The Secret Healer(6)

Without a word, Madlen obeyed. She grabbed the last two jars, lit the torch, and followed her friend out of the cottage. Although evening wouldn’t arrive for a few hours, it was the time of year in which darkness moved earlier and earlier over the hilly landscape. Madlen had to hurry. She wanted to get home so that she wouldn’t incur her father’s wrath. But first, she had to help Clara bury every last bit of the herbs.

The women walked a good way into the forest when Clara finally stopped. “This should do it.” She spread out the cloth and knelt down on the forest floor to dig a hole with her hands. When she’d finished, she stood up. “That’s deep enough. Light the torch—”

“We’ve caught you red-handed!”

Madlen let out a frightened yelp, and Clara gasped. “We only, only wanted to . . . ,” she stammered.

“We know exactly what you wanted,” the constable said. “You ripped the baby right out of her womb—a wicked old wives’ trick!”

“She didn’t know what we gave her,” Clara explained quickly as she looked at Madlen. “I lied to help her. She thought—”

“Silence, you wretched woman!” The constable gave Clara a resounding slap across the face, and she hit the ground, falling onto the jars, which broke into a thousand pieces. Clara lay unconscious, and Madlen cried out when she saw her head bleeding. She fell on her knees to help, but the constable grabbed her arm and she dropped the torch.

“Let me go!” roared Madlen as she tried to wrench herself away from his iron grip.

“Damn!” yelled the other constable, who had not yet taken part in the action. Madlen soon understood what he meant. The torch’s flame had reached Clara’s dress, and the fire was quickly consuming the highly flammable fibers of her multilayered skirt. The constable jumped on the flames, but they blazed higher and higher.

“Help me,” the constable yelled, and his sidekick let Madlen go. They tried to smother the flames as Clara regained consciousness. She screamed like a tortured animal and tried to tear the burning dress away from her body, floundering as the fabric burned into her skin. Madlen could only watch in horror as the smell of burnt hair and flesh took her breath away. Two strong hands pulled her back with a jolt. Madlen’s own dress had started to burn. The constable threw her to the ground and beat out the remaining glow with the palms of his hands. Madlen wanted to rush back over to Clara, but he held her down. “You can’t do anything more for her, girl.” His voice was tinged with regret, and he threw a furious glance at his counterpart. “Was it worth it?” he roared.

The other officer was too shocked to say anything. He gazed at Clara’s still burning body, now motionless.

Madlen’s arms began to shake, then her legs. Soon her entire torso shook like a leaf. The constable held her tight. “It’s in God’s hands now, girl. Shh, shh, it’s in God’s hands.”

She opened her eyes as something within her snapped. She rose and turned on him, kicking and yelling until she had no voice left. Suddenly, she felt so sick that she bent over and threw up. He held her protectively to keep her from losing her balance. Bile continued to rise in her throat and she collapsed limply. Everything went dark. When she awoke, she was lying in bed in her father’s cottage. A new day had dawned. She knew after this, nothing would ever be the same.





Chapter Three





The interrogation lasted only a few moments. The sheriff himself came to her father’s modest cottage to gently ask Madlen about the accusations against Clara. Madlen shook her head to each question, and it only took him a short time to deduce that Clara was innocent. His verdict was likely influenced by the fact that one of the constables had caused Clara’s death. Madlen felt nothing but emptiness; she was weak and barely able to put together a few short sentences.

As he walked away, the sheriff wished her a full recovery and then muttered something to her father as he patted him amiably on the shoulder. Then he was gone. Madlen pulled the blanket over her head and went back to sleep.

It took almost four days before she was strong enough to get out of bed. Her father and Kilian were in the workshop. She could hear the clamor of their saws and hammers. Madlen dragged herself to the doorway and inhaled the fresh air. It was cold out, but she wasn’t ready to return to the warmth of the cottage. She thought about Clara. Over and over again, she dreamed of her friend’s twitching body as it was engulfed in flames. Even now, Madlen was able to smell the stench of burnt flesh and hair. It made her sick. She quickly turned around, went back inside, and closed the door behind her. She started to pant, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she stumbled back to her bed.