The Secret Healer(18)

“Yes.” The advocate seemed quite confident. “Madlen is innocent. We just have to convince them that this Matthias Trauenstein has no scruples so we can defeat him without a long, drawn-out fight.” He emptied his mug, satisfied. Madlen fervently hoped that he was right as he said his good-byes.



A few hours later, Kilian pocketed a few coins and made his way into the city, determined to find out as much as possible to help his sister. The advocate’s plan of action seemed quite clever, but Kilian doubted it would be so easy to win the case. Matthias Trauenstein was known throughout the city for his angry outbursts and brutality. It was common knowledge that he punished his servants with a whip. Why would he spare his own wife the same fate? But would his battered servant testify about his treatment, or would the noblewoman, his own wife, who was beaten so badly that she lost his child? If not, Heidelberg citizens would be more likely to believe Matthias Trauenstein’s allegations. After all, it was widely believed that Matthias wanted a legitimate heir even more than Adelhaid. These thoughts plagued Kilian the entire way to the Red Oxen tavern, where carpenters, plumbers, and other craftsmen as well as merchants met to drink their troubles away.

Kilian felt the looks when he walked into the tavern, and all conversation ceased. He was relieved when he saw Berthold, an apprentice plumber, who immediately raised his arm. “Kilian! Come sit with us over here.”

The other guests apparently took this as a sign to continue their conversations. Kilian walked over and sat down at the only open spot on the bench. “Greetings, everyone.” Some looked skeptical but eventually loosened up and included him in their conversations. Soon the forthcoming trial came up. “Don’t get me started,” Kilian complained. “Whatever anybody claims, my Madlen wouldn’t hurt a fly, and certainly not a baby. But let’s not talk about it.”

“I hear she has a lawyer?” Berthold remarked.

“Yes, and we hope this will all be over soon. From what I know, all the members of the council have to agree. I heard that Remigius from Hollen is one of them, so I’m not worried. Madlen helped his wife with the birth of his baby daughter last year. There were complications. But thanks to Madlen and Clara, they were able to bring a healthy child into the world.”

“Remigius from Hollen? How do you know?” asked one of the younger men, a servant whose name Kilian didn’t know. He worked for Bernhard, the cloth merchant who was under consideration for the council.

Kilian shrugged. “I have it on good authority. Of course, the names of the jurymen aren’t supposed to be common knowledge. But gossip travels fast in our quaint little city of Heidelberg.” He laughed throatily, as his drinking companions nodded. He beckoned the waiter. “A round of beer for me and all my friends. And keep our mugs full.”

The men at the table happily took note of his generosity, and when the beer came, they raised their mugs with Kilian.

“To my sister!”

“To Madlen, to your sister!” they all toasted together before gulping down their brew.

It was difficult for Kilian to wait for the trial to come up again, but he had to be patient. If he pushed the subject, he could fail in his quest altogether.

“And we were all warned to keep everything to ourselves before the trial,” complained Bernhard’s servant as he took another sip of beer.

“What’s your name?” asked Kilian.

“Sebold” was his terse reply.

Kilian’s heart beat faster. Was it time to advance his agenda? “And you work for Bernhard Stickling?” he said casually. “Isn’t he one of the jurymen?” He carefully measured the reaction of his drinking companions.

Sebold shrugged. “You didn’t hear it from me.”

Kilian breathed easier. “As far as I know, there are more than six names being discussed. The final choice still hasn’t been made.”

“Perhaps,” Sebold said. “I don’t know for sure. But it seems to me that everything’s already been decided.”

“Maybe our masters just want to brag about the possibility,” interjected Thomas, a servant to an architect who’d been commissioned to design a new church, surpassing St. Peter’s Church in size and splendor. Whether it would actually happen, no one could say; the ongoing city wars and other lingering disputes were stymieing progress.

“I didn’t know that your master would be one of the jurymen,” Kilian said to Thomas as he deftly continued to make assertions intended to loosen even more lips. “So now it’s not six but ten names in the running for the honor of being on the jury. Hopefully, there won’t be any shoving or quarreling when the trial starts.”