The Secret Healer (6 page)

“He’s a doctor,” Matthias admitted.

“Can you repeat that, please?”

It was obvious the nobleman was seething. “He’s a doctor,” he repeated.

“The man is a doctor.” He looked at the full courtroom. “And now, please tell me, why was this man at your house?”

“He’s a friend.”

“Really?”

“Yes, of course.”

“So, you’re saying that this man never treated your wife.”

“Yes. That’s correct.”

“So far as has been reported to me, he visited your home quite frequently, your friend the doctor.”

“Yes. My friends come by often.”

Thoughtfully, Andreas placed his finger on his lips. “Would it be fair to call this man, this physician, a very good friend?”

Matthias smiled arrogantly. “Yes. In fact, he’s my best friend.” He looked into the crowd to make sure his words did not miss their mark.

“Oh, that’s so wonderful,” gushed the advocate. “I treasure such warm friendships.” He peered at Matthias. “What are the names of Hyronimus Auerbach’s daughters?”

“What?”

“His daughters. The daughters of your good—excuse me—your very best friend. What are their names, and how old are they?”

Matthias Trauenstein’s face turned red. “I . . . I . . .” He snorted. “I haven’t seen them in a long time. I’m not very good at remembering names.”

“Not even one of his three daughters?” He waited. “No? What a shame. Then at least tell me how old they are. Are they pretty?”

Matthias balled up his hand into a fist. “They’re not girls anymore; they’re grown women. And yes, all three are very pretty.”

Andreas von Balge shot him an icy smile. “Shall I fetch the good doctor?”

“As far as I know, he’s not in town,” Matthias said, slightly more confident.

“You are correct.” The advocate paused thoughtfully and turned to the audience. “He is, in fact, with his offspring on a pilgrimage. His two sons, to be exact.”

“That proves nothing!” Matthias Trauenstein jumped up and knocked over his chair.

“Please, my lord,” the sheriff snapped. “You wanted this trial. Kindly take your place.”

The nobleman hesitated, then picked up the chair and sat back down. Andreas shot him a dangerous smile. “Oh, yes,” he continued. “It proves to the court that you are an unrepentant liar, my lord. Therefore, any intelligent person must question every single word that comes out of your mouth.” His smile grew broader. “Frankly, I’m quite curious as to what else might come up upon closer inspection.” With that, he turned and went back to the defendant’s table, Matthias’s angry gaze aimed at his back.

Chapter Eight

By noon, Andreas von Balge had disproved every single word of Matthias Trauenstein’s allegations. Madlen was very satisfied with his work as she accompanied him to lunch at the inn across the street from the town hall for the scheduled two-hour break. Exhausted, she let herself fall onto the bench while Andreas ordered. “We’ll need your strength when we go back to the courtroom.”

“But I—” Madlen began to protest.

“Don’t worry. This meal’s on me. You’ve already paid me well.”

“Thank you.”

“This afternoon will be more difficult once the maid makes her statement. I hope that she says exactly what Matthias Trauenstein tried to make the court swallow earlier. No one will believe a word of it.”

The host came to the table with two tankards of beer and a platter of ham, bread, and lard. “Here, my good people. On the house.”

“Why?” Madlen asked. She was puzzled.

The man’s beer belly hung low as he stood with his legs apart. “I was in the courtroom and came back here shortly before you arrived.” He raised his index finger in warning. “In my opinion, this nobleman’s allegations against you are evil, my child. Trauenstein should be careful he doesn’t take an evening walk around the dark streets of Heidelberg, or he’ll be the one in need of a doctor. Now, enjoy your meal.” He turned and went into an adjoining room.

Andreas held up his tankard, pressed it to his lips, and took a nice, long slug. “In the blink of an eye, you’ll be back in your cottage, leading a carefree life.”

Madlen tried to smile. The advocate was probably right, but though he was confident, she still had her doubts. It was almost too easy. She ate a bit of ham and bread silently and only took a tiny sip of beer before the advocate chugged down the rest of her brew.

“Thank you, sir,” Andreas called out as they took their leave.

The host opened the door. “My pleasure, my lord. Now go show this nobleman that he can’t shove us around anytime he wants. I hope they hang him.”

“Why do you say that?” Andreas von Balge asked, although he already knew the answer.

“He beat his wife so badly that she lost the child. We all know that.”

Some of the other tavern customers nodded approvingly.

“But,” the advocate pointed out, “first things first: we’ve got to acquit our Madlen here of any and all charges.”

“Good luck, girl,” called out one patron. “All the good people of Heidelberg are praying for you!”

“Nail this bastard!” said one after another.

Andreas thanked them with a nod and a wave of his hand, then left the tavern with his client. At that moment, he knew exactly why he never wanted to be anything other than a full-fledged lawyer. They walked confidently back over to the courtroom.

Madlen felt something had changed as she entered the room. Before she’d felt suspicious and judgmental glances from the guards; now the same men opened the doors, gesturing amiably and nodding sympathetically.

