellor Brandt elbowed Judge Steinbach, who quickly tapped the gavel. “Gentlemen, enough debate,” said the chancellor. “We have no choice in this matter. His Grace has given
us his decision. However, we need not act on that decision today.”

He looked up and down the table. “All of us are weary and distressed by our duties. We need a day of rest and contemplation. I suggest that we meet tomorrow morning at eight to continue the questioning of Frau Rosen and her daughter. Herr Lutz, you may inform Frau Rosen of the professors' recommendations and the Prince-Bishop's decision.”

The hell he would. Lutz couldn't bear even to think of facing Frau Rosen with this news. What could he do now? Resort to teaching Katharina how to behave as if she were possessed? Causing the possession of her own daughter would be enough to justify torturing Frau Rosen even more viciously than the midwife.

Lutz put his head in his hands. He no longer believed that God protected the innocent. What else had he ceased to believe? He'd become a heretic – a heretic without the courage to say so out loud.

Standing abruptly, he stormed from the chamber. He had to see Father Herzeim. Four to one against release! What in the world had gone wrong? Why had God failed them?

By the time he reached the university, Lutz was panting. The brief walk had done nothing to calm his outrage or his grief. He burst into Father Herzeim's office. “Four to one! How could you allow that to happen?”

The priest stared at the stoneware goblet in his hands. When he finally turned, he looked like a man condemned. “I have failed her, Lutz. Failed her. I used every argument, even Weyer's and Tanner's, and I failed to convince even one of them. I succeeded only in making them more suspicious of me.” He raised the goblet to his lips and gulped. “I am quite certain they will report me to the
Malefizamt
.”

“The
Malefizamt
!” Lutz placed his hands on the desk and
peered into Father Herzeim's haggard face. The priest reeked of wine. “Dear God, what can we do?” said Lutz.

“Free her.” His dark eyes sparked with an odd light.

Lutz backed away. “Her? Father, I was talking about you.”

“I have a plan. It's not a good one, but–”

“A plan?”

“If I can just get Frau Rosen and her daughter to Nuremberg, they will be safe. My family will take them in.”

“Nuremberg?”

“It's a free city. Ruled by a town council, not a prince-bishop. They stopped killing witches years ago. They'll refuse to send her back to Würzburg.”

Free Frau Rosen? Impossible. Lutz brought his pomander to his nose and inhaled deeply to clear his head. “But you'll be arrested.”

“I will be arrested no matter what I do...or fail to do.” Father Herzeim picked up the empty goblet and rolled it between his hands. “Would that I could free Frau Lamm as well.”

“
Nein
,” shouted Lutz. “Not the midwife.”

“
Nein
, not the midwife,” Father Herzeim echoed wearily. “She would never survive the journey.”

Lowering himself to the chair opposite the desk, Lutz felt again the painful burning in his chest. “What is this plan?” he asked.

Father Herzeim filled the goblet from a decanter on his desk. “Wine?”

“
Nein
,” Lutz said firmly. “I want to hear about this plan.”

The priest licked his lips. “Well,” he said finally, “I'll go to Frau Rosen late tonight, just before dawn. The guards will always admit the final confessor, no matter what the hour. A few of the commissioners already suspect that Katharina might be possessed, so I'll teach her how to behave as if she really is. I'll show her how to scream and howl, how to contort her body and speak in
tongues. Then I'll arrange myself as if she's thrown me against the wall. When the guard comes running, someone will come from behind the door, strike him on the head, and knock him out. With any luck – or by God's grace – the guard will believe that Katharina's demons attacked him.”