Stefan shook off Bjorn and went to the women, kneeling. He removed his outer vest and spit on it, using it to wipe at the blood, pushing hair out of faces, trying to help, touching his women for the first time. Tears ran down his cheeks, blinding him until he could do nothing more for them. Then he stood.
“Witchcraft has not been proved! These are your sisters, your neighbors, your wives! You cannot let Bastion have them!”
Bjorn grabbed Stefan with more force. “Come down, Stefan. This is the only way. You do not understand.”
“He can’t set any of you free of your sins! He does not offer salvation!”
“If he doesn’t, they will all die anyway.”
Stefan pulled his arm free, and Bjorn grabbed him again, pushing him to the ground. Stefan went limp just as he had seen Bastion do. Bjorn released him. Stefan got to his feet, slugging Bjorn in the cheek, sending him spinning down the stairs. Stefan turned to go after Bastion, but men from the crowd jumped on him, wrestling him back, kicking him until he could move no more.
“Stop.” Bastion’s voice shot through their grunts and curses.
Stefan looked up and saw their faces receding and Bastion peering down at him. Bastion clucked his teeth as Bjorn jerked Stefan to his feet, shoving him in the direction of the jail. Stefan couldn’t feel his legs. God’s mercy, he thought. They were bruised beyond anything he had ever felt.
Bjorn dragged him through the wooden jail door, the rough frame catching Stefan on the shoulder, ripping threads from his robe. The jail resembled a row of horse stalls, all wood with a filthy main aisle and sunlight peeking in through gaps in the roof where the wood had rotted. The jail stank. Stefan held his breath.
Bjorn pushed Stefan into a tiny stall. Stefan saw that he had no way to lay down, nowhere to relieve himself, no window to see out into the village. He could see Bjorn’s profile in the small cutout window in the doorway to his cell.
“Save Mia and Alma, please. For me. Send them to another village. She came to me for help, confused, and I screamed at her. God willing, it will be the last mistake I make in this village.”
“She ran away last night with Alma. She has not returned.”
“That does not mean she is safe. You know as well as I about what lives in the forest. You must keep her safe, or nothing you ever do will be enough to purge your guilt. And mine.”
“Am I guilty, Stefan? Or am I bewitched? I sat in your church every day, years upon years, and it did nothing to stop the vile desires of my heart. I’ve sat though your Mass and partaken of the Host, then left to ravage a woman. I did that, Stefan, after receiving your blessing, your pardon in God’s own name.”
“Bjorn.” Stefan covered his eyes with his hand in sorrow.
“So tell me, Father, why could I not stop? I wanted to.”
Stefan could say nothing. Bjorn slammed his fist against the door.
“Who compelled me to sin: your merciful God or a witch?”
“Neither.”
“No. If a man wants to stop but he can’t, that is a sign. He has been bewitched.”
“It is not a sign. It is sin. And Bastion can’t set you free from that. Punishing others can’t set you free from yourself. Bastion has arrested almost a dozen women by now, hasn’t he? He’s even burned Rose. And are you free? If so, where is your peace, Bjorn?”
Bjorn did not answer, but he did not turn away. He had to listen. Truth riveted anyone. Stefan knew with more confidence than he’d ever felt before that he was speaking the truth.
Stefan saw the shameful expression on Bjorn’s face and inhaled a long, sharp breath, when he suddenly realized yet another truth. “Rose carried your child, didn’t she? You’re the reason she turned cold to Mia, refused to speak to her again. And Catarina? Cronwall?”
“Ah, Catarina. She was not a compliant woman. I had such sympathy for Cronwall after a while. I had to do it, or she would have destroyed my good name. I could have been arrested, and now I see I did not even commit a crime. It was not me at work at all; even Saint Paul says the Devil is at work in our flesh. You should hear Bastion preach on that.”
“But why Cronwall, too?”
“Cronwall was first, of course. I killed him instead of the wolf one night. He was half drunk, though. He was going to kill me if I didn’t stop him. I don’t understand, actually, how he could treat her like that and become so enraged when I touched her. That man was an utter mystery.”
“But why did you dump them on the church steps? Why did you not try to hide your crime? Were you proud of what you had done?”
“Don’t you understand? It wasn’t me. If you want to talk, you have to stop these lies, or I will walk away.”