Angry, Pious shook his head. “It would appear she has not come.”
“But you as a priest do so swear to this man’s guilt?”
“I do so swear. As God is my judge, I do so swear. The death of his mother by poison can be witnessed by myself and one Frau Anka of Weyer.”
Hagan looked at Wil. “And you, what say you?”
Wil clenched his jaw and puffed his chest. “I swear under God that I am innocent of these charges.”
“Humph,” groused the judge. “Does anyone else accuse this man?”
Otto and Tomas stepped from their stall and threw back their hoods. “Sire!”
Annoyed, Hagan growled, “What’s this, bailiff?”
Tomas strode forward with Otto on his heels. “Sire, begging pardon. We are witnesses to this priest’s murder of Wilhelm’s mother.” Tomas pointed at Pious. “It was he who poisoned her, and we so accuse him!”
The crowd and the court gasped. Completely undone, the priest stared speechlessly at the two. “Tomas? Otto? But—”
Hagan pounced. “Do you lads swear under God that it be so?”
“We do so swear.”
“But they’re only boys!” cried Pious.
The judge narrowed his eyes at the pair. “How old are you?”
Otto swallowed hard. “Sixteen, sir.”
“Ja? Humph. And you?”
“Eighteen.”
“They’re lying to you, Hagan. They’re—”
“‘Hagan’? You dare call me Hagan?” The judge slammed his fists on the table. “I have two witnesses against the priest, and the priest is witness against this other. I—”
“But … but I accuse him of two more murders as well!” pleaded Pious. “Hear me! You must hear me!”
The crowd began to laugh and jeer. “Hang the priest!” cried one. “Put him on a spit!” cried another.
The bailiff shouted for order, while Hagan consulted his clerks. With his eyes then slanted toward Pious, he raised his hands over the surly crowd. “We have two accused of the same crime. The first has only one accuser, albeit a priest. The other has two accusers. Both of the accused have sworn innocence under God. So we shall let God sort it out. Bailiff, trial by water ordeal at the moat.”
The crowd roared its approval. Wil paled, but Pious collapsed, trembling and in terror. It would not do for the robes of a priest to be disgraced, so the man was immediately stripped by the grasping hands of the court’s guard. To the mocking laughter of the delighted crowd, his rotund body quivered and shook within the dubious confines of his underlinens as the wretch wept like a babe. A soldier finally kicked him to the ground, and callused hands hauled him across the dusty courtyard.
Wil was roughly handled as well. He was dragged through the mob and placed alongside a now-wailing Pious near the bridge. Both men’s wrists were bound behind their backs, and a priest drew near. Wil took a deep breath and searched the crowd for any sign of his companions. He spotted Tomas and Otto being held nearby, for if their charge proved untrue, the court would need to deal with them. He looked past them, desperate to find his wife. At last, his happy eyes fell upon Frieda. “Oh, dear God!” he murmured. The young woman had tossed back her hood and stood under the summer sun, still and calm. Her hair shimmered and her face was steady. She smiled, and at that moment he did not care what waited in the depths of the moat.
Pieter had flailed his way through the annoyed mob by swinging his staff like a man gone mad. Finally, panting, perspiring, and utterly exhausted, the man stumbled close to Wil. “Release your air,” he whispered.
Wil turned.
“Release your air … you must sink or be hanged.”
Wil understood. In trial by water ordeal, the water would be prayed over and God’s will sought by a priest. Then the accused would be thrown into it while tethered to a long rope. The sanctified water would reject sinners by expelling them to the surface. Hence, guilty parties would float, and the innocent would sink. If the judge ruled quickly enough, the innocent man might be rescued before he drowned. It was all in God’s hands.
The accused were taken to the bridge, and they looked down into the green scum that painted the waters below. The stagnant moat stank with floating excrement and the carcasses of prior days’ meals. All manner of refuse had found its way into this dredge of filth. Oily swirls looped between garbage and rotting fish, and a cloud of stinging flies hovered above. Into this black horror both of the accused would be tossed.
A soldier grabbed each man and led them to the bridge above the water. Wil lifted his shoulders and breathed deeply. He was lean from a long season of suffering. His heart was strong and his soul prepared for whatever his Maker would demand. Beside him wept a bulging, gluttonous man bent in terror. Soft and self-indulged, Pious was a tragic spectacle suffering the mocking taunts of those whose favor he had coveted.