The Witch of Cologne

But the inquisitor steps between them. ‘You will address me and only me during all interrogations, Señorita Navarro.’

‘My name is Ruth bas Elazar Saul.’

‘Your status as Jew is not recognised by the Inquisition, therefore I will call you only by your mother’s family name. Do you understand?’

At the inquisitor’s signal the guard lifts his fist to Ruth again. Flinching, she nods.

‘In that case, by what title, sir, do I address you?’

‘Monsignor Carlos Vicente Solitario.’

The guard pushes her down onto a stool. Displaying no emotion he folds out a small wooden table and places a flask of wine and some freshly baked bread upon it. Ruth can smell the loaf so vividly she can practically taste it. She reaches out only to have her hand knocked away.

‘If I allow you to eat, you will answer, understand?’

She nods then begins to stuff the dough into her mouth in handfuls. In a second she is almost choking.

Detlef pours a goblet of wine and holds it out. Tears streaming from her eyes, the midwife gulps the liquid down. Struck by the exquisiteness of her hands, the fingers a chiselled filigree of muscle beneath the grime, Detlef realises that the bedraggled creature could possibly have some beauty.

The inquisitor’s cold voice interrupts.

‘We have testimony from two women that you used kabbalistic amulets to assist in the birthings of their children. One child has not spoken since his delivery some two years ago; the other was stillborn, his soul stolen away by the devil himself, a barter you were no doubt responsible for.’

‘Frau Schmidt,’ she whispers, remembering the agony of presenting the dead child to his mother, his skin blue and mottled.

‘So you confess to the charge?’

‘No, I do not. The child had already perished in the womb. Sometimes even God takes without reason.’

‘Frau Schmidt claims you hung Hebrew symbols over the bed and used devilish instruments upon her body.’

‘The instruments are from Amsterdam, they are birthing tools designed by the eminent surgeon Doctor Deyman.’

‘And what qualifications do you, a woman, have that give you the right to use such tools?’

‘Those of experience and education.’

‘I am not aware that a woman—particularly a Jewess—is allowed to attend any university in the whole of Christendom.’

The wine has fortified her, it gives her a momentary bravado.

‘I did attend, as an assistant and…not entirely myself.’

‘What exactly are you implying: that you transformed yourself?’

Ruth hesitates. Honesty would be as condemning as a lie, but her father has indoctrinated her with utmost respect for the truth, no matter how uncomfortable. A halber emes iz amol a gantser ligen; a half-truth is a whole lie. It is her father’s favourite proverb. Ruth takes a long shuddering breath and gathers up her courage.

‘I was assistant to a student there. My name was Felix van Jos.’

‘You used magic to transmute your womanly shape to that of a man. Take notice, Canon von Tennen, this is another blasphemy.’

‘I did not! I merely donned the garments of a youth.’

‘You expect me to believe that for a number of years you lived as a man, Señorita Navarro?’

The inquisitor reaches over and tears down the coarse sackcloth to reveal her breasts. The guard begins to laugh.

‘God has blessed you with the shape of a woman. There is no way to disguise this curse other than resorting to witchcraft.’