Wolves Among Us(44)

“Could they not be innocent?”

“What do you know? You know nothing about witches or their foul sins. You’ve never read the Malleus Maleficarum.”

Her chin trembled.

Bjorn’s face softened. “Mia, we are near the very root of our troubles. Trust me. Bastion and I will clean this village. I will have peace, no matter what it takes.”

Mia kept her voice gentle. “I want you to have peace. But I would say, although I am but a woman and know very little, that peace is a gift of God. I thought gifts were freely given.”

“You do amuse me with your logic. If peace were freely given, as you say, I would be out of work tomorrow.”

Mia made no reply.

“I will sleep now, at last. Try not to wake me.”

Mia watched him stretch and prepare for bed.

Bjorn saw nothing in her except a dutiful, dull wife. Once that had seemed enough. It had seemed more than enough. But she had let another man kiss her. Was her heart infected with witchcraft, or was this her true nature? How could she harbor this sin in her heart, the same place she kept the sacred Word, the same place she kept the memories of her father and Tyndale? How could a good woman have such hunger?

Mia looked down, shielding her eyes with her hand. Bjorn had changed since their wedding day too. The once-friendly women of this village had changed, as had Rose. Everything had changed.

Please God, she prayed. Give me something to hold onto, one unchangeable thing.



“Answer me.” Stefan shook the bars of the cage, but the witch would not look at him. “How do you know her to be a witch? Just answer that.”

“Your midwife, Nelsa, she kills newborns and offers them to the Devil,” the caged woman said.

“What? Why do you say that?”

“Bastion says it.”

“How does he know? Where is his certainty?”

“You never asked me my name.” She turned her back to him, sitting there on her rear, wrapping her arms around her knees.

Stefan groaned. “What is your name?”

She shook her head.

He changed his tone. “What is your name?”

“Ava.”

“Ava? It’s a good name.”

“It’s not my name.”

He was so tired.

“Are you so easily discouraged? I am asking you a riddle. Now, think: How do you know Ava is my name?”

“Because you told me. I believed you.”

She turned her head and grinned. “Yes! That is the answer. You believed me.”

Stefan understood. “Bastion tells you these things, and you believe him. Does he have proof?” His heart beat faster.

She wagged a finger at him. “I am not the only believer. And believers do not need proof.”

“But he killed a woman. She might have been innocent. He might kill more. We cannot do that on his word alone.”

She shrugged and went back to picking at lice in her bedding.

Stefan was alone in his doubts. Earlier everyone had filed out of Mass, eager to rush the day along, rush along with the business of living so they could return and see another witch burned. None of them would have let him confess his doubt to them. He had no refuge, save for his faith, and his words—words that had proved worthless to Catarina and Cronwall, words that had condemned Rose. Words in Latin, a language he did not even understand.

“Wait,” he said. “Did Bastion give any proof that you are a witch?”

She scooted around to look at him. “Yes. I had lost a babe not long after it was born. He died in his sleep. I told everyone that I didn’t know how it happened, but I knew it was my fault. A good mother would have known something was wrong. She would have saved him.”

“And then Bastion accused you of being a witch?”

“No. He showed me the evidence. One day I worked in the fields, and I said, ‘I believe it is going to rain today,’ and it did. We were in a drought, Father Stefan.”

“’Tis not witchcraft to feel a rain coming.”

“Only witches know the future, Bastion said. He showed me who I truly am. I must be punished. If I am punished, my son will see the face of God. If I am punished, enough of my sin will be burned away that one day I can see my son again. I want to burn, Father Stefan. It is all I want. Bastion will deliver me from this body of death, but I must serve him well first.”

“No, no. ’Tis not right. ’Tis not right at all.”

“I don’t want you to speak to me anymore. I want to burn. Why can you not understand? I want to see my son.”

“What if Bastion’s words are wrong? What if you’re not a witch? What would your son think of your punishment then?”

“He’d know I deserved it. Please, let me die. You have words. Bastion has words. I have already chosen whom I believe.”

“Stop! Stop right there!” Dame Alice’s scream interrupted Stefan’s reply. Turning, he saw a line of women tied together by a rough rope, being led to the church by Bastion. Dame Alice screamed at Bastion, trying to grab the rope away from him. He pushed her back and kept walking. Dame Alice saw Stefan and screamed at him next.

“This is not right!” she shouted.

Stefan backed away from Ava’s cage, saying nothing, then turned and ran back into the church, locking himself in, tears stinging in his throat.