Wolves Among Us (30 page)

“We are not ready to hear your case. The court would like to begin with another woman. Bring us Dame Alice.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, but Mia took another step forward. “No. Try me first, or do not try me at all.”

She saw the anger on Bastion’s face. Some would think him ready to burn her right there for her sins.

“Mia, step back. I could have you flogged.”

“Then flog me, but I will speak. This court accuses me of witchcraft. I stand before you to proclaim there is no power in me, save the power of God’s love. I have not the power to cast spells or make charms by magical means. But the power within me is far greater. I have the power to love the unlovable, to endure scorn and disdain, to abide hunger and loneliness.” Mia looked directly at Bastion. She wanted him to understand. She was not powerless. She did not need him, even if she was unloved.

Mia realized she had never heard a woman speak in public to a crowd. Her knees turned soft from her boldness as she continued, facing the people. “Does a witch love? Does a witch tend the elderly and wipe the brow of the infirm? Does a witch bear beatings and scoldings and return for them love and good service? I tell you, that is who I am, and that I what I have done.

“The women of this village say I blinded myself to my husband’s evil. Bjorn is accused of terrible things. If this be true, I cannot say. I only know what he has told me. I was wrong to not look deeper, to be so afraid of darkness that I had to pretend it was not there. The darkness in us, the darkness around us, is real. But we are not alone in it. I wish I had believed that much earlier. I wish I had never doubted that the power of love is far greater. I read it once, long ago, but I did not believe it for many years. Only now, when I may lose everything, have I come to embrace that as truth.”

“An eloquent defense,” Bastion said, his fingers digging into the arms of his chair. “The court will set your case aside until we can consider it in depth.”

“We should hear from her husband,” Stefan said, gesturing for Bjorn to speak.

“Move on from this case,” Bastion said. “Bjorn is not on trial.”

Mia watched as a look passed between Stefan and Bjorn.

“Stefan is right,” Bjorn said. “My wife is accused. I should speak.”

A round of applause broke out as Bjorn stepped down from his chair, walking down two steps to speak with the people. Stefan frowned, lifting his hands for the people to quiet. Mia watched Bjorn searching the faces in the crowd as if for an answer. He looked white, all the blood drained from his face.

“We are proud of you, Bjorn,” someone called. “You are the reason we sleep in peace now.”

“I did not want an Inquisitor brought to our village,” Bjorn said. “But much has changed.”

At his words, the crowd fell silent. Stefan lowered his hands. Mia kept her eyes from meeting Bastion’s.

“Mia,” Bjorn addressed her. He pulled the green vial from his belt bag.

Mia had forgotten that vial. So much had happened, so fast. “No! Bjorn, do not drink it! It can’t save you. If you are bewitched, it is by nothing more than evil, the same evil that whispers to us all. And its curse has already been broken.”

Bjorn looked like he had been slapped. He must have been stunned by Mia’s boldness. He looked at the women standing with Mia, the faces of his victims and the women who knew his secrets. Mia had thought he would be relieved to know he was no different than any other man, but he looked stricken.

“I have struggled to know who and what to believe,” he said to the crowd. “I did not want an Inquisitor because I thought my own secrets would be discovered. But Bastion arrived and told me my sins were not my fault. Now my wife, even my priest, says Bastion is wrong. Who can a man believe?”

The crowd murmured and nudged each other.

His expression changed suddenly, as if someone had just whispered in his ear, and Mia recognized the set jaw and cold gaze that came into his eyes. He had made a decision. He pulled the vial and tipped his head back, drinking the contents. He grimaced as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, then continued.

“My wife was discovered at the home of a known witch. I believe that because I discovered her there myself, where she gave me this vial. It is a witch’s counterspell. She said it would set me free from all the evils I have suffered. She urged me to drink it. Now, standing as a condemned woman before you, she begs me not to drink it. Why? Because she hates me. She knows now what I did. She wants me to suffer, just as she surely will. But I have chosen what and whom to believe.” At this, he turned and nodded to Bastion. “I will live a good long life, and many will hear of me. Everyone will know my story.”

Mia hung her head, shaking it with her eyes closed. She had been a fool to trust in Hilda, even for a moment. Charms and potions had no saving power against this madness. The old wound ached in her heart. Bjorn would not be saved, and he would know that she had failed him. Again.

People began gasping, murmuring all at once. Mia opened her eyes. Bjorn had fallen to his knees, clutching his stomach. He began retching, eyes opened wide, his face in a tight grimace.

“Mia?” he screamed, trying to crawl to her. “What did you give me?”

Mia scrambled back, afraid to touch him, but someone in the crowd caught her, forcing her to face Bjorn, who fell onto his back, writhing, his face turning green.

He looked up at her. “You said I would be free.”

He arched his back one more time then collapsed, lying still. Mia could not see his chest rise or fall.

Hilda’s words pierced her heart:
It is the only way to set him free from his evil.

Bastion jumped to his feet, his mouth opening and closing in his shock. Stefan ran to Mia, pushing her back from the crowd. “Get away from here, now.”

“Witch!” someone screamed.

“No. You did not understand what Bjorn was saying.” Stefan cried, trying to push Mia and face the crowd, too. “He wanted to confess.”

“Witch! Burn her!”

“Mia!” Stefan screamed to her. “Run!”

But the villagers caught her, pinching and hitting. She tried to hold her breath after they began spitting in her face. She was shoved at Bastion’s feet, the crowd in chaos. Bastion grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up, turning her to face the crowd, his breath on her neck like a burst of steam.

