“My name is Maria. Will you allow me to press my ear against your chest?”
The patient seemed too weak to answer, his body racked by violent coughing spasms. Maria approached and listened intently. But this was different than it had been with Agathe. “His heart is beating too fast and he’s burning with fever. Roswitha, soak some clean cloths with water and lay them outside. We’ll need to wrap them around his legs, otherwise the inside of his body will cook.” Sander twitched uncontrollably, and with each spasm he arched his back. “We have to calm him down.” She remembered how she would mesmerize laboring mothers to relax. “We’ll need a candle,” Madlen said.
Mechthild threw Roswitha a short, anguished look, but Roswitha nodded and went out. When she came back, she held a flickering candelabra.
“Prepare the compress,” Madlen ordered, and the women left the room.
She closed her eyes and tried to calm her breathing, radiating confidence and tranquility. Sander needed that more than anything else.
“Sander,” she began, her voice full and sonorous. “Open your eyes and look at the candle.”
He didn’t react, his body continuing its uncontrollable spasms of coughing.
“Sander.” Her voice sounded even deeper now. “Open your eyes. Open them.”
His eyelids flickered as he tried to obey.
“Very good. Look at the flame. The candle will calm you.” Slowly, she swayed the candle back and forth. It took a moment, but she noticed that his eyes followed the flame. “Very good,” she repeated. “Look at the flame, Sander. The candlelight will give you peace and quiet.” His gaze followed the candle as she moved it from right to left. Madlen thought back to that very first birth. She had recited psalms then, and those same words were the first to occur to her.
“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee,” she said, her voice sonorous as she moved the candle. His eyes kept following the light, his body relaxing little by little. “Blessed are you among women and blessed be the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.” She realized how inappropriate these words were for a sick man but pushed the thought aside and continued. She was satisfied to note that Sander became quieter as she spoke the words of the Holy Scriptures. She couldn’t remember everything she’d said, but Sander lay still, his eyes following the candle. He was stable.
Roswitha entered the room and paused when she took in the scene. Madlen continued to speak in a calming tone. “Now we’ll be wrapping your legs; the cold compresses will do you good and soothe your body. You’ll enjoy the coolness and feel better.” Roswitha understood that these words were directed at Sander, but were also instructions for her. She pushed aside the blanket, uncovered his legs, and started wrapping them.
“This will do you good, Sander. Keep looking into the flame. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. May Almighty God have mercy on us. He forgives us our trespasses and leads us to eternal life. The Almighty and Merciful Lord pardons us and forgives our sins.”
Roswitha carefully lowered Sander’s legs and covered him again.
“Close your eyes and sleep a little, Sander. Close your eyes.”
He let his eyelids slowly close; his head fell to the side.
“Very good.” Madlen got up from the edge of the bed and gestured to Roswitha to leave the room with her. She took the candle. Quietly, she shut the door behind them and blew out the flame, placing the candle on a narrow shelf. The women walked down the hall to an adjacent room, where Mechthild stood before a small stove, stirring the contents of a cast-iron pot. She turned to look at them.
“He’s sleeping now, which is good,” Madlen explained. “The coughing spasms have slowed, but they could start again as soon as he wakes.”
“How did you do that?” Roswitha said, gazing at Madlen.
“What do you mean?” Madlen felt uncomfortable. She knew that she’d made an unusual impression by holding the candle like a priest and reciting psalms.
“When I left the room, he could not lay still for even a second, and when I came back, he’d changed completely.”
Madlen thought through the best way to explain what she’d done. “I had to calm him down,” she said, somewhat helplessly. “That was the only idea that occurred to me.” She wondered whether the woman would throw her out. “What would you have done?”
Roswitha’s and Mechthild’s perplexed faces told her that this emergency explanation had done the trick. “I’m just glad that it worked. Now we need to reduce the fever and let his body discharge the sickness. Is the fresh brew ready?”