Stefan opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He looked at Mia as if expecting her to say something. She frowned.
“Father Stefan,” Bjorn said, “you have heard tell of many evils a witch is capable of. You have seen two of the worst, two of your own flock dead and tossed out with the chamber pots on the streets of this town. You must do this. For them. For Christ, Father Stefan. Do it for Christ.”
“I cannot scourge a woman.”
“I will do it. If you give me leave,” Bjorn said.
“Wait! How do you know scourging will have the desired affect?” Stefan asked. “Show me your proof.”
“Proof?” Bastion’s snicker was sardonic. “An odd word for a priest. But let me reassure you, reassure you all, that faith is always best served by reason. We must pair faith and reason. So let us reason this together: God uses discipline to change our desires, yes? Just as we discipline our children for their own good.”
People nodded. Stefan said nothing.
“Scourging is a severe discipline. Scourging will make sure she has no desire to bewitch anyone in this town, ever again. Scourging will turn her heart back to God,” Bastion promised. He looked at Mia, and she felt it in her knees, in a sharp stabbing pleasure through her abdomen. “Discipline of one serves the whole community. If there is sickness among you, if prayer is ineffective, if there is alienation where affection should live, these curses a scourging can break.”
Please. Mia mouthed the word to Father Stefan. Please God, she prayed silently, give Stefan the strength to do what is right.
Stefan nodded, his eyes focusing on little Alma, his face a mask of sorrow. “Bjorn may scourge her.”
Bastion jumped, clapping his hands. “Yes. Justice is upon us.” He ripped the leather mask off the witch and then turned her and ripped her shift down the back. He forced her to face the crowd.
The widow Rose blinked and shook her head, dust from the hood settling in her eyes as she faced them all.
“No,” Mia murmured. Rose squinted at her, confused, as if seeing her through stained glass.
Rose’s shift slipped off her shoulders, sliding down her chest, stopping just before it revealed her nakedness. She squirmed but could not adjust it with her hands tied. Mia followed the shape of the shift, the way it hung over Rose’s bulging belly. She was with child.
“What have you done? Rose!” Mia yelled her name, but got no response. No life remained in Rose’s eyes. Rose lifted her face in Mia’s direction, not seeing her, looking beyond her, beyond them all, at the horizon, as if waiting.
Bjorn took a whip offered to him by Bastion and swung his arm up behind his head. Mia cried out, hiding her face.
Bastion held one hand to delay him. “Bjorn will cleanse her of the malice she held toward you all.” Bastion looked right at her as he said it. “I promised you freedom and healing, did I not?”
His attention turned to the crowd. “I need men, strong men, to raise a wooden pole with plenty of kindling at the base.”
“Wait!” Father Stefan stood between Rose and Bastion. “You said you needed only to punish her; a cleansing. You said nothing of a burning.”
“My brother, we are only men. We can punish her for the spells she cast, for her heart inclined to evil, but we cannot save her soul. Even you cannot do that. Can you?”
“You did not say we would burn her,” Stefan answered.
“She is going to die. If not by my hand, then someday. Would you want her to go to Christ with these sins clinging to her? Would not God’s wrath be so much greater than mine?”
Stefan did not answer. Mia tried not to breathe. Bastion addressed the crowd.
“Solomon himself would have trouble with this great dilemma, my friends. Do not judge Father Stefan for his hesitation. Do not be surprised if you are troubled too. Only listen to reason before you render your decision. Who knows the parable of the good Samaritan? One man lay dying in plain sight. Many righteous men walked past him and did nothing. One man saved him, at great personal expense. And this was the man Jesus praised, is he not?”
All nodded. Stefan did not look happy.
“This witch is dying, consumed with evil. Though it will cost us, in peace and in good dreams, we must save her. We cannot leave her to die in her sins. We must purge her of the evil she has done and release her to God. To do anything else is to comfort ourselves at her expense. Father Stefan, as our priest, your job is to show mercy to sinners, is it not?”
Stefan did not answer. Mia prayed for him to say something. There had never been a burning in this village. Mia thought she had escaped the burning days. Never did she think there could be a burning here, and never that Rose would die in one. Mia stared at Father Stefan, trying to catch his eye. She was tormented. How could Rose be the witch? Mia desired justice—without pause, she desired for a clean home and good and righteous life—but Rose had been her friend. How could she support burning the widow?