The Secret Healer(112)
“Could we please get to the point, or must we endure your entire life story today?” Andreas von Balge said sarcastically.
“Has she also put you under her evil spell?” Johannes spit back. “Is the child she’s carrying actually yours?”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” Andreas said indignantly.
“Gentlemen, please,” the sheriff intervened. “This matter is not relevant to our proceedings.” He pointed to Johannes. “Please, Master Goldmann, tell us what concrete charges you have against the defendant.”
Johannes exhaled audibly. “In the name of Archbishop Werner III, prince-elector of Trier, I charge this woman with healing in the name of the devil.” He waved his hand. “I will prove that she took advantage of people’s fears and forced them to take part in unspeakable deeds. And this wasn’t the first time she did such things. She also called the dark powers to her side here in Heidelberg.”
“Many words but very little to say,” Andreas commented.
Madlen lifted her head; her eyes met Johannes’s. He looked at her angrily, full of hate and scorn. Had Andreas deceived her? Was Johannes waiting for her final death knell? She was shattered.
“What is this?” Otilia hissed in Elsbeth’s ear.
“Believe me, I know my son. He knows exactly what he’s doing.”
“Shall we start with the first witness?” the sheriff asked.
“Yes, may it please the court. I have tracked down people who can confirm that she is the secret healer. The list lies before you.” Johannes seemed exhausted as he went back to the table and sat in his chair.
“Will the maid Roswitha be the first to take her place as witness?” the sheriff called out to the guards next to the doors. A woman walked past them and entered the church. Roswitha went up the entire length of the aisle shyly, her head lowered.
“Please, come to the front and take a seat.” The sheriff gestured.
Roswitha followed his orders, nodded to Madlen, then sat down.
Johannes stood up and went around the table again. “Roswitha. We know each other, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“In whose service are you?”
“I was Agathe’s maid.” She turned and pointed at Madlen’s aunt. “But now, I serve my lady, Otilia.”
“In Worms, that might mean something to people. They are only names here. Tell me, what is the relationship between Agathe and the defendant?”
“I thought that Agathe was a friend of her mother’s. Now I know that Agathe is her aunt.”
“So, the defendant lied to you.”
Roswitha turned red. “I might have misunderstood.”
Johannes lifted an eyebrow. “Roswitha, back there”—he pointed—“is where the archbishop is sitting. Think about what you say very carefully. Let’s try this again. Did the defendant lie?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good. What kind of work did the defendant do?”
“She was a seamstress, just like my mistress.”
“A seamstress? And did she do anything else?”
Roswitha looked over at Madlen, who kept her head down.
“Don’t look at the defendant, look at me,” Johannes ordered harshly. “Now answer the question.”
“Could the prosecutor please clarify?” Andreas said as he stood.
“If it so pleases the defense.” He looked at Andreas arrogantly. “Roswitha, to your knowledge, did the defendant work at something else besides sewing?”
“No, my lord.”
“No? You must tell the truth.”
“She didn’t do any other work,” she insisted.
“Didn’t she also heal people?”
Roswitha looked over at Madlen as she bit her lower lip.
“Well, I’ll make it a little easier for you,” Johannes said. “Who is Sander?”
“He’s . . . he’s my husband.”
He sounded condescending. “And your husband was sick?”
Roswitha kneaded her hands together. “Yes, my lord. He had a terrible cough. There was hardly a family in Worms that was spared.”
“And did people die?”
“Yes, many.”
“But Sander was healed?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“And how did that come about?”
“Please, my lord, don’t force me.”
Johannes stepped toward her. “Answer the question.”
“Madlen helped him,” she whispered.
“Speak loud so that the people in the last rows can hear.”
“Madlen helped him,” she repeated loudly.
A murmur went through the crowd.
“Roswitha,” Johannes said in a soothing tone, “it’s obvious that you don’t want to testify. But you must. Tell us in your own words.”