Steve Salatto rolled his eyes. “Jesus H. Christ. The idea, Johnnie, is that we’re supposed to win over their hearts and minds. Not-goddamit-the other way around.”
“Well,” Johnnie F. repeated. “Ah.”
Castle Bimbach, near Bayreuth, August, 1634
Emma Thornton still couldn’t quite believe this was really happening. It all seemed like something out of a bad movie.
Desperately, she looked over at Meyfarth, as if he might reassure her. But the Lutheran pastor’s face, though stiffly composed, was also as pale as a sheet.
Guess not.
Both of them were tied to chairs in the dungeon. Well, not exactly a “dungeon.” The big chamber was a half-basement, with narrow windows up on the walls, allowing some light into the room.
“Torture chamber,” she’d call it, except it really had more of a resemblance to a very primitive dentist’s office. Which didn’t make her feel any better at all. Especially given the “dentist” and his assistant.
The “dentist” wasn’t so bad, maybe. If he’d actually been a dentist. Just a man in late middle-age, round-shouldered and with something of a stoop, wearing a nondescript cloth coat.
The problem was that Emma knew his actual position. He was Freiherr von Bimbach’s official gaol-keeper and executioner-a post which, in this time and place, doubled as “official torturer.”
His much younger journeyman assistant was even worse. No unobtrusive cloth coat for him. He was wearing the sort of outfit that blacksmiths wore while working in their shops. And he was just about as big and bulky as any blacksmith Emma had ever seen.
There was even a brazier glowing in a corner. With tongs being heated in it!
Unbelievably, things got worse. The door to the chamber was opened by a soldier, who ushered in the lord of the castle. He was holding something in his hand, but Emma was too pre-occupied with the Freiherr himself to notice what it was.
Emma stared at him. This was the first good, up-close look she’d had of Freiherr Fuchs von Bimbach since her kidnapping.
His appearance was… not promising. Bimbach was in his forties, stocky to the point of being overweight, and with a hard and heavy face. Clean-shaven, which made his jowls prominent.
He came right over to her and held up the object in his hand. Now, she saw that it was one of the pieces of Mormon literature she’d hastily stuck into her pocket when she’d been lured away from her stand in Bamberg.
“You are a heretic,” von Bimbach stated. “Here is the proof of it. Heresy is a capital crime, and I am charged with enforcing the law. And I have the Halsgericht.”
Emma rallied her will. “Not the new laws. You can’t-”
Von Bimbach slapped her across the face with the booklet. “You do not have permission to speak.”
He moved over to Meyfarth and held the booklet under his nose. “And you! A man who claims to be a Lutheran pastor, no less. You have tolerated this-no, have conspired with her.”
Meyfarth said nothing. But he returned the Freiherr’s glare without flinching.
After a moment, von Bimbach turned away. The soldier who had ushered him in was still standing at the open door. The Freiherr beckoned and the man brought him over a packet. Apparently he’d been carrying it with him.
Von Bimbach went over to a nearby table and spread open the packet. Emma could now see that it contain paper and writing material.
“You will compose a letter to your authorities,” von Bimbach stated. “To abuse the term. Both of you. And you will sign it.”
“I will not!” Emma hissed. Meyfarth shook his head.
Von Bimbach gave them a long, heavy stare. “Yes, you will.”
By now, Emma’s fear has been replaced by sheer outrage. “I will not! Go ahead and torture me, if you want to. I still won’t!”
The Freiherr’s sneer was something out of a lousy movie, too. “Not you, witch. For my negotiations-unfortunately-I shall probably need you and the so-called pastor intact. Still, you will the compose the letter.”
He swiveled his head to the soldier again. “Bring in the old woman.”
* * *
“You promised me they wouldn’t hurt her!” Judith Neideckerin shrieked at Noelle, half-rising from the chair in her chambers.
Noelle couldn’t meet her eyes, yet. All she could do was stare out of the window.
Another shriek. “Let’s kill him! Now!”
“We can’t,” Noelle hissed.
“You have a gun! An up-time gun! Don’t lie to me, I know you have it!”
That was finally enough to break Noelle’s paralysis. She spun around and faced Judith squarely.
“Yes, I do.” She reached into the pocket of her heavy skirt and drew out the Browning automatic. “Here it is. I’ve got it loaded, too. But does it look like a magic wand to you? It’s got less than ten rounds. And they’re not very powerful. What we call a .32 caliber.”
Hissing, again: “A so-called ‘lady’s gun,’ that Dan Frost thought I could handle better. As slender as I am. Damn him!”
She stuffed the pistol back into the pocket. “But it doesn’t matter, Judith. Even if I had a .44 Magnum-and assuming I could handle the great thing-it wouldn’t matter. The soldiers are on alert, all over the Schloss.”
“The staff-”
Noelle shook her head. “Not now. Not yet. They’re not ready to take on the Freiherr’s mercenaries, all by themselves. And if they did, they’d probably be beaten down, anyway. Except for the blacksmith and his apprentices-maybe some of the stable hands-they’re mostly just clerks and servants.”
Judith slumped back into her chair and lowered her head into her hands. Then, started sobbing.
Noelle went over and placed an arm around her shoulder. “I don’t think he’s planning to kill your mother.”
“He’s hurting her,” came the words between the sobs. Then, Judith lowered her hands and stared at the floor through tear-filled eyes.
“For the first time-ever-I wish the swine had sired a child on me. So I could strangle it.”
Noelle tightened the arm. “No, Judith. You wouldn’t.”
After a while, she added: “Just wait. There’ll be a time. Soon, I think.”
* * *
The torturer and his assistant had the old woman strapped into the contrivance that had reminded Emma at first of a very primitive dentist’s chair. Except now she could see that it was more like the equipment that hospitals used for women in labor. The pastor’s landlady was secured to the wooden base of the horrible thing with a heavy leather belt across her waist. Her hands were immobilized by other straps and her feet had been locked into stirrups.