The Secret Healer (3 page)

“We don’t have any artemisia. I brought everything else.”

“Good. Now I need a mortar and pestle to grind up the herbs.”

“I’ll get it.” Barbara disappeared. Madlen guessed that the maid was relieved to avoid the horrific sight of her tortured mistress.

“Adelhaid,” Madlen said calmly, in the softest voice she could muster. “Your baby is dead. You know that, right?” At first, the noblewoman didn’t react at all. After Madlen stroked her belly softly, she nodded quickly.

“I’m so sorry.” Madlen was tempted to say that by viciously beating and raping his wife, Adelhaid’s husband had blotted out the life of their child before it even started. But it wasn’t the right time. Madlen fervently hoped that Adelhaid would prosecute her husband for what he had done to her and their unborn child, but deep inside, she knew it was a lost cause. Clara had seen many abused women but had never heard of their abusers facing charges for their crimes. Madlen wondered whether Barbara was also a victim of Matthias Trauenstein’s abuse. At that precise moment, the maid entered the bedchamber.

Madlen took the herbs and ground them into a pulpy mass. She rubbed the mixture on her patient’s belly, gently massaging until she felt another contraction.

“Adelhaid, your body wants to expel the child, and we have to help it or you’ll die, too.”

Adelhaid sobbed loudly. “Let the baby stay. I don’t want to live anymore. Let it stay, and we can die together.”

Barbara became wide-eyed with fright. “My lady, it’s a sin to say such things.”

“Be still,” Madlen ordered. She turned again to Adelhaid, speaking in a soft, comforting voice. “I understand. But this isn’t our decision. Your body will bleed as it expels the dead body. By that time, the pain will become unbearable; you will suffer. I’m begging you. Let me help you save your life, at least. It’s not too late.”

She tried to prepare Adelhaid for what she had to do during the next contraction. “I’m going to wash the herbs off my hands and soak them in oil so I can pull the baby out, if you’ll let me.” Adelhaid pressed her lips together. Then she nodded without saying a word. Barbara sighed in relief.

“Good.” Madlen stood in front of the bed. “Barbara, keep massaging her belly. When a contraction comes, rub even harder.”

“But I . . . ,” she said feebly.

“Do what I tell you.” Even Madlen was surprised as she heard herself bark out orders so authoritatively. Without another word, Barbara set the candle down and began to massage Adelhaid’s belly. Madlen washed up again and smeared the oil all over her hands up to her wrists.

“Barbara, when I tell you, start pressing down harder so that you can help her body expel the baby. Understand?”

“Yes.” Barbara seemed fully focused as she used her hands to massage Adelhaid’s stomach. Madlen prepared to reach into her womb. It wasn’t long before the contractions started up again. On Madlen’s signal, Barbara started to push on Adelhaid’s belly with firm downward strokes. Adelhaid bit on her pillow but couldn’t suppress her cries of agony. Madlen expected that the bedchamber’s guards would soon burst into the room to check on their mistress, but it took only four more contractions before Madlen was able to grab the limp foot of the stillborn baby and pull. Barbara gasped in relief as Adelhaid lay still, completely spent.

“She is losing too much blood. I need more linens.” Barbara ran over to one of the chests and came back with a whole stack of fresh clean linens. She wrapped the dead baby up in one, while Madlen did her best to stop the bleeding.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Adelhaid whispered.

“It’s a boy, my lady,” Barbara answered.

“I want to hold him.”

Barbara looked up at Madlen, startled. The baby was underdeveloped, his body blue and discolored. It was a terrible sight.

“Imagine him,” Madlen replied, “pink and wonderful. His eyes are closed and he’s sleeping peacefully in the bosom of the Lord. Don’t bother him, but keep this lovely picture in your mind, to remind you forever of your son.” Madlen expected Adelhaid to disagree violently and insist on holding the child at least once. But to her surprise, she didn’t.

“He’s wonderful, is that what you said?”

“That’s right. He’s the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen.”

“Then I will remember my son just like that forever.”

“You are a very wise woman.” Hopefully, wise enough to report that bastard, Matthias Trauenstein, and demand justice for what he’d done.

Adelhaid’s body relaxed a little more with each passing moment. The blood seemed to stem at the thought of her beautiful baby boy. The bleeding slowly subsided enough so that Madlen had time to prepare a special brew that would strengthen and heal the body. Soon, she stood up, totally exhausted. “She’s sleeping now. Let her rest as long as she wants to. She will need time to get her strength back, but her life is no longer in danger.”

