Bartel glanced around at the men hovering about. “Someone bring me some clean cloths and bandages.”
A few of the men went scrambling around and quickly brought two stacks of cloths. Bartel pressed two of the cloths against the side of Sophie’s head, making her wince at the sharp pain. Bartel motioned for Vincz to come over and continue holding the fabric to her head. “Hold it firmly so it will stop bleeding.”
Next, Bartel focused on the knife that was sticking out of her chest. Indeed, it looked gruesome, and there was a sting in her chest, but she didn’t feel as if she was dying. Even though she surely must be. A person didn’t survive a knife wound like this, did they?
“Just hold still,” Bartel said again as he reached down and took hold of the knife’s handle, his gaze flicking to her eyes, then down to the knife again. Bartel gave a short tug and the knife easily came up — along with the wooden cross she wore around her neck.
Sophie grabbed hold of the necklace still underneath her dress, and Bartel yanked on the knife, pulling it out of the pendant. Then Sophie lifted the necklace over her head and held it up.
Looking down, she saw the blood soaking through her clothing where the knife point had gone all the way through the wooden cross and into her skin. Bartel leaned over and pulled her neckline down just enough to see where she was bleeding and probed the wound with his finger.
He looked around at the men. “It isn’t serious.” He reached for another cloth and pressed it to her chest. “She will survive.”
She looked at each of the seven faces huddled around her, whose expressions were rapidly changing from abject grief, to joy and relief.
“She stabbed my cross.” Sophie’s voice revealed the wonder she was feeling, and she laughed.
Vincz started laughing too. Bartel said, “The cross must have stopped the blade from penetrating her breastbone. The duchess thought she had killed you, but the cross took the brunt of her blow.”
Dolf sank to the floor beside her, smiling and taking over holding the cloths to Sophie’s head for Vincz, who started wiping his tears on his sleeve.
A spontaneous whoop went up from Siggy, Dominyk, and Gotfrid.
Heinric, however, burst in loud sobs and cried, “Sophie hurt! Sophie hurt!” His sobs were so loud they vibrated the floor and reminded Sophie of the pain in her head and of how her head had struck the edge of the table in her struggle with the duchess.
Siggy went to try to comfort Heinric and distract him while the other men asked her how she was feeling and told her not to get up just yet.
She noticed Dolf kneeling beside her. “Oh! What happened to your face?” Red scratches, three on both sides of his face, were oozing blood. “She did this to you, didn’t she?” Pity rose up inside her for her friend. “Does it hurt very much?”
Vincz signed her words to him, and Dolf shook his head, making a quick gesture with his hand.
“Nothing. It’s nothing,” Vincz interpreted for Dolf.
“Nonsense. We must wash those scratches with clean water.” Sophie clicked her tongue against her teeth.
“I’ll take care of it,” Bartel said, letting Gotfrid hold the cloth to her chest.
Sudden fear gripped her. “Where is she now?” Sophie whispered. She made the sign for where to Dolf, one of the signs the men had taught her.
Dolf shook his head. He closed his own eyes, pushing his eyelids down with his fingers.
“She’s dead,” Dominyk explained.
“You’re safe from her now,” Gotfrid said, scowling. “She won’t harm you again.”
“What happened?”
“She drowned,” Dominyk said. “Dolf tried to pull her out of the river several times, and she scratched him. By the time we fished her out, she had drowned.”
“Oh.” Sophie felt numb as Bartel washed the blood off her head and bandaged it. Then she insisted he wash Dolf’s scratches. Dolf let Bartel wash his scratches, but when he wanted to apply some of his green paste to the scratches, Dolf pulled away and grunted and gestured no.
“Dolf, you must,” Sophie said. “I insist you let him do it.”
The other men signed to Dolf what Sophie said and he instantly sat back down and didn’t move while Bartel applied his green salve to Dolf’s face.
After the men helped her up and into a chair, Dolf made some signs to her.
“Dolf wants to know what happened to you, what the duchess did to you,” Vincz said.
Sophie’s voice shook as she told of the duchess appearing as an old, crippled woman, how she’d offered Sophie a poisoned apple and then come after her with the knife, and how Sophie had tried to fight her off. She shuddered, remembering the hatred in the duchess’s eyes.