The Secret Healer (12 page)

“Maria, Roswitha? Is that you down there?”

“I’m here,” she shouted upstairs. “I’m coming right up.” She barely had enough strength to drag herself up the stairs, but she had to tell her aunt the truth. Hopefully, she would not be too cross. She entered hesitantly. Agathe sat in bed, working on a dress draped over her legs. She looked up and stretched out her hand as Madlen entered.

“There you are. Where were you for so long?”

Madlen cleared her throat. “I was with Roswitha at Sander’s house.” Madlen waited for a scolding, but Agathe only smiled sweetly.

“That’s what I thought. How is he?”

“You’re not angry?”

“Come, sit next to me.” Agathe tapped on the bed and waited until Madlen sat down next to her. “Why should I be angry at you? It’s simply your nature to help others. Naturally, I would like you to listen to me and be more cautious, but I understand.”

“I thank you so much.” Madlen was relieved, although the look on Roswitha’s face popped back into focus. “But it would have been better if I had listened to you.”

Agathe looked at her seriously. “What happened?”

Madlen described the whole scene to Agathe as accurately as possible. “I discovered this method quite accidentally when I attended my first birth,” Madlen said.

“And do you use it often?”

Madlen shrugged. “Only when I think it might help.”

“You didn’t try it on me when I lay devastated by coughing spasms.”

Madlen smiled. “You were calm and responding well to the treatments.”

“I understand.”

Madlen hesitated. “Do you think that I should explain what I was doing more clearly to Roswitha?”

“Only if she asks. If I were in your place, I would treat it as a normal part of the process.”

“It is for me.”

Agathe smiled. “For you, yes. But you wouldn’t have told me about it if the look on Roswitha’s face didn’t alarm you.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

Agathe grabbed Madlen’s hand. “Don’t worry about it too much. When Sander is cured, it will be clear to Roswitha that you were the only one who could have saved her sweetheart’s life. Nothing more and nothing less.”

“I hope so.” Madlen sighed. “Well, let’s not talk about it anymore. How are you?”

“I’m wonderful. I haven’t had this much strength in many weeks.”

“I’m so glad.” Madlen bent over and laid her ear on Agathe’s breast. She heard only calm, even breathing, nothing that caused concern.

“And what is the healer’s prognosis?” Agathe asked, as Madlen stood.

“I’m really quite satisfied,” Madlen said, looking at her seriously. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll allow you to get out of bed.”

Roswitha didn’t come home that night nor by noon the next day. Though Madlen was very worried, she hesitated to return to Sander’s house. On the other hand, she feared that Roswitha might herself be at the mercy of the infection.

“Since Roswitha isn’t here, I’ll need to go to the market myself,” Agathe said. “Will you accompany me?”

“Do you really want to go out again so soon? I can go alone.”

“No, my darling. I’m completely healthy again; I feel fine. It’s time to go back to work and I need some new goods.”

“Fine, I will go with you.”

An hour later, as they went past the market stalls, Madlen’s mind drifted elsewhere. She thought about Roswitha and how she only had Mechthild’s help to fight for the life of her beloved. Did this shy young woman know enough? Could she make the necessary assessments for a successful treatment? Madlen made a decision.

“Agathe, would you be too upset if . . .”

“If you went to Sander’s house? Of course not.”

There was much that Madlen wanted to say, but she settled on just one thank-you. She gave her aunt a quick peck on the cheek and ran off to Sander’s house.

She knocked and waited. Nothing. She knocked again, at first just once, then again and again. Finally, she turned the doorknob and walked in.

“Roswitha? Mechthild?”

She heard Sander coughing in the adjoining room. She quickly walked over to the room and stepped in. She saw Roswitha, her eyes filled with tears, as she held Sander, newly racked with coughing spasms. “I’ll take him!” She grabbed Sander under his arms and pulled him upright with a jolt. Again and again, she jostled him up and down. “Get some water,” she ordered Roswitha. She trembled all over, uncertain whether to leave Sander’s side. “Come on!” Madlen snapped, and immediately Roswitha ran out. A moment later, she was back.

“When I lift him up again, you need to pour water down his throat.” Madlen strained to pick Sander up and signaled to Roswitha. She put the cup to his lips; some of the water ran down Sander’s throat, the rest ran down the corners of his mouth. “Again!” Madlen ordered and Roswitha obeyed. They both kept trying until the cup was empty, then Roswitha went out and filled it back up again. When she returned, Sander looked a lot better lying down again on the bed. Although he still coughed, he sounded like he was getting air again on his own. Trembling violently, Roswitha looked at Madlen and sobbed. “I thought he died.”