“I thank you from the bottom of my heart. The Trauensteins will never forget what you did today, and I won’t, either.”

Madlen smiled as she washed her hands. It was just like Clara always said. In these moments, gratitude knew no bounds. Madlen was curious to see if this would last longer than a blink of an eye.

“Make sure she gets enough to drink. Her body’s been weakened by the fever and blood loss.”

“I’ll make sure.”

“Good.” Madlen turned to go home.

“Wait,” Barbara said, pointing at the stillborn child, still wrapped in towels. “What should I do with it?”

“Bring it to the sheriff and report what happened. Maybe you can save your mistress’s life before he kills her.” With that, she left for home. It was already pitch-black outside. The rain hadn’t stopped. She placed her shawl higher on her shoulders and stepped into the night.

Chapter Four

After Madlen arrived back home, she told Jerg and Kilian what had transpired, not failing to mention that Matthias Trauenstein, Adelhaid’s own husband, had caused the miscarriage. Jerg was speechless; he shook his head in disbelief. Kilian, however, cursed the nobleman. It did Madlen good to hear her brother speak against such a monster. Madlen knew very few people who willingly got involved in such matters. Kilian, however, didn’t mince words, regardless of the consequences. He didn’t have especially high expectations for his life. One day, he would take over his father’s woodshop. Day in, day out, he would build tables, benches, cabinets, and chairs. Occasionally, he would fashion a decorative stair railing for one of the noblemen’s houses. Every day would be the same as the next.

Madlen knew that Kilian would have been all too happy to take up another profession. He had always been interested in the stories of traveling tradesmen who passed through Heidelberg. When there wasn’t enough work in the woodshop, Kilian would go to the nearby tavern and take care of the guests’ horses. He would often come home with interesting stories about journeys to distant lands, his eyes aglow. He seemed especially intrigued by colorful tales of the Far East, like no other place in the world. Some years ago, one of the merchants gave Kilian a new leather book with fine blank parchment paper in thanks for nursing his favorite horse back to health. Madlen’s brother treated that book like a priceless treasure. Once, he had shown his sister his painstakingly neat drawings of oriental markets and foreign cities, which Kilian had created solely from the merchants’ descriptions. He didn’t know if they were accurate, but whenever time allowed, he’d pick up a piece of charcoal and draw in his notebook, hoping that one of these days, he’d travel to those foreign lands.

Madlen knew how much her brother was tormented by their humble, cramped living quarters. She also knew that Kilian worked in the shop for his father’s sake and bore the brunt of many tasks his father should have done. She loved Kilian with all her heart and admired him for his uncompromising integrity. She prayed with all her might that he would free himself of carpentry work and stale cottage air to take his rightful place in the world. Although she was scared about what would become of her and her father if he left, her fear that Kilian would waste his life was even greater.

“A man like that should be hung from his balls,” Kilian said, finally ending his rant about Matthias.

Madlen shrugged. “I’m afraid that won’t happen, not now, not ever. Even if he beats Adelhaid to death, one of his guards would swear up and down that she fell down the stairs when the master was out of the house.” Kilian hugged Madlen for a moment, unashamed to express his affection for his only sister.

“You must be dead tired. Are you hungry? Father and I already ate.”

“No, thank you.” Madlen freed herself from her brother’s embrace and gave him a big smile. “I just want to lie down.”

“Hey, little girl.” He lifted her chin with his finger. “You can be proud of what you accomplished today. I’m certainly proud, and I’m sure that Clara would be, too.”

She stroked him tenderly on his cheek and threw a glance over at her father. He didn’t look up once, cleaning the dirt from under his fingernails.

“Thank you.” With that, she took off her cloak and laid it on the chest before crawling into bed. She was still agitated by what had happened to the little Trauenstein baby, but fatigue’s iron grip fell over her. She wasn’t even aware of the hushed conversation between Kilian and Jerg. Only when her brother and father arose the next morning did Madlen open her eyes. She woke up refreshed, having slept more soundly than she’d slept in days. Surprisingly, what had happened at Adelhaid’s home brought an important piece of her back to life. She quickly prepared oatmeal and put the bowls on the table.

“You look much better today,” Kilian remarked.

