Dancing in the Palm of His Hand

Dancing in the Palm of His Hand Read Free

Book: Dancing in the Palm of His Hand Read Free
Author: Annamarie Beckel
Tags: FIC014000, FIC019000
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He regretted the oversight. It would be unseemly for a member of the Lower City Council to be seen swooning at an execution. He tried to calm himself. Over the bulge of his belly, he studied a small blue flower near the toe of his boot, wondering how it had escaped trampling. He counted the petals. Five, and a bright yellow centre. The strangling was a mercy really. The witches would not have to endure the horrendous pain of the fires, and he would not have to endure their screaming. He hated it when witches retracted their confessions and had to be burned alive, with green wood to prolong the suffering. The shrieks were unbearable.
    Lutz heard cheers, then smelled the smoke. His stomach roiled. His breakfast had worked its way up, lodging in his gullet. He could taste bitterness at the back of his throat. Maria had warned him not to eat.
    Lutz’s ears rang in the silence. His back and legs ached. He’d been standing for hours, but he knew Father Herzeim would not leave until the witches had been burned to ash, as prescribed by law. Even their bones were dangerous. The executioner would gather the ashes and throw them into the river to be carried far away from Würzburg.
    Lutz could risk looking up now. The flames had burned down and nearly everyone had left. Only a few ragged beggars patrolled the grounds for scraps of food. With a long pole, the executioner stirred the ash. A glowing ember flickered, then died, releasing a final smoky breath.
    Father Herzeim turned his face to the sky. Dark clouds had gathered overhead. “Why must they bring the children?” he said.
    â€œTo instruct them,” said Lutz. “To show them the wages of sin.”
    A small muscle at the corner of the priest’s mouth twitched. “The wages of sin,” he said softly. He turned abruptly and strodetoward the city gate, his black cassock flapping around his ankles.
    Lutz, his short legs pumping, hurried to keep pace. His closefitting doublet squeezed his chest and belly so tightly he could hardly draw breath. “Father,” he panted.
    â€œI must speak to the Prince-Bishop. At once.”
    â€œNot now, surely. It’s nearly time for evening prayers.”
    Father Herzeim slowed, waiting for Lutz to catch up. “There’s been a new opinion from the theologians at the University of Ingolstadt,” said the priest. “You’ve read it?”
    â€œI’m a contract lawyer, not a theologian,” Lutz huffed.
    â€œIt’s important, Lutz. They argue that people should not be arrested for witchcraft on the basis of accusations made by condemned witches. There must be other evidence. I must inform the Prince-Bishop.”
    â€œIsn’t tomorrow soon enough?”
    Father Herzeim shook his head. “I must talk with His Grace before he sends out the bailiff to arrest the people who’ve been newly accused.”
    â€œThe opinion directly concerns capital crimes, so the head of the
Malefizamt
will have read it. Herr Hampelmann will inform the Prince-Bishop.”
    â€œOf that, I am not so sure.” Father Herzeim laid a hand on Lutz’s arm. “
Bitte
, will you come with me? The Prince-Bishop is weary of my complaints, but if you, a member of the city council, are with me, he will be more likely to grant me an audience.”
    Lutz cleared his throat. “Lower City Council, Father, only newly appointed.”
    â€œNo matter. You’re still a member.”
    Lutz considered his friend’s earnest face. What the priest had told him did seem important: to arrest, or not to arrest, on the basis of witches’ accusations when there was no other evidence. If Lutz were to go to the Prince-Bishop with new and valuable legal clarifications in a matter as pressing as witchcraft, it would be astroke in his favour. It could just win him an appointment to the Upper City Council. “All right,” he said.
    â€œBless you.”
    Lutz shrugged his shoulders as if

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