“Look at them, Mia. Look in their faces. They want you dead. There is no future for you here.”

Mia could not see Alma in the crowd.

“Friends and good Christians, patience.” Bastion called. “You do not know the law. We cannot burn Mia. Not yet.”

“I’m offering you a chance to live,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll give them my witch Ava to burn. I’ll put a sack over her head and tie it at the neck. No one will know it is not you. Come with me and live.”

“Make her die in my place? Crawl inside her cage?”

“It is the only way out.”

Mia searched the crowd again for Alma. She couldn’t see Erick, either.

“I forgive you for disobeying me, Mia. We can still be happy.”

Mia looked down at the angry, spitting crowd, her body starting to bleed from her wounds, her scalp burning as Bastion held her. She turned her head, wincing, to face Bastion. “I have lived my whole life in a cage. The bars were my own, made by my own hands from my fears, and all the lies in the world held it together. But I have been made free. I will never be caged again.”

“You will die.”

“But I will die free.”

Bastion pushed her, and she tumbled down several steps, trying to catch herself.

“What says the law?” someone yelled. “Why can we not burn her right now?”

“A woman cannot burn until she has confessed,” Bastion said. “Do you want Mia to confess? Shall we know all her secrets?”

Someone hit her on the back of the knees, and Mia fell to the ground.

Bastion glared down at her. “We will break her. We will get what we want.”

A hand shoved bread at her mouth. Mia spit at it as she came to, accidentally spitting on Dame Alice’s face. Her mind cleared, and she tried to sit up, reaching for Dame Alice, apologizing.

“’Tis all right, Mia. I shouldn’t have tried to feed you so soon. But you asked for bread.”

“Alma? Where is she?”

“I cannot tell you.”

“Please.”

“You didn’t confess. Bastion will put you to the question again in a few hours. ’Tis better if you do not know about Alma.”

Mia tried to press one hand down against the wooden bench she sat on to make the room stop spinning. She tried to move forward but her hand was limp. Pain screamed through her shoulder.

“Why can’t I move my arms?”

Dame Alice stroked her cheek. “Bastion tied them behind your back and lifted you off the ground by them. He did this three times, making all of us watch. Still, you confessed to nothing.”

Mia lowered her eyes to look at her shoulder, swelling underneath her shirt.

“Whose clothes?”

“Mine,” Dame Alice whispered. “I won’t get cold in here like you. You’ve always been too thin.”

Mia tried to focus on her. Dame Alice looked like she had tied herself up in rags.

“Alma?” Mia asked again.

Dame Alice stroked her cheek. “I cannot tell you. Not if you love her. You might confess, if the pain becomes too great.”

“Please. I won’t survive this. Tell me.”

“I will tell you this and no more: I have not seen Alma since the crowd stripped and beat you and the interrogation began. But neither have I seen Erick.”

Mia groaned. She knew Dame Alice was right. “I killed Bjorn, didn’t I? Hilda tricked me.”

“Then why did you go into the forest? Didn’t you know there were witches about?”

The jailer’s voice cut her off. How he must have enjoyed eavesdropping on these women. “But I forget, you are one, aren’t you?”

“Leave her alone,” Dame Alice called back. “She did what none of us had the nerve to do.”

“I didn’t mean to kill him.”

“Don’t tell us that. We’re just starting to like you,” Dame Alice said.

“She said it would set Bjorn free.”

“It did,” Dame Alice said. “In its own way.”

“But I’m going to burn for it! There is no one now who can prove my innocence.”

“There is no way to prove your innocence,” Dame Alice told her.

“But why? Why will truth not be accepted?”

“My dear, we’ll all be dead in a few hours,” Dame Alice said. “It makes no sense to worry about it now.” She put her arms around Mia. “I do not want to die with a stranger. Tell us your story, Mia.”

“No. I am ashamed.”

“Why?”

“You have been so kind to me. I hated it when you called my name in the market. It was not because I did not want to know you. I did not want you to know me.”

“Well, that is all in the past now. There is still time.”

“Time for what?”

“Time to love each other,” Dame Alice said. “Tell me, Mia, of your story. Tell us all who you are.”

Mia closed her eyes for strength, exhaling. She was free to tell her story. The burning days were not over, but Mia would not burn for reading the Bible. If she died, it was because more people had not read it, and lies passed as truth so easily. Mia wanted Dame Alice, and all these women, to know where the truth could be found. If she would die, she would die telling anyone who listened about the only source of truth and the only hope for this age.

Chapter Twenty-five

Stefan directed the boys dragging two wooden stakes to the church steps. The largest and heaviest of stakes went in the ground first. It took three boys to lift it into place. When it stood, Stefan regarded it. The structure looked incomplete.

He rubbed his eyes, clearing the dust. He hadn’t slept at all last night.

With the uproar over Bjorn, Bastion had suggested it best to dispatch Mia the next day. He said Mia needed one more night to consider her crimes and repent. He had not asked where Alma was. He seemed to have no interest in the little one. Not that it mattered now.

Stefan looked over his stretching shadow. Morning sped along too fast. He had much to do. He walked through the square, empty except for a stray rooster pecking about. Even the dogs were not at the windows this morning, pushed aside by their masters. Stefan saw faces, human faces, popping up and then withdrawing, spying on the two stakes set in front of the church steps.