An hour later, Kilian came in to check on her. She was sleeping deeply so he closed the door very quietly as he stepped out of the house again. He had never been this worried about his sister. But ever since this terrible accident with Clara, Madlen seemed like a completely different person. Even when she opened her eyes, it was as if she wasn’t aware of her surroundings. Yesterday evening, when he lay down on his own bed, his concern for his sister’s sanity rose to considerable heights; maybe Madlen had gone crazy. Kilian had heard of such things. People who had experienced something so horrific that they could no longer get ahold of reality. Kilian prayed that God would spare his sister this terrible fate. In less than ten days, Heinfried, her future husband, would come to pick her up. Kilian almost broke into a smile at the thought of the old goat being repulsed by his sister’s condition.
However, there was a chance that Heinfried would feel betrayed and demand the reversal of the marriage contract. On the one hand, Kilian would take this as a blessing because he was convinced the spice merchant was a bad match for his sister. On the other hand, it was clear that his father, Jerg, depended on this money since so many customers had yet to pay their debts to him. A cancellation of the contract could mean his ruin. Neither Kilian nor his father knew how they’d survive the winter without Heinfried’s marital contract funds. Kilian prayed for a miracle. But miracles seldom came to pass for him.
Pensively, he was headed back to the workshop when he heard someone call his name. Kilian turned to see Barbara. He’d known her since they were children. About five years ago, she’d gone to serve as a maid for the Trauenstein family. He knew that she didn’t have it easy. Matthias Trauenstein, the head of the family, was known for being rough and unfair. There were rumors that he disciplined his servants with a whip. Kilian sometimes asked Barbara about her bruised swollen cheek or black eye, but she always claimed that she was just clumsy. Although Kilian never believed a word of this, it wasn’t up to him to interfere. It would probably make things much worse for her in the long run.
“Kilian,” Barbara gasped, out of breath. “Is Madlen home? How is she? I heard what happened with Clara.”
He nodded in the direction of the cottage. “She’s sleeping. She hasn’t done much else since Clara’s death.”
Barbara pressed her lips together. “But I need her. Can you wake her up for me?”
“Go inside and see for yourself,” he offered. “Believe me, Madlen’s in no condition to help you or anybody.” He cocked his head slightly and scrutinized her. She was pretty, if somewhat pale, and timid as a deer hiding in the forest, ready to flee at the slightest snap of a twig or the crack of a dry leaf.
“What do you want from her anyway?”
“It’s my mistress,” she stammered, her despair evident. “She’s in trouble.”
“Yes, Madlen told me about this. Clara took care of your mistress, right?”
“That’s right. Her body isn’t strong enough to carry another life.”
“And what do you want from Madlen?”
Again, Barbara bit her lip, weighing exactly what she wanted to say next. “She is . . . well, she can . . . do something about this,” she stammered.
“What do you mean?” Kilian asked, as Barbara did her best to avoid his gaze.
“It’s women’s business,” she explained breathlessly.
“Go on in.” Kilian pointed at the cottage. “But you’ll see it won’t do any good.” He turned to go. “I have to go back to work. It was nice to see you again.”
“You, too,” she said, picking up her skirt and hurrying into the cottage. At first, she knocked timidly, listening carefully. No one answered. She knocked again, this time much harder. Again, no response. She gathered up her courage and opened the door.
“Madlen?” Her voice trembled. The cottage was furnished modestly. It was, by far, much smaller than the Trauenstein house, where the brick walls were almost two men high and included windows, wall hangings, and rugs. Madlen’s house was simple and bare. On the left was the fireplace where a large black pot hung from a chain. Next to it, small kegs and jugs were set on top of a stone slab. A bit farther on were two knives. Three chairs surrounding a wooden table stood in front of the fireplace. Behind it were three small beds, two pushed close to each other and a third a bit farther away. On the right side of the room, a chest with two blankets on top was pushed up against the wall.
“Madlen,” Barbara repeated carefully. She went a little bit farther and could easily make out a person on the third bed.