Wolves Among Us (17 page)

Stefan did not answer. Mia tried not to breathe. Bastion addressed the crowd.

“Solomon himself would have trouble with this great dilemma, my friends. Do not judge Father Stefan for his hesitation. Do not be surprised if you are troubled too. Only listen to reason before you render your decision. Who knows the parable of the good Samaritan? One man lay dying in plain sight. Many righteous men walked past him and did nothing. One man saved him, at great personal expense. And this was the man Jesus praised, is he not?”

All nodded. Stefan did not look happy.

“This witch is dying, consumed with evil. Though it will cost us, in peace and in good dreams, we must save her. We cannot leave her to die in her sins. We must purge her of the evil she has done and release her to God. To do anything else is to comfort ourselves at her expense. Father Stefan, as our priest, your job is to show mercy to sinners, is it not?”

Stefan did not answer. Mia prayed for him to say something. There had never been a burning in this village. Mia thought she had escaped the burning days. Never did she think there could be a burning here, and never that Rose would die in one. Mia stared at Father Stefan, trying to catch his eye. She was tormented. How could Rose be the witch? Mia desired justice—without pause, she desired for a clean home and good and righteous life—but Rose had been her friend. How could she support burning the widow?

Mia could tell that Father Stefan avoided looking at Mia or Alma. “Yes, that is my office,” Stefan said.

“Then look upon her, Father Stefan.” Bastion grabbed the widow by the chin, forcing her face up in the bonfire’s light. Mia saw her eyes blinking only at strange, slow intervals. Her lip looked swollen and purple. Blood matted the hair along her forehead. Mia looked around to see if any of the women would come forward and offer to clean her face. Rose would not want people seeing her like this. She had always been so beautiful, so much more delicate than Mia.

Bastion spoke to Stefan in a voice the crowd could hear. “Have mercy, Father Stefan, on this poor woman. Would you leave her in the Devil’s bosom? Would you leave her to wallow in her filth, to return like a dog to its vomit? Is that mercy?”

Stefan shook his head.

“You may begin, Bjorn,” Bastion said. Looking back at the woman, Bastion spit. “May God have mercy on your soul.”

Mia looked at the faces of her townspeople. Would they stand and watch? Mia could not. She turned to run.

“Mia.”

Rose had called her name.

Mia turned her attention back to Rose, her eyes clear and fierce as the woman screamed at Mia.

“He’ll do this to you, too. Flee. Flee tonight.”

Mia saw Bjorn raise the whip as she scooped up little Alma and ran, as best she could, finding the dark path home.

She heard Dame Alice’s voice calling to her from the darkness. “Mia, come this way! Please!” A group of women huddled around Dame Alice, their eyes cold.

Mia ran with Alma, alone.

Mia ran as far into the forest as she could with Alma, but the child grew too heavy. Mia sat her down under a huge tree and leaned against it to catch her breath.

“You think I am a monster.”

Mia cried out in fear, whirling to find the source of the voice. Bastion stood, not far from her tree, and began walking with his hands extended in peace.

“I did not mean to frighten you, Mia. May I call you Mia? I never asked permission, and I should have. I am sorry.”

“You may.”

“I do not care for titles. I have several of my own and find them all a distraction.”

“How did you get here so fast?”

Bastion shrugged, dropping his hands. “’Tis not hard to be fast when you do not carry a child. Would you like me to carry her for you?”

She took a step back to shield Alma from his eyes. “Leave her. She needs sleep.”

“You’re upset about the scourging.”

“Scourging? If she was guilty, she deserved it, I suppose. But to burn her …”

“I wonder what you think of me. A gentle woman like yourself must think I am a monster.”

“Why does it matter what I think?”

“Because I have so few friends. I would like to consider you a friend.”

“Rose. I knew her. It doesn’t seem right.” She had to know what sort of man could do that before she pursued a pleasant conversation.

“You think I do not suffer on nights like this? You think I take pleasure in a death? I feel pain. I do not show it, but I feel it. My work takes a great toll on my spirit. And I have no family, no wife to comfort me when I have done the Lord’s will. I am the disciple Christ wrote of, the hunted animal with nowhere to lay its head at night, loved by no one.”

“You forget God.”

“What?”

“You forget that God loves His servants. You are not unloved.” She would not respond as perhaps he hoped. His remark sounded more like bait than true conversation.

“Listen to me, burdening a good woman with my sorrows,” Bastion said with a laugh. “Yes, of course, God loves all His servants. Please forgive me. I am not always a strong man like your husband. You are a lucky woman to be so loved.”

Bastion looked on the brink of tears. He had promised her healing for Alma, and Alma had been healed. If Bastion had delivered the healing, Mia should be grateful. She knew she should push her heart to open to him. Even Bjorn thought so. Mia bit her lip.

“No, please forgive me, sir. I should offer you what comforts I have.”

“And what comforts are those?’ he asked. Her knees felt weak as he moved closer.

“None, save my ears,” Mia said, aware of what a fool she sounded like. “I can listen as well as any woman. Though I have little wisdom to make comment. But you can talk. I can offer a listening ear.”

A woman’s scream broke the moment, making them both turn their heads back toward the town. Howls from the forest echoed her scream all around them. Mia knew she was unsafe, but she could not be sure the wolves were the only beasts to fear.

