The Witch of Cologne

‘Detlef, your crime is greater than just conversion, you know it. You have questioned the divinity of the Bible, you have criticised the slave traders. There are other motives to the kidnapping, political ones.’

‘But what is to become of our son?’

Ruth looks at him, and for the first time in a week sees beyond her own anguish. The strain of little sleep cuts across his face, a new suffering shows behind the eyes. In the loss of her child she has forgotten she has a husband. Reaching up, she pulls him down to her mouth, as if to wipe away the anger, the guilt, and with them all the fear and terror of what could be. Her kisses break down his reserve and, to his amazement, he finds himself weeping in her arms. Covering his face he pushes her away.

‘Forgive me, I am not myself.’

Instead of answering she wraps her arms around him and rocks his head against her bosom. She takes his mouth again, her lips and tongue tasting salt and tenderness, her cheeks now wet with his tears, as their kisses deepen then quicken suddenly as the urgency of being within each other sweeps through them.

Running her hands under his nightgown she reaches for him. Like an innocent he abandons himself to her caresses as she pushes him back against the wooden floor, laying open his garments, revealing his nakedness and masculinity in all its awkward glory. Lying there, he watches the woman he loves become another as Ruth runs her naked breasts down his torso then tauntingly traces a nipple over the tip of him. Erect flesh against erect flesh, and blind desire pushes all thought, all fear, from her tense mind. His organ arching up to rest between her lips as she teases him with her breath, her tongue, her separateness. Then deep in her mouth she plays the length of him, glorying in his pungent scent of ball and hair, cupping his arse and muscle, feeling his seed beginning to build, to run beneath the skin. In wonder she holds him profound within her mouth, his lust, his love, his trust in her abandonment, and just before she knows he is about to burst in all his sticky glory, she lifts her face and pushes the hard long length of her husband, her man, her lover, deep within her. Already wet without a single touch she rides him, the eye of her love a velvet-tight fist closing with each stroke. His hands reaching for her tumbling breasts, for her flowing hair. Faster, harder. Each knowing the quickening within the other like a map of the cosmos that even the sightless could recognise. Somewhere in the groaning, in the mounting staccato of his lover’s cry, Detlef is happy to forget that they are each human and for ever separate.

She wakes suddenly, the awareness of someone else in the bedchamber flooding her instantly.

She blindly reaches for Detlef, his warm, sleeping body lies curled around a pillow. Thank God, she thinks, instinct alerting all her senses. Deciding not to wake him, she lights the candle with a flint by the bed.

As the yellow flame flickers the shadow of a woman appears on the wall. Transfixed with horror, Ruth realises there is no figure standing before it to make the silhouette. Lilith. Terror shrieks through her flesh like a physical convulsion. Quivering, she watches as a faint mist slowly collects in the centre of the room. Swirling slightly, it gathers then congeals with mounting speed into the shape of a naked woman, as human and as ordinary as the midwife herself.

Lilith. The stench of the demon, the mockingly seductive demeanour, sweeps Ruth into a torrent of memory. She tries to move, to ward off the apparition, but finds she cannot.

Slowly the creature turns, her long thick black hair falling over her shoulders and drooping breasts. The clarity with which Ruth perceives the demon gives the illusion that time has slowed down, as if the seasons and the skies have stopped turning. An eerie silence fills the room as the howling wind outside fades away. As Lilith moves towards her, Ruth sees that this manifestation is of middle years, some two score or more. The stretchmarks on the creature’s womb indicate that she has borne many children. Lilith stares steadily at Ruth. Lifting a large hand, she slowly uncurls the long fingers, offering up the palm. It is covered with thick black curly hair, the hair of the sex. Revolted, Ruth watches as Lilith, lifting her other hand, points to Detlef.

‘Who summoned you? Who?’ The midwife’s voice is a croaking whisper of terror.

‘The Spaniard, the musician,’ the fiend answers, her utterance a baritone pleasure that oozes into Ruth’s ears. Slowly Lilith grins at the terrified look of revelation on Ruth’s face. The smile is radiant, like sunlight it fills the room and transforms her plain countenance into one of blinding splendour.

The evil spirit rises up into the air and hovering above the ground floats towards the sleeping man. Ruth sees that the obscenely thick growth of black pubic hair also covers the soles of the horny feet. Rotating her hips seductively, Lilith advances until she is beside Detlef. Asleep, he rolls onto his back. Innocent in dream, a half-smile plays across his mouth.

Lilith turns to Ruth who, immobilised by dread, is still lying beside her husband. Grinning triumphantly the she-demon lifts her heavy thigh and begins to mount the dormant cleric. Suddenly a great fury breaks inside Ruth.

‘No!’

With a huge burst of energy she pushes Lilith off her man.

‘No!’

She wakes, her body drenched in cold sweat, thrashing in Detlef’s arms.

‘Stop! Stop! You are dreaming!’

Shaking, Ruth comes to her senses then frantically runs her hands over him to assure herself he has not been harmed.

‘What was it, my love?’

‘Lilith.’

‘Ruth, I thought you had stopped with all that gibberish.’

‘She wanted you, she was after you, the inquisitor sent her…’

‘Hush, this is just fear talking, it is not sane.’

‘Promise me you will wear an amulet, promise!’

‘You know I do not believe in preordained destiny, only in sound judgement and foresight. We shall be safe, I promise you.’

‘Detlef, please…’

Detlef falls back on the pallet. He has not seen Ruth so undone since they left Das Wolkenhaus a lifetime ago.