The Secret Healer(8)

“Madlen,” she said louder and more forcefully. This seemed to do the trick. Madlen moved slowly, pushing the blanket down a little. She blinked sleepily at the housemaid.

“Barbara? What are you doing here?”

“Madlen. Thank the Lord. You’re awake.”

The girl looked at her friend blankly. “What are you doing here?” she repeated.

Barbara sat on the edge of the bed. “Please, you have to help us.”

Madlen yawned. “Help you?” she asked. “Why?”

“My mistress. She’s bleeding.” Barbara swallowed hard. “And now she has a high fever. I don’t know what to do.”

“Go fetch the doctor,” Madlen suggested, not a hint of compassion in her voice.

“He’s not in town right now. You’re the only one that can help her.”

“How can I possibly help her?” Madlen sat up. “I’m sorry you’ve come all this way, but Clara was the midwife. She’s dead. I advise you to pray for your mistress. There’s nothing I can do for her.”

Barbara sucked in a deep breath. “My God, Madlen. What’s wrong with you? It may make no difference to you if my mistress dies, but I know you can help her. You worked by Clara’s side for years as she stirred up her herbal concoctions. I know that she would be ashamed to see you act and talk like this.” The maid was beside herself.

Her last comment cut Madlen like a knife. She knew in her heart of hearts that Barbara was right. She had learned a lot from Clara over the years. She knew how to prepare herbal medicines better than an apothecary. Still, she couldn’t muster the strength to take advantage of that knowledge. Just a few weeks ago, she dreamed of healing and educating people whenever and wherever possible. But now, after Clara’s grisly death, it all seemed pointless.

“Madlen!” Barbara said, ripping her from her thoughts. “She’s dying!” The maid broke out in tears.

Madlen looked at her. She wanted to tell this uninvited guest to get up, turn around, and get out of her house. But she couldn’t find the right words. It was almost as though she could hear Clara’s voice, urging her to help.

“I can take a look.” Slowly, she pulled the blankets off and put her feet on the cold floor to stand. She staggered, and Barbara grabbed her arm to steady her. Madlen took her hand away with a grateful smile and went over to her chest. She opened it and selected a long wool dress. When dressed, she brushed her long hair and plaited it into a long braid.

“I need to go to the workshop to tell them where I’m going.” She patted her braided hair back, picked up her long skirt, and stepped past Barbara through the open door. Where her sudden surge of energy had come from, the maid couldn’t say. Barbara followed her. Speed was of the essence now. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late.

The women hurried along the best they could. The crisp autumn wind blew into their faces; Barbara had to wipe her watering eyes with her dress sleeve in order to see. When they were almost halfway there, sudden rainfall hampered their trek even more.

“Come on, Barbara,” Madlen said to the maid. “The rain’s only going to get worse. Pretty soon, we’ll both be soaked to the bone.”

Barbara did her best to comply. She stumbled over a bump in the road, grabbing Madlen’s arm so as not to lose her footing. They both kept running and were soaked when they reached the grandiose estate on the market square. Madlen stopped for a moment to gaze at the high-walled facade looming over her; she shook away a feeling of intimidation. She’d never had a soft spot for such pomp. This kind of wealth didn’t make people any happier or more valuable to society. But she could not deny the Trauenstein home left a lasting impression.

“Come on!” Barbara urged, as one of the guards opened the gate and Madlen climbed the stairs to enter the house. “She’s lying upstairs in her bedroom.”

Madlen gathered up her skirt and climbed until she reached the top floor, Barbara right behind her. “Straight ahead, the second door,” she said, pointing the way.

Madlen knocked on the door lightly and stepped in without waiting for an answer. The room was dark and she needed a moment for her eyes to adjust.

“Mistress,” Barbara whispered.

“I’m awake.” She sounded distressed. For a moment, Madlen was overcome by fear when she realized that Clara wouldn’t be by her side.

“I’ve brought someone with me, mistress. You know Madlen. She’s going to try to help you.”

The sickly woman held out her arms. Madlen peered at the silhouette as she approached the bed. “Thank God you’ve come.” Adelhaid Trauenstein’s voice cracked, and she began to sob.