“He wasn’t far from it. What happened?”

“I fell asleep,” Roswitha said tearfully.

“Where is Mechthild?”

“She had to go to work.”

“Why didn’t you send her to me? I would have come.”

Roswitha burst into tears. “I wanted to, but Mechthild said that there wasn’t anything more you could do. And I didn’t want to leave him alone.”

“I’m so sorry, Roswitha. I should have come sooner. But I thought . . .” She stopped in midsentence. She had to remain level-headed.

“How much frankincense is left?”

“It’s all gone.” Roswitha sobbed again. Madlen laid her hand on Sander’s chest. His whole body shook from within. If she wanted to do something for him, she had to do it fast. She pulled her hand back, approached Roswitha, and held her shoulders.

“You have to go and pick up more frankincense. Do you still have enough of the herbs that I gathered?”

“Yes, but I couldn’t prepare a fresh compress because I had to stay by his side. Is he going to die because of me?”

“Just go pick up some frankincense; run as fast as you can. I’ll take care of everything else.”

Roswitha hesitated, glancing at Sander. Madlen guessed what she was thinking. “He’ll live if you come back quickly. Today is not the day that we let anybody die.”

Roswitha nodded, turned on her heels, and fled the house. She didn’t even put on her cloak.

Chapter Fifteen

It was four full days before Madlen left Sander’s house next. In that time, she thought more than once that death would win the day. Sander’s coughing spasms were far worse than Agathe’s had been. Madlen learned a lot about how the illness ran its course. She wasn’t certain whether the cough wasn’t only one symptom of a broader illness people had contracted. By chance, she found that the herb vervain helped the body drain and drew out fluid, an excess of which prevented the patient from breathing. Every time he sat on the bucket, Sander’s body seemed to release more and more of the sickness tormenting his body. As he coughed up phlegm, the rattling in his chest lessened until it was barely audible. After her last examination, Madlen could finally tell Roswitha that he was out of danger. Still, he had to stay in bed for at least two more days, for his body to recover completely.

She returned to Agathe’s house exhausted but happy. Roswitha had gone back and forth to keep her current on Sander’s condition.

“Agathe? I’m home.”

Aunt Agathe walked out of the kitchen into the hall. “Thank the Lord!” She went to Madlen and hugged her warmly for several minutes. She pulled away when she heard a knock on the door.

“Wait here.” Agathe went to open it. “My God, Otilia, what’s happened?” She let the sobbing visitor in, tears streaming down the woman’s face.

“Is she here?” Otilia looked past Agathe.

“What?”

“Is that the healer?”

“Please, whom do you speak of?” Agathe tried to keep her voice even as her heart beat nervously against her chest. How did Otilia know that Madlen might be the healer?

Otilia shoved past Agathe and went directly to Madlen. As soon as she reached her, she fell to her knees and grabbed Madlen’s hand. “Please, Maria, if that’s your name, please help me. It’s my daughter. She has the cough. You have to help her.” She stayed on her knees and twisted toward Agathe. “Please, Agathe, I’m begging you. We’ve known each other for so long. You know that my Reni is a good girl. She’s never hurt anybody. And now she’s sick, so sick.” She turned again to Madlen. “Please, help me. I’ll give you everything that I have.”

Madlen was embarrassed to see this strange woman kneel in front of her. What should she do?

“Please, Otilia. Get up.” Agathe helped the visitor stand. Only with another nudge did she let go of Madlen’s hands. “Come, Otilia. Please sit down and tell us what’s happening.”

“Please,” she pleaded again. “There’s no time. She’s going to die, Agathe. My Reni is going to die.”

Agathe struggled to keep her composure. “How did you hear that we could help you?”

“Mechthild. She said that her brother also had the cough. And now he’s healed.” She pointed at Madlen. “She healed him.”

Madlen didn’t know what to say, staring at her aunt helplessly.

“She’s not a healer, Otilia. She . . .” She was at a loss for words.

“Please, Agathe,” Otilia begged. “What have I done to you? Why would you let my Reni die?”

Agathe made up her mind. “Does anybody know about this?”

“No, only me.” Otilia looked beseechingly between the two women. “Now I understand. You’re afraid. You’re afraid because the doctor can’t help but she can.” Otilia pointed at Madlen again. “You’re afraid of the consequences if somebody accuses her of miracle healing.”

“There’s no such thing as miracle healing,” Madlen clarified. “It’s the herbs, just the herbs, nothing more.”

“Then will you help her?” Otilia’s voice sounded hopeful. “I promise you, I swear that I’ll tell no one. I’d rather die. I beg you. Please help my Reni. She’s all that I have.”