“I feel better.” She smiled.

“What will you do now? I mean, now that Clara’s dead. You didn’t earn any money last night.” Jerg slurped down his porridge and looked at his daughter expectantly.

She bit her lip. She hadn’t thought about getting paid. “I’ll go to the Trauensteins and get my fee,” she assured him quickly. Her father nodded.

“Well, the women are used to going to Clara. Yesterday was an exception, but you’re no midwife.”

“I could try to find a job as a seamstress. You know how skilled I am.”

“With whom?”

Madlen thought about it. “Maybe Bernhard, the cloth merchant.”

“Why would he need a seamstress? He sells the cloth by the bolt.”

Madlen flushed. She had to think of something. Her father would never allow her to sit around and not contribute any money to the household.

“Don’t worry about it.” He waved her off.

Madlen looked up in surprise.

“In a week, Heinfried will be here to take you back with him anyway.”

“Thank you, Father.” Madlen stood, her head hung low.

“You don’t need to thank him,” Kilian said contemptuously. “He’s getting so much money for this marriage that he can get by very well without a single coin from you ever again.”

Jerg threw his son a reproachful look, which Kilian met steadily. Madlen couldn’t say which of them had more hate and anger in their eyes.

“I would like to see your mistress.” Madlen straightened out her dress at the door of the Trauensteins’ estate.

“She is indisposed at the moment,” the guard growled back.

“I know she is, that’s why I’m here,” Madlen shot back, which wasn’t exactly the whole truth. “I helped her in her hour of need. Surely, she’ll be glad to receive me.”

“Wait here.” He went to slam the door in her face, but paused and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Madlen.”

He closed the door and Madlen waited. When he opened it again, he waved her in. “She’s resting in her bedchamber.”

“I know the way.” She lifted her skirt and climbed the stairs, knocking lightly on Adelhaid’s door and waiting until she heard her voice.

“Greetings,” she said, stepping in.

“Madlen.” Adelhaid pointed to the edge of the bed. “Please sit down.”

“How are you?” She immediately felt Adelhaid’s forehead.

“Better.”

“I’m very happy to hear that.”

“I have you to thank for saving my life.”

Madlen cleared her throat. “How did your husband take the news of your baby’s death?” She would have preferred to use stronger words to describe the wicked man but decided to phrase her question more delicately.

“Well, he was quite dismayed, but we have not given up hope that God will bless us with a child.”

Madlen was stunned as a grateful smile played on Adelhaid’s lips. Didn’t she realize that God had already given them a child, and that Matthias had killed it? An inner voice warned her to be careful, but she couldn’t hold back. “Your husband’s violent beatings took the child!”

Adelhaid stopped her with a swift wave of her hand. “I was unlucky. I fell. There’s nothing more to say.”

Madlen lowered her shoulders in resignation. She should have known.

“Of course,” she said, forcing a smile as she stood. “I just came to check on you. I’m relieved that you feel better.” She didn’t dare ask for money.

“And I thank you for everything,” Adelhaid replied gratefully. She pointed at the chest. “Open that up and bring me the little blue velvet purse.”

Madlen walked to the chest and looked inside. She came back to the bed with the purse and gave it to Adelhaid. “I didn’t have any time to pay you before you left. Take this.” She withdrew a small pouch. “Thank you again for everything.”

Madlen curtsied politely, weighing the pouch in her hand. “This is too much.”

“No, I insist.”

Madlen nodded. “I must take my leave now. I wish you a speedy recovery.”

“Madlen, tell me before you go: Can I count on you, if I happen to be in the family way once again? I’m sure you are just as good as Clara.”

“Of course.” Madlen curtsied again and walked out of the room.

As she left the house, she inhaled deeply. She simply couldn’t understand Adelhaid. She had been beaten and raped until her baby died. And now she claimed that she wanted to get pregnant again by her abusive husband. Madlen clutched the little pouch full of money. In any case, her father would be proud of her. She went to the nearest street corner before daring to look inside the pouch. Her eyes widened in delight. This was more money than she’d earned working for Clara in six months. Her heart beat faster. Perhaps Jerg would think twice about selling her off to the old man if she could bring pouches full of money home on a regular basis. She shook her head. The idea was ridiculous. Few had as much money as this noblewoman, and Madlen was still just a young apprentice birth assistant. Only the truly desperate would hire her. Her morale deteriorated as she made her way home. In a week, Heinfried would take her away. There was no escaping her fate.