It wasn’t long before the room overflowed with so many spectators that the guards had to refuse entrance to any more. Usually, when court proceedings started in the morning and still hadn’t reached a verdict by lunch, the average Heidelberger had better things to do than continue to follow the case. Usually, the man on the street would hear enough gossip to anticipate the decision of the court. But Madlen’s case was different. Not too long ago, it seemed as if this was just a case of improper administration of powerful herbal remedies. But now it seemed clear that a rich nobleman was purposefully tormenting a young woman by accusing her of something that he was guilty of. In the last few decades, there had been minor revolts against feudal lords and other nobles. Commoners were fed up with the rich and powerful. Until today, Madlen hadn’t received any special attention in Heidelberg, but for many Heidelbergers, now the allegations against her reflected what angered them most about their daily lives. Simple, honest folks were fed up with arbitrary injustice. Madlen looked over at the spectator stands and saw a young woman raise her fist. Madlen nodded confidently as others made it clear that they stood behind her. Their support reassured her, and yet she still had a sinking feeling about Barbara’s testimony, though she surely knew that Adelhaid Trauenstein would have died if Madlen hadn’t helped her. And even though she had never wanted to do anything but help people, she secretly wondered whether she would be so willing to do so in the future. The terror of the last few days had shaken her so badly that she’d been unable to eat or sleep properly, and her already slight frame became even thinner and more frail looking. It would take some time before she regained the confidence to help others again. Madlen winced when Andreas grabbed her arm. He pointed to the young woman now being led into the courtroom by a guard. “Is this the witness?”

Madlen nodded. “Yes, that’s Barbara.”

“She won’t look at you,” Andreas whispered to Madlen. “Try to get her to meet your eyes.”

“I’ll try.” Madlen lifted her chin, but the maid kept staring directly at the floor, refusing to look up. It wasn’t long before the sheriff and the jury solemnly reentered the courtroom and once again took their places.

“The court wishes to continue.” The sheriff looked around the room. “I don’t see Matthias Trauenstein; he’s supposed to lead the prosecution.” He shook his head.

A murmur went through the courtroom as the people looked around. Suddenly, the door opened again, and a gasping Matthias Trauenstein entered. “Please forgive me!” He rested his hands on his knees to get his breath back.

“What happened to you?” the sheriff asked.

“It’s my wife, Adelhaid,” he blurted out. “She’s not well.”

“But she’s due to testify this afternoon, immediately after the maid,” the sheriff said indignantly. “Are you trying to tell us that she won’t be able to make her statement?”

Matthias Trauenstein stood up straight again. “Adelhaid told me herself that she wanted to appear. I beg of you: Would it be possible for her to come tomorrow? I’m afraid she doesn’t have the strength today.”

The sheriff traded looks with the jurymen. Andreas von Balge followed their gestures. “They all agree,” he whispered.

“We have nothing against her testifying tomorrow morning,” the sheriff announced. “Today we’ll hear the maid’s testimony and, first thing in the morning, your wife’s. But one thing is quite certain, Matthias Trauenstein, your wife must absolutely appear here tomorrow.”

Matthias acknowledged him with a bow. “It’s of the utmost importance that she does so. Believe me.” He took his place.

“Good. Good.” The sheriff cleared his throat. “Now to you, maid. Your name is Barbara, correct?”

“That’s correct, sir,” she squeaked, looking up for only a split second.

“And from what house do you come?”

“My father is Hugo, the barrel maker’s servant, my lord.”

The sheriff nodded. “Now please tell us in your own words what led to the death of the Trauenstein infant.”

Barbara’s face turned red. Quickly, she glanced at Matthias Trauenstein, who threateningly raised his eyebrow. “My mistress didn’t feel very well,” she finally began. “She was only a few weeks away from delivery, and her usual midwife was no longer available.”

“She passed away. Everyone in this courtroom knows this,” the sheriff corrected.

“Yes, my lord.” She lifted her head. “I knew that Madlen had learned many things from Clara . . .” She hesitated and looked again at her master.

“Stop that,” warned the sheriff. “Look at us over here.”

“Yes, my lord.” She straightened her chair so that she could follow the sheriff’s orders and look only at the jury.

“Continue.”

“Like I said, Clara was dead, and I thought Madlen would be able to help my mistress. So I went to her.” She paused for a moment.

“Maid, at this rate, we’ll be sitting here till dawn. Must I ask you to continue after every single sentence?” the sheriff said indignantly.

“Forgive me. Madlen and I ran to the Trauensteins’. When we arrived, Madlen told me to fetch some herbs.”

“Which herbs?”

Barbara counted off on her fingers. “Arnica, sage, artemisia, oil, and honey. I went to look immediately. We had everything except for artemisia.”

“So far as I know, none of these herbs are poison?” the sheriff asked.

“No, my lord.”

Matthias Trauenstein started to clear his throat loudly. Barbara pressed her lips together. Her shoulders trembled. “But Madlen had her own herbs,” she continued, so quietly that it was little more than a whisper.

