“I have no training in the church.”
“Did God make me a woman?” he asked, surprising her with a smile. “Bastion spoke of women, how they cause all suffering, but I have not heard that before. You being a woman, you must know.”
Her feet hurt, her stomach burned, and she didn’t like Bjorn asking these questions, wanting to hear her thoughts. That’s not why they married.
“Say something so I know your mouth at least works.”
“I only know that most of my sorrows have lately come from women. They are cold to me and whisper about me. If they have remedies for Alma, I have to plead for them to share what they know.”
“But if Bastion speaks the truth, they have no reason to help Alma.”
“Because they cause her suffering? No, that is too awful a thing to believe.”
“But my question. Who should be punished?”
“Let me think. Only God can punish the Devil, so then we cannot. The man fell under a spell, against his will, so his sin does not come from his heart. It is the witch who must be punished. She offered herself to Satan. The evil began with her. Although Satan is the cause of all their suffering, she has brought it all to pass.”
“Stefan never told us these things. Why? Why would he keep these truths from us? Did he not know?”
She could see home.
The door, a series of boards banded together, well oiled by Mia, slammed open, and Margarite fell out onto the ground. Bjorn took off at a run, Mia running behind. Margarite moaned, her hands stretched out to Bjorn, her mouth open wide in a horrible grimace as she tried to make words. One arm rested at a sickening angle. She must have used it to catch herself in the fall and it snapped, Mia thought.
“What is it?” he yelled, reaching her and lifting her. Mia, only a few steps behind, pushed past them both. A woman, even an old woman with so little mind left like Margarite, would only do something so dangerous for one reason.
Alma.
“Alma!” Mia screamed, rushing to Alma’s mat, scooping her hot, red body into her arms. Alma’s head rolled off Mia’s forearm, flopping toward the ground. Mia yanked at Alma’s nightshirt and saw her skin retracting between each rib, her little gaunt stomach sucking in hard with each breath.
“Oh God. Oh God,” Mia prayed. Bjorn stood in the doorway, his arm around his mother’s side, helping her back in. He froze when he saw Alma’s body.
“Go!” Mia pleaded. “Get Father Stefan. Bring whatever medicine he has.”
Bjorn’s movements in the house were a blur. Mia cradled Alma and kissed her, over and over on her forehead, praying God would not be angry with her for begging Him to save Alma one more time.
As Bjorn sat Margarite in the chair, Mia heard what he said under his breath.
“What have I brought upon us?”
Chapter Thirteen
“Was it jealousy?” Bastion asked, dipping the rag into a bowl of water.
Stefan wasn’t sure he had any of his ear left. The witch had bitten hard, jerking her head back when she clamped down. He assumed his ear had come clean off.
“You thought if you could deliver her, people would be enthralled with you instead of me. Don’t be embarrassed. Admit it.”
Stefan’s face grew hot. “When someone calls for God, I answer.”
“Everyone was talking last night, excited, frightened. Not for me, but because of her. She enthralls them, Father Stefan, not I. No need for jealousy.”
Stefan rubbed his temples, wincing as the skin near the bite moved. Bastion pushed his hand away, trying to study the wound, see what else needed to be done for it.
“That’s why I bring her,” Bastion continued, dipping the cloth again into the water, now red. “People listen. She stirs their blood. But she is a witch, and a witch wants one thing: destruction of moral order. She has been to enough towns with me to know that the priest is always the best, first target.”
“I’m a fool.”
“Not at all. You are a good man but an uneducated priest. Submit to my instruction. That’s all I ask. No more mistakes.”
“I’ll try.”
“She wants to kill you. Are you going to give her the chance?”
“Bastion,” Stefan said, turning to look at him for the first time in the conversation, “I called for you because a good woman, or a woman we called good, was murdered, as was her husband. I thought we needed help rooting out one person. Bjorn didn’t think it important; the incident was over. A lover’s quarrel of sorts, he said. I thought if you came, rumors would stop. One person committed the crime, one person punished, only a few days lost. Now you arrive, and the whole village is infested with witches?”
“You don’t believe me because there is evidence of only one crime.”
“It is a lot to believe.”
“It stretches your faith.”
“Not just my faith. When you speak, my whole head hurts. I have never heard all this, what you swear is God’s truth.”
Bastion set the cloth down, moving his chair to sit in front of Stefan. “I’ve served the Lord a long time. Have you?”