“He guessed.”
“Would it calm you to speak to Roswitha again?”
“Yes, please.”
Agathe loudly summoned Roswitha. She must have been crying for hours. Her eyes were red and her eyelids swollen. She came to the table shaking. Agathe indicated with a nod for her to sit.
“Did you think about everything?”
Roswitha nodded but didn’t dare look at either woman. “I deeply regret it.” She put her trembling hands on the table and kneaded them nervously.
“We still want to help you,” Agathe continued in a soothing tone. She was tempted to lecture the maid once more, but decided to let it go.
“Really?” Roswitha looked up.
“Yes.” Madlen took a deep breath. “Although we forgive you, don’t you dare do anything like that again!”
Agathe looked over at her niece in surprise. She would have never thought her capable of such ferocity. Still, it was good for Madlen to have her say.
“Of course not.” Roswitha shook her head.
“Good. Now we must take care of this difficulty.”
The maid looked up, hopeful.
“If you are sure, I can give you something that will purge your womb.”
“Really?” Roswitha’s eyes opened wide. She looked between Madlen and Agathe.
“Yes, but it will be painful, very painful. And sometimes women bleed profusely, but their unborn children continue to grow in their wombs.”
“Then what?”
“We can try the herbs first. Should that be unsuccessful, there is another way.” Madlen took another deep breath. “We can remove it, but it’s not going to be pleasant. You need to be prepared.”
“Nothing can be worse than this bastard in my belly, which I am doomed to hate.”
Madlen bit her lip to keep from speaking. The hatred with which Roswitha spoke of her unborn child made her stomach twist.
“It must be done as quickly as possible. The spice merchants arrive tomorrow. We’ll go to the market and buy the herbs together. If all goes well, it will take between three and five days for the womb to expel the baby.”
“Thank you.” Roswitha lowered her head. “I know that I don’t deserve your help.”
“In the future, think about what you’re getting yourself into,” Agathe warned. “We’ll help you this time, but I will not tolerate this in my house again.”
“You must know.” Madlen held her chin. It was difficult to say. “Even if everything goes well, some women are unable to have children in the future.”
“What?” Roswitha’s eyes widened in shock.
“It doesn’t happen often, but it can happen.”
The maid chewed on her fingernails. “But I want children. One day.”
“You have to make a decision and live with the consequences.” Agathe gave her a serious look.
Roswitha gulped. “I want to do it.” She bit her lower lip. “Maria, will I know afterward whether I can have children?”
“If we use only herbs, there’s no danger. However”—she hesitated—“if we turn to more extreme measures, anything’s possible. But yes, I’ll know after.”
“And you’ll tell me right away?”
“Yes, I promise you.”
It took four days to prepare everything. Madlen searched a whole day for decaying wheat, which forms an ergot fungus. This fungus combined with arnica and a large amount of rosemary and sage would cause cramping and bleeding that would lead to a miscarriage. After Madlen had mixed everything together, she prepared a warm brew for Roswitha, which she drank in one big gulp.
“What happens now?” She looked at Madlen nervously.
“Carry on as you normally do. Walk as much as possible. In a few hours, I’ll prepare some more brew. But nothing will happen today or tomorrow, other than slight discomfort. As soon as you feel your stomach cramping, sit in a warm bath. That will intensify the contractions. At that point, you shouldn’t leave the house. I’ll stay with you and see it through.”
Roswitha’s entire body shivered as she held her hand out to Madlen. “I’m afraid.”
“I know, but nothing will happen to you. I’ll look after you.”
Roswitha broke out into tears. Madlen took her in her arms until she calmed down again. “Come on. We’re going for a walk. Tell me something about yourself.”
Over the next few hours, the women walked up and down the stairs, moving throughout the house, carrying out their ordinary duties. Madlen tried to distract Roswitha as best as she could. Agathe sat quietly in her sewing room. She didn’t want to be a part of what was happening. Even though she was the one who suggested the procedure, it was still repugnant to her: a God-given life would meet its end through no fault of its own.