A quick glance between Agathe and Madlen was enough. “I’ll go fetch my herbs,” Madlen said. “I need frankincense, though. Send your maid to Mechthild’s brother. Roswitha will be there. She can bring the rest of the herbs; they should help.”

Otilia nodded. “I thank you so much!”

“I don’t know whether I can save your daughter,” Madlen said, trying to prepare her for the worst. “But I’ll do everything I can.”

Otilia’s eyes welled up with tears again. Agathe went to her chest and took out her cloak. “I’ll come with you. Two sets of helping hands are better than one.”

Neither Madlen nor Agathe could say how the news spread through all of Worms. But wherever a cough occurred, cries were raised on high for the healer. Although no one knew where she came from, who she was, or where she lived, someone knew someone else who could contact the mysterious woman. Madlen never got more than a few hours of sleep, and Agathe tried to throw them off track with false addresses. Madlen couldn’t save all the sick people, there were just too many. And she had to be careful not to reveal her identity; she didn’t want to risk being discovered. Agathe had heard rumors that a physician paid two men to discover the healer’s identity. So far, Agathe could rely on the secrecy of those Madlen had saved. For her own protection, Madlen began to wear a mask when she visited the sick. Not only did it keep her from getting infected—though she seemed to be immune—no one could see her face, thus protecting her from being recognized. Agathe even kept away completely, continuing to lead her life as normally as possible. She convinced Madlen, despite her heavy work schedule, to accompany her to the market or to customers to give the impression that she was nothing more than the daughter of Agathe’s good friend, who helped her produce fine dresses. But she didn’t delude herself. The rumors that there was a woman who could cure the cough that had plagued many towns and killed hundreds of people spread far beyond the borders of Worms. Time and again, people came with their patients in ox-drawn carts, seeking the healer, their last and only hope. The never-ending city wars and accompanying unrest kept the local governments from having enough time to take care of the problem. As soon as the Rhine alliance became victorious, independence would cause Worms, just like other Rhine cities, to finally answer to the king and gain freedom for the realm. There would be a city tour. Certainly, the top city leaders wouldn’t risk Worms’s reputation and endanger commercial transactions with rumors of an alleged healer. One way or another, powerful men would want to ensure that Madlen was snuffed out.

She also worried about something she had learned accidentally two days before. It was only a rumor, but her experience proved there was usually some truth to them. Disturbed by the idea of miraculous cures, the Church sat up and took note of the healer. In recent years, the Church had given up more and more power to the princes. It was said that Pope Urban VI had become increasingly upset about the Church’s dwindling power. The city wars only fortified the political power of kings and princes, angering him even more. The local bishops knew all too well that the Church had begun to lose its lambs. So the Pope carefully calculated a plan to endorse the establishment of more universities. At least this way, he could have a voice demonstrating his benevolence as well as emphasizing the deeper meaning of the Church’s religious tenets. Since the cough was quickly becoming an epidemic, it could very well be the spark that ignited a wildfire. However, the Church seemed bent on manipulating these events for its own purposes.

Agathe noticed men who asked too many questions had been surfacing in Worms lately. Initially, she figured that these minions acted on behalf of the doctor, but they acted so conspicuously that everyone seemed to know to remain silent. Worms’s doctor had lost significant prestige. The prevailing opinion was that he didn’t know his trade. As such, citizens stubbornly insisted on finding out more about the healer, who had saved the lives of so many people. The physician, in contrast, bled his patients, then sat back and watched them die. But now a new threat loomed over Madlen, one significantly more alarming than the quack’s spies. Apparently, there was a man in town hired by the Church to scope out the possible existence of a healer. Agathe tried to learn more, but no one seemed to have more information about this man’s identity. The only thing that Agathe could find out was that he was a high-ranking citizen and a confidant of the archbishop of Trier.

“It’s too dangerous,” Agathe warned. She sat down with the completely exhausted Madlen, who listlessly shoved some bread and cold roast beef into her mouth.

Madlen took a sip of spiced wine to wash down her meal. “You’re right. I can’t fight this anymore. It’s simply too much.”

“Everyone in town is talking about you, and who knows who else. It’s only a matter of time before someone discovers you. The people only protect you because they still expect you to help them. What if you cure them and then these same people need money? What would keep them from turning you in?”

“Do you really think that someone could do that to me?” Madlen shook her head helplessly. “And I’m careful. I only come when they themselves have purchased the exact herbs we’ll need from the spice merchant. And nobody knows exactly when I’m coming. I never promise anyone anything.”