“Bjorn has taken to my teaching quite quickly,” he said. “He wasted no time setting to work. He will be tired when he returns tonight. I wonder what you will do to pass your evening?”

“If he comes home, I will tend to him like a good wife.”

“A wife like you waiting on him? I would come home.”

“People cause the most trouble at night, under the moon. He has a difficult job.”

“All of men’s work is cursed. No man has it easier than another.”

“You cannot know that. You’ve never been a sheriff. The hours, the things he sees, it would make any man cold.” Mia turned her back to him, wiping at her eyes with her fingers.

“I can’t imagine any man could be cold to you.”

Mia did not turn back around. “I need to get Alma home.”

“May I visit you again, perhaps in the morning?”

“Why?”

“I have so often desired for a woman to speak with, one I know will not fall prey to the Devil’s advances, one I know would never tempt me to sin. You are a virtuous woman, a woman of intellect. I feel safe with you.”

“I am sure Bjorn will come home, but late, as you said. He will sleep late. He will need sleep.”

“I have no desire to disturb Bjorn. And there are matters I should discuss with you, Mia. Matters about this witch Rose, and about Bjorn. Will you allow me to see you? I can come later in the morning.”

Bjorn would say very little to her tonight. If he did come home, he’d fall into bed, exhausted. He would have no interest in talking to her, not tonight, not in the morning, not ever. She might never learn why a witch had cursed him or if a witch had indeed cursed Alma.

“I cannot agree to a visit without my husband present. A good woman would do no less, even if you are our salvation.”

“You acknowledge that I alone can save this town? That your daughter has been healed? And still you will not entertain me?”

“I cannot. Not alone.”

“You would risk everything to deny me this?”

Mia pushed her foot deeper into the dirt, trying to steady herself. Her legs had gone soft. She exhaled and turned around to face him. “You say a woman is corrupt in her very nature. I am trying, sir, to be righteous, despite myself. You would not fault me for this, would you? You would not take away the healing Alma has found?”

Bastion’s steady gaze betrayed nothing of his thoughts. He grabbed her hand and she gasped. Lifting it to his mouth, he kissed it, a formal kiss without passion. Mia felt heat surge through her stomach.

“I’ve never met a woman like you.”

“I should go.”

“Yes. I will return to my work.” He bowed his head before he went, keeping his eyes on her, making her feel like a bloom forced open.

Mia bent down to take Alma back up in her arms and return home. Alma’s eyes were open wide in horror.

“You’ve seen too much tonight, child,” Mia whispered. “It is all over now. Everything will be all right.”

Alma took her thumb from her mouth and spoke her first word, though Father Stefan had said Alma would never speak.

“No,” Alma said.

Chapter Seventeen

Stefan sat on the bench closest to the altar, his head in his hands. The candles burned too low, but he did not move. Nothing mattered. Bjorn’s words echoed in his mind. Bastion came looking for the Devil and found one. But it had been Rose. It couldn’t have been Rose. She had been so quiet, so kind to the beggars who passed through the village. Yet Stefan let them burn her.

Bjorn came in and sat behind him. “I was wrong,” Bjorn said, resting a heavy hand on Stefan’s shoulder. Stefan lifted his head.

“I am not a good man, Stefan. I feared an Inquisitor would see that. I thought that would bring disaster.”

“What disaster?”

“It wasn’t disaster. It was freedom.”

“I gave you the sacrament of confession and forgiveness.”

“I did not tell you some things.”

“Because I am a priest? A priest and not a man like you?” Stefan heard how angry and cruel his voice sounded.

Bjorn looked up at the cross hanging above the altar. “You’re a good priest. But you cannot understand all sins. Even I cannot understand all sins.”

“God doesn’t call us to understand our sin. Just to repent of it.”

“Sometimes we want to be done with a sin, but the sin is not done with us.”

“How can I lead you if you do not speak plainly with me? My people lie to me, hide from me, and now I have to watch them burn?”

“Words have been of no use. You tell us to pray, to cleanse our hearts, but we go on sinning. Bastion roots out the source of the evil and does away with it.”

“Do you know what one of the village women told me tonight? She said the town has been in fear since Bastion came, not knowing whom the witch might be, whom she might hurt. A cat fell through her chimney, right into her ashes one night. She was afraid it might be a witch come to curse her, so she grabbed the poor thing and dunked it in a bucket of water, baptizing it in the Lord’s name. She tried to deliver it from Satan.”

Bjorn laughed, making Stefan twist his shoulder, throwing off Bjorn’s hand.

“It’s a cat, Stefan,” Bjorn said. “You can laugh.”

“What did Rose have to do with Catarina or Cronwall? Why would she want them dead?”

Bjorn leaned forward. Stefan could feel his breath on his neck.

“Rose is dead, Stefan. You should be in here praising God instead of questioning His ways. ”

“Tonight is Bastion’s last night here. He did his job, rooting out the witch who stirred up trouble among us. I’ll accept that. But I will see that he is gone by tomorrow morning.”

Bjorn looked confused. “You do not know?”

“What?”

“Rose confessed during her questioning. She said there are dozens more witches in our village. Witches that fly with the Devil to Sabbath meetings, where they smash the sacred Host wafers under their feet and commit evil, indecent acts with their demon lovers, or even Satan.”

Stefan’s stomach pushed up into his throat, making him want to vomit. He shook his head. “Do you hear yourself? This is madness. It will end tonight, and Bastion will leave in the morning.”