Stefan tried to catch Bjorn’s eye before answering. “Not from me. I won’t even say a word.”
“As priest, you will, actually. If the women are found guilty of witchcraft, you must concur with death by burning. A formality, but it must be indulged.”
“I will not fail to do my duty today.” Stefan rested his arm on Bastion’s, as if to confirm his resolve.
“It is good for a man to love his work. Isn’t that what the Bible says?”
Stefan shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know it as I should.”
“But you preach from it. You demand the people build their lives around it. And you don’t know everything it says?”
“I preach what I was taught. I’m afraid I’m not a very good priest.”
“You’re a fine priest. You’re just an odd man. I gave you the chance to win their hearts,” Bastion said, gesturing to the crowd, “to be their savior, and you rejected it.”
“There is still time.”
Bastion’s face brightened at that thought. “Yes, Stefan, there is still time. Come and join me, won’t you?”
He led Stefan up through the crowd to the chairs set at the top of the church steps.
There was time indeed for a savior.
Chapter Twenty-four
The women had been led out to stand below the church steps. Mia stood just below the spot where Catarina and Cronwall’s bodies had been dumped. The women said it had been Bjorn’s doing, but she still could not believe that, not with her whole heart. She had lived with him, and, while she knew he hid secrets, she never suspected he could hide something quite so terrible. Could anyone really be so depraved and yet appear so normal? Didn’t all devils look frightening?
Mia searched the faces of the gathering crowd. She saw some of the men of the village and a few of the women brave enough to leave their homes, but mostly she saw strangers. Word must be spreading about the so-called witches of Dinfoil. A man she did not know pointed her out to his wife. Mia wondered what her reputation would become if she did not live—the witch who was married to the sheriff. She decided to ignore the crowd as she kissed Alma, willing herself to soak in every bit of her child, the softness of her cheek, the rough edges of her dress, her nose a tiny, perfect version of her own.
“You are beautiful, Alma,” she whispered. “I see God in your face. It is a fallen world, Alma. But you have been God’s grace to me, my reason for believing that good was still possible. Pray hard, Alma. Pray for God to save you once more. Pray He will grant you one more miracle. He alone healed you, Alma, I believe that now. While everyone chased devils, while I slept and dreamed of these strange days, God walked right into our home and healed you. Do you understand? He didn’t need me to be perfect. He doesn’t want our perfection, Alma. He just wants our hearts.”
Alma reached up her hands and touched Mia’s face. Mia closed her eyes. She would remember Alma’s soft touch. She would think of that no matter what happened.
Mia handed Alma to Erick, who stood behind the condemned women. She met his eyes and tried to communicate the worth of her little girl. But Erick nodded, solemn. He understood.
“Who shall be tried first?” Bastion called out.
“I will.” Mia nodded at the three men seated above the church steps just in front of the doors: Stefan, Bastion, and Bjorn. Bastion shook his head at her, his back straight in his tall, unforgiving chair. No one sat in a trial except the judges, and they sat in high, stiff chairs, a sign to those not wise enough to attain such a position.
“We are not ready to hear your case. The court would like to begin with another woman. Bring us Dame Alice.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, but Mia took another step forward. “No. Try me first, or do not try me at all.”
She saw the anger on Bastion’s face. Some would think him ready to burn her right there for her sins.
“Mia, step back. I could have you flogged.”
“Then flog me, but I will speak. This court accuses me of witchcraft. I stand before you to proclaim there is no power in me, save the power of God’s love. I have not the power to cast spells or make charms by magical means. But the power within me is far greater. I have the power to love the unlovable, to endure scorn and disdain, to abide hunger and loneliness.” Mia looked directly at Bastion. She wanted him to understand. She was not powerless. She did not need him, even if she was unloved.