When she arrived home, Kilian was alone in the woodshop. “Where’s Father?” Madlen asked after she greeted her brother.

“In town. You must have passed him on the way.”

“But I didn’t see him at all.”

Kilian shrugged. “Then you must have missed each other.”

“Look at this, Kilian.” Madlen held the little money pouch underneath his nose. Her brother took it and weighed it in his hand before he opened it. He whistled appreciatively. “Well, would you look at that. Our little girl.”

“It’s from Adelhaid. I told her it was too much, but she insisted.”

Kilian pulled the pouch’s cord tight. “No wonder.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you understand? She is buying your silence.”

Madlen stared at the pouch. “Do you really think that?”

“Of course.” Kilian noticed the disgusted expression on his sister’s face. “Now don’t get any crazy ideas about returning the money. If she wants to give it to you, that’s her business. You would not have turned him in anyway.”

“I won’t take it.” She pushed it at her brother, but he took her by the shoulders and looked her in the eye.

“And whatever you do with it, little sister”—he took a step back and lifted his finger—“don’t make the silly mistake of giving it all to Father.”

“You mean, I shouldn’t tell him?”

“Oh sure, and he’ll want it all. But don’t give him more than twenty-five pfennigs.”

“Why not?”

“Madlen, listen to me. The spice merchant is going to put you in a beautiful house where you will want for nothing. But this money”—he pressed the pouch into her hand—“will buy you some freedom. None of his employees will keep your secrets out of kindness. If you don’t want your husband finding something out, then I advise you to hide your money and use it wisely.”

Madlen shook her head. “I never would have thought of that.”

“You have to think like this now if you want a real future.” Kilian urged, “Give me the money again.”

She handed it to him, and he pulled out some coins and laid them on the wooden table. “Show this to Father later this evening; he’ll be more than pleased with the amount”—he closed the pouch back up again—“and put the rest away so no one can find it. Understand?”

She nodded. “Thank you, Kilian.”

“Oh, my darling sister. Who will take care of you when I’m no longer by your side?”

Over the next two days, Madlen prepared everything for her upcoming journey, gathering a few personal belongings and tidying the cottage. More importantly, she had to ensure that Clara received a decent burial. There would be no Mass with a priest like she would have wanted, but at least she could be buried in the cemetery within the city walls, and not outside them, in unconsecrated ground.

Madlen took everything out of Clara’s little house she thought she might be able to use. She took the mortar and pestle as well as a few of the jars in which Clara kept her herbs. Madlen was certain that Clara would have wanted her to have them. Although she could very well have started without any of these things in her new home, she didn’t want to leave these precious items behind. These were the only mementos that she had left of Clara. Madlen could almost smell her dear friend in the jars and mortar, and it gave her a great sense of comfort. She had just sorted out some utensils when someone knocked on the door. Madlen answered and was shocked to see the two constables from the evening Clara died. Luckily, they were unaccompanied by the man who had gruffly grabbed Madlen’s arm, which caused her to drop the torch onto Clara’s dress.

“The sheriff wants to speak with you,” one said, coming right to the point.

Madlen thought about that evening when Clara died. Fear crept up her spine. “Why?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“He’ll tell you once we bring you in. Put on your cloak; let’s go.”

Madlen wanted to protest, but she was too overcome by fear. “I have to tell my brother and my father,” she answered quickly, pointing in that direction. “They’re over there in the woodshop.”

The older constable gave his colleague a sign to go on ahead. As the younger constable disappeared, Madlen screwed up all her courage. “Can you please tell me what’s going on?” Her heart pounded at the thought of Clara’s jars of herbs, now in her possession.

“It’s regarding the noblewoman, Adelhaid Trauenstein.” He said nothing more and Madlen sighed in relief. So Adelhaid had turned in that bastard of a husband. She smiled. “In that case”—she grabbed her cloak—“it’s my pleasure to accompany you.”

The constable looked a bit puzzled as Madlen stepped around him, elated. Suddenly, his colleague came back from the workshop with Jerg and Kilian in tow.

“What’s going on?” Kilian called out. “Why do you need to go with them?”

“It’s all right,” Madlen called back. “It’s about Adelhaid.” She waved good-bye as she walked away, flanked by the two constables. Finally, justice would be served.