“Now, now. I’m here,” she said, reassuring the noblewoman. “I’ll do everything I can to help you and your unborn child.” She touched her forehead and patted her cheek. Adelhaid was burning up with fever.
“I heard about what happened to Clara. I’m so very sorry.”
Madlen nodded, but didn’t say anything; the thought of her dear deceased friend was too much to bear right now. She knew that Clara had tended to Adelhaid Trauenstein many times before. Yet Adelhaid, well past thirty years old, was far beyond her prime. Twelve years ago, she’d given birth to a daughter. The infant was only a few days old when one morning she simply did not wake. Since then, the mistress had suffered four miscarriages. Madlen knew that Adelhaid was under pressure to bear a male heir for her husband. This child could very well be her last chance at motherhood.
“I need a washbasin and more light,” Madlen commanded. Barbara nodded and left the chamber at once, returning just a few moments later with the basin and a few towels. Madlen washed her hands thoroughly; she had learned this from Clara. When treating a pregnant woman, proper sanitation was of the utmost importance so as not to endanger the child.
As Madlen washed up, Barbara brought over a dozen candles, which she set all around the bed. When Madlen turned, she could see Adelhaid’s face. In the dim light, she hadn’t noticed the massive bruising, swelling, and contusions covering the gentlewoman’s face.
“Dear Lord. What happened?” Madlen sat on the bed right next to the woman to take a closer look; Adelhaid turned her face to the side and wept. “I fell,” she said unconvincingly. All three women knew that only a man’s fists could disfigure an otherwise beautiful face this way.
Madlen closed her eyes for a moment to gather her thoughts. “I’m going to examine you now. Did he hurt your stomach?” Adelhaid nodded silently.
“Help me,” Madlen urged Barbara as she shoved the bedding aside in order to examine her mistress. “Take the candle and hold it like this so I can see.”
Barbara did exactly as she was told, and Madlen looked at Adelhaid’s pale body, covered with bruises. She lay on a stack of towels, the upper layers stained with blood.
“Did she lose much blood?” Madlen asked Barbara.
She nodded. “Yesterday evening, shortly after the fight . . .” Her eyes opened wide with fright when she realized that she’d slipped. “After the fall,” she corrected, “the bleeding began. I did everything I could to stop it. And it did stop for a bit. But then she started cramping again.”
“I understand.” Madlen examined Adelhaid again. Right above her navel, there was a strip of blue and red veins under her skin, forming scar tissue. Madlen didn’t see any bruises on her belly, and she sighed in relief. However, as she continued to scan the woman’s body, something knocked the wind out of her. The entire pubic area was red, green, and blue. Her inner thighs were swollen and bruised. “Did somebody do this to you?”
Adelhaid nodded again, sobbing despondently. Madlen laid her head on her stomach to listen for the baby’s heartbeat. She strained, changing her position again and again. But she couldn’t hear anything. All of a sudden, Adelhaid’s stomach contracted. Madlen knew exactly what these contractions meant. Adelhaid grabbed a pillow and bit into it to suppress her cries of agony.
Madlen covered Adelhaid’s belly with her hands and started to massage it on the side. “Do you have arnica, sage, artemisia, oil, and honey in the house?”
“I’ll look and see.”
“And chamomile,” Madlen called as Barbara picked up a candle and left the bedchamber. Madlen continued to massage Adelhaid’s stomach, exerting a little pressure and speaking reassuringly to her until the contraction finally subsided and blood streamed out of her body. Barbara returned.
“We don’t have any artemisia. I brought everything else.”
“Good. Now I need a mortar and pestle to grind up the herbs.”
“I’ll get it.” Barbara disappeared. Madlen guessed that the maid was relieved to avoid the horrific sight of her tortured mistress.
“Adelhaid,” Madlen said calmly, in the softest voice she could muster. “Your baby is dead. You know that, right?” At first, the noblewoman didn’t react at all. After Madlen stroked her belly softly, she nodded quickly.
“I’m so sorry.” Madlen was tempted to say that by viciously beating and raping his wife, Adelhaid’s husband had blotted out the life of their child before it even started. But it wasn’t the right time. Madlen fervently hoped that Adelhaid would prosecute her husband for what he had done to her and their unborn child, but deep inside, she knew it was a lost cause. Clara had seen many abused women but had never heard of their abusers facing charges for their crimes. Madlen wondered whether Barbara was also a victim of Matthias Trauenstein’s abuse. At that precise moment, the maid entered the bedchamber.