“Except for Mechthild and Otilia. They know who you are.”

“I saved Mechthild’s brother and Otilia’s daughter. You don’t really think they’d tell anybody?”

Agathe shrugged. “Life has taught me that most people are capable of anything given the right circumstances. Maybe they’ll be thankful until the day they die, maybe not. No one can say for sure.”

“So what should I do?”

Agathe scrutinized her niece. In the last few weeks, she’d gotten very little sleep, sometimes none over a period of two or three days. She was pale and had dark circles under her eyes. It was obvious that she would soon collapse from exhaustion. “From today forward, you will not treat anyone else,” Agathe said firmly.

“What?”

“You heard me. I’ll spread a rumor that a young woman fled on a ship leaving Worms in the middle of the night.”

“And you think people will believe that?”

“People always believe what seems to be the most likely story. A young woman sneaks onto a ship in the middle of the night. She didn’t want to be found, but somebody saw her. From that moment on, the secret healer will never be heard from again. Not even her patients will hear from her again.”

“But if I don’t treat them, many will not make it,” Madlen protested.

“Then they will die.” Agathe nodded. “There will never be a right time for you to stop. You said it yourself: there are too many, and there are more every day. No matter how much you try, you can’t save them all. But if you don’t stop, they will find you. There are many people trying to track you down; each passing day increases your risk.”

Madlen stuck a piece of meat in her mouth and chewed. She saw the faces of the people she had helped. If she stopped, many would not escape the disease with their lives.

“It’s the only way,” Agathe stated emphatically.

“You’re right,” Madlen finally said. “I don’t want to run away from here to escape punishment.” She lowered her eyes. “Although I haven’t done anything wrong. It’s our leaders who are in the wrong.”

“Of course,” Agathe agreed. “But they have the power, not us.” She put her hand on Madlen’s. “When you’ve finished eating, go right to sleep. Early tomorrow morning, you’ll wake after a good night’s rest, and your only task will be to help me sew. Can we agree?”

It hit Madlen hard, but she knew it was the right thing to do. “Yes, Agathe. I promise. It means a death sentence for some, and their glassy eyes will haunt me for a long time, but I feel relieved. I can sleep. Sleep and take care of everyday things. As terrible as it sounds, I’m glad this burden has been taken off my shoulders.”

“Don’t forget about all the people you’ve already helped. Enough for an entire lifetime.”

Madlen turned her cup in her hands. “Have you ever wished for a different life?”

“What do you mean?”

“Something other than being a seamstress?”

Agathe smirked. “Once, yes. At that time, I was helping Reinhard with his fishing.”

“You fished?”

“Sometimes. More often, it was simply a matter of carrying boxes, selling at the market, mending nets, and scrubbing boats.” She smiled at the memory. “Reinhard was a good man, but when he died I sold everything and started a new life. I switched to the seamstresses’ guild; there were too few in Worms. With the proceeds from the boat and fishing equipment, I bought cloth and sewed my first dress. At first, I had only two dresses for sale at market, but eventually word spread.” She opened her arms wide. “Once I’d built up a base of clients, I had enough to afford this house.” She didn’t mention the rich patron who had given her enough money for a license. She had done a lot more for it than just sewing clothes. But she was embarrassed today by what she had done to achieve her dream of being a seamstress. When Gerald, as he was called, had died a year earlier, he’d willed her a considerable fortune so that she could live a carefree life.

“I thought you inherited this house from Reinhard after his death.”

Agathe smiled, and Madlen could see a bit of pride sparkle in her eyes. “No, my darling, I earned this house. Actually, I live very well as a dressmaker. Now to get back to your question: yes, there were times in the distant past when I wished I led a different life, and I got my wish; it’s the life I lead today.”

Madlen nodded. Her aunt had pulled herself up on her own, and doing what she loved. Could there be a better existence? “Have you ever thought about marrying again?”

Agathe shook her head. “Sometimes, when I was alone, the thought did occur to me that it might be nice to have a man by my side again.”

“But you haven’t found anyone?”

“Well, let’s just say I haven’t found one that I liked well enough. You know, a woman is considered helpless without a man. At least, that’s what people say. Well, I was able to take care of myself and live the way I wanted. Why should I give all that up just to be with a man?” She shook her head again. “No, it’s not for me.” She searched Madlen’s eyes. “But you wouldn’t have asked me this if there weren’t something else that you longed for. What is it? Can you tell me?”

Madlen hesitated and let out a loud sigh. “I know it will never happen.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a woman. I’m only a maiden, but I would love nothing better than to learn to read and write.” She stopped.