His smile dropped, and he released me.
I wrapped my hand around the wrist like it had been burned, holding it to my chest as I backed away from him.
“Do not touch me…ever again.”
Power pulsed through the cathedral, and it felt as if the walls warped outward, everything focusing down onto him. Dust froze in the air, and I braced myself, ready for whatever pain he was about to inflict as the shadows lashed out from behind torches and candles.
“As you command, my dove.”
A breath later, all was normal. The pressure disappeared, and he turned his back on me. I took one step back, then another, and then I was running again, tears streaming down my cheeks.
1 Adoro te Devote,written by Thomas Aquinas, written 1264. Translation by Ref 3
2 Adoro te Devote,written by Thomas Aquinas, written 1264. Translation by Ref 4
Chapter 19
Katharina
It had been nearly a week since Mass at the cathedral, and I had not seen…Heinrich…since. I had busied myself in the sick ward with any task that Sister Margareta could provide me, barely sleeping. What little sleep I found was plagued with nightmares of shadowy hands and eyes that glowed with hellfire.
Every evening, I visited the well house, and more and more women arrived, as if the increased burnings were driving more to my door rather than fewer. Fear had a way of doing that. But my mind echoed with his words:You save one woman at a time while hundreds burn. How long will you keep playing this game?
It was early morning, and I was back in the sick ward. I prepared a tincture for Herr Holtzmann’s final comfort—poppy for the pain, sage for the spirit—when the doors burst open.
The sound echoed through the quiet space. Several patients cried out in alarm.
The Schergen filled the doorway, their black cloaks stark against the soft morning light. There were four of them, though their number didn’t really matter for all the resistance anyone could offer. Behind them stood Wilhelm’s mother, her face twisted with grief that had transfigured into rage.
I knew what was coming next. I steeled myself, ready to run orfight—I wasn’t sure which—when Sister Margareta stepped in front of me.
“There!” She pointed at Sister Margareta, her finger shaking. “She is the one! She gave my son potions, spoke words over him in the Devil’s tongue!”
The ward fell silent except for a few rattling breaths. Every eye turned toward Sister Margareta, who straightened slowly from Herr Holtzmann’s bedside. She set down her basket of medicines, as if it were any other morning, as if black-clad guards were not already moving toward her with chains in their hands.
Her face remained calm, but I saw her fingers tremble slightly as she folded her hands before her.
“Frau Bauer,” she said gently, “your son was beyond any earthly help when he came to us. I gave him only comfort in his final?—”
“Witch!” She spat the word like poison. “You cursed him! I heard you chanting over him, calling the Devil in.”
My breath caught at the accusation. The song had been just as much to comfort me as Wilhelm. Another kindness twisted into condemnation.
I stepped forward, my heart pounding against my ribs. “Frau Bauer, you are mistaken. The good sister spoke only?—”
Sister Margareta’s hand shot out and gripped my wrist with surprising strength. Her fingers dug into my flesh hard enough that I flinched, and when I looked at her, her eyes met mine with a warning.
Stay silent.
I opened my mouth to protest. I could not let them drag her to the Drudenhaus for simply speaking in a different tongue, but her grip tightened until I nearly cried out.
“Yes.” She turned back to the guards. Her voice did not waver. “I spoke over the boy, to give him comfort in his final hours.”
“Witchcraft.” The guard’s voice was flat. “You will come with us.”
“Sister Margareta has been healing the sick for forty years,” Isaid, desperation cracking my voice. “She saved little Marie just this past week, and the blacksmith’s wife before that?—”
“Through dark arts!” Frau Bauer’s grief had transformed into something uglier now, something that needed violence to satisfy itself. “How else does one child live while another dies? How else does she choose who will be healed and who will perish? She let my son die because I could not pay her price!”