“What did you say?” Andreas von Balge addressed the witness.

“It’s not your turn,” the sheriff scolded. “Let the witness make her statement before you examine her. You are well aware of procedure.”

“Forgive me. But there was never any talk . . .” Andreas broke off. “I will question the witness afterward, as is our right.”

“So, maid, you said that the defendant herself brought herbs with her. What kind exactly?”

Barbara looked at Madlen for a half second, then focused back on the ground. “As far as I could tell, it was foxglove.”

A murmur went through the courtroom. Even the uneducated knew that this plant would put any sufferer out of his or her misery.

“Foxglove?” The sheriff raised his eyebrows high. “Are you quite sure of that? Look at me when you answer.”

Barbara looked up. “Yes, my lord, I’m sure.” She pressed her lips together until they turned white.

“What happened next?”

“Madlen prepared a paste and rubbed it deep into my mistress’s belly.”

Again, the courtroom erupted; some coughed in embarrassment for the maid, and others whispered to their neighbors.

“Quiet!” the sheriff thundered. He turned again to Barbara. “And then?”

“My mistress got sick, her stomach cramped, and she suffered terribly.”

“That happened only after the defendant applied the herbal ointment?”

“Yes, my lord. She started bleeding, and Madlen said that she had to get the baby out before it died.”

Up to this point, Madlen had listened to Barbara’s testimony dispassionately. But now Madlen put her hands in front of her mouth in astonishment. “Why are you saying this?” she gasped. Her heart beat so wildly in her chest that she felt she might pass out at any moment.

“Please no questions yet,” the sheriff warned. She sat there, ashen, her eyes torn open in shock.

Barbara swallowed hard. “A little while later, she pulled the baby out.”

“And did it live?”

“Yes, but not long. It was simply too small.”

The advocate peeked inconspicuously at the jury and the courtroom spectators. Many of their faces were pale as the gruesome images took shape in their minds. Her words horrified everyone. Von Balge fervently hoped that the sheriff’s examination would be completed as soon as possible so that he could start his examination and quickly disprove the maid’s testimony.

“What did the defendant do then?”

“She stayed and tried to comfort my mistress, but eventually she left us to deal with the dead infant ourselves.”

“And what did you do?”

“My mistress was ashamed to have lost yet another baby. She knew there was no way to bury the infant in consecrated ground. So, I walked to the forest to bury him. It was there that I was arrested.”

“When did your master become aware of these events?”

“When I was released from your custody.” She nodded at the sheriff. “I went directly home. Matthias Trauenstein sat on my mistress’s bed as they mourned their unbearable loss together.”

The courtroom was dead silent. The sheriff traded looks with the jury and exhaled audibly. “Now the court asks the advocate to begin his examination. I warn you to tell the truth.”

“You scared this girl to death,” Matthias Trauenstein commented indignantly.

“She’s scared all right,” Andreas von Balge immediately countered, “but that has nothing to do with the sheriff.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“You know exactly what I’m saying,” the advocate replied quietly but firmly. “Whether you want to admit it or not, even the most simpleminded in this courtroom knows exactly what you’ve done.”

“Oh, and what would that be?”

“Gentlemen! Let us restrict our line of questioning to one that will move the case forward. Mr. von Balge, conduct your examination.”

“Thank you.” Andreas took several deep breaths as he kept his gaze fixed on Matthias Trauenstein. He walked around the table until he stood a short distance away from Barbara.

“Would you prefer to leap up and run out of the courtroom right now?”

“What kind of a question is that?” Matthias snorted.

“Keep your peace.” The sheriff’s face turned an angry shade of crimson.

“Thank you.” Von Balge nodded. “I’m so sorry, maid, but it’s best that I’m completely frank with you from the onset: I don’t believe a word you’ve said.” He waved his hands and swept his arms toward the courtroom spectators. “And I can assure you, most of these fine citizens don’t, either.” He took a couple of steps and tapped his finger pensively against his lips.

Barbara could no longer hide her shivering shoulders, as she lowered her head and stared at the floor. Madlen could tell that her eyes were closed.

“Look at me, please.” Von Balge waited until she obeyed his command. “Do you find it difficult to make this statement here today?”

“Who wouldn’t find it difficult?” Trauenstein answered. The sheriff shot him a stern glance.

“The one point on which we agree,” von Balge taunted.

The spectators chuckled lightly.

“When you ran to Madlen’s house to pick her up, how long did that take?”

“I don’t know exactly.”

“Well, did she come with you willingly, or did she have concerns?”

Barbara looked over at Matthias Trauenstein uncertainly.

“Please keep your eyes on me,” von Balge demanded. “What did Madlen say when you asked her to help your mistress?”

“She hesitated at first.”

“My client hesitated. I see. What do you believe was the reason for that?”

“She said that she didn’t know whether she could help. She hadn’t worked in the field of midwifery as long as Clara.”