She heard no reply.
“Bjorn, you must not let a kind heart blind you to the truth. A woman is out there who has caused this. Either name her, right now, or your child will die.”
Mia closed her eyes.
She heard Bjorn mutter.
“I do not care. Name the woman who hates you.”
She heard the tone of Bjorn’s voice but not the words.
Mia waited there, cradling Alma until her arms ached. At last, the door opened, and Bastion motioned for her to come in. He had a hard, accusing look on his face. Fear boiled again in Mia’s stomach.
Bastion rested a hand on Mia’s arm as he spoke. “I took water and put it in your kettle over the fire with some rosemary leaves you had about. Keep Alma near the steam.”
Bastion lifted his hand, and Mia’s arm went cold again. Something left her each time he touched her. She looked away.
He laid his hands on Alma to pray. “Most Holy Father, hear the prayer of your servant. Break every curse upon this child, and release her from Satan’s power. Grant me the power of Elijah, that I may return this child, so near death, to its mother. Amen.”
Alma stirred a little, just a fluttering of her eyelids and movement of her head. Mia hugged her tighter and wept.
“Please, God,” she added. “Hear his prayer. Whatever I have done, forgive me. Please forgive me.”
Bastion stared at her, flames from the fire reflected in his eyes. He looked like a prophet of old, she thought, one capable of great deliverances.
Bjorn did not look at her. “Let’s go.”
Bastion looked about and grabbed a chair from the table, dragging it over to the fire. “Sit down. Your arms must be so weak by now. Would you like a blanket?”
“No, thank you. The fire is warm.”
“Your husband and I have work to do, Mia. When Stefan returns, use the water he brings you to keep that steam constant. And say your rosary. Do not stop saying your rosary until you see Alma open her eyes and return to you. Do you understand?”
Mia nodded.
Bjorn left without looking at her.
Bastion paused at her side as he left.
“Mia, God has heard your prayers. I will save her.”
Chapter Fourteen
All of Stefan’s head throbbed, his ragged ear a relentless pain that tore through his body. He could not even bear to raise his arm as if to touch it. He had tried only once, and nearly fainted from the agony. His fingers had come away with something foul. He suspected the site might be putrefying from the witch’s bite. A witch’s bite could be more dangerous than any animal’s.
He had delivered the water to Mia last night only to find the men had already left on their mission. Mia said Bastion had pressed Bjorn to name a woman. She had not heard the name, but Bjorn would not look at her afterward. She said she felt glad Stefan had returned, hopeful he would have more answers. Alma had slept in Mia’s arms, a little color back in her cheeks. Not much.
He had been sent on a woman’s errand, and now the men, the real men of the town, had gone to do the men’s work. Stefan used all of his self-control to keep from kicking the bucket of water.
Mia had not wanted to speak about anything else. She rocked Alma and went back to her rosary. Stefan left, promising to send Erick back to check on her, and wandered through the town, hoping to catch sight of Bastion and Bjorn. He had no luck. The sun rose as he gave up and returned to the church, walking past the sheep in the back already bleating for breakfast. Erick filled a bucket with grain for them, pushing them back as they nudged his legs. Erick had the patience to feed them despite their constant bleating demands.
Stefan walked past him, saying nothing, attempting to put a hand over his wounded ear.
Stefan spied Bastion and ducked behind the corner to the dormitory entrance to avoid being seen. Bastion stood near the caged witch, pressing his body through the bars as she kissed him on the cheeks. The pink sunrise illuminated her thin frame and the wide bars of the cage. Bastion looked like a pilgrim worshipping at a shrine, kneeling before a saint.
She fell to her knees and took his hands in hers. She kissed them, then pressed them against her cheek. She had a look of ecstasy that made Stefan blush. No woman in his congregation had ever looked at him like that. He would not want them to. Why would Bastion allow it?
Bastion pulled free, bending down and lifting a plate of food to her. She jerked the food off the plate and ate with ferocious speed. Bastion just watched her, his face a mix of pleasure and regret. She finished, letting the bones from the meat she had eaten fall onto the straw around her, the same straw she would relieve herself on, the same straw she would sleep on tonight.
“When will you do it?” she asked. Stefan strained forward to be sure he heard the words right.
“Soon.”
“Please,” she pleaded, thrusting her arm through the bars, trying to catch hold of Bastion. He stepped out of her reach.