The Devil and Miss Prym (On the Seventh Day 3)

"It's the men in the village," the hotel landlady replied. "They're going to the square, to discuss what to do about the stranger."

"I see. I shouldn't think there's much to discuss though, is there? Either they accept his proposal or they allow him to leave in two days' time."

"We would never even consider accepting his proposal," the mayor's wife said indignantly.

"Why not? I heard that the priest gave a wonderful sermon today, explaining how the sacrifice of one man saved humanity, and how God accepted a wager with the Devil and punished his most faithful servant. Would it be so wrong if the people of Viscos decided to accept the stranger's proposal as--let's say--a business deal?"

"You can't be serious."

"I am. It's you who are trying to pull the wool over my eyes."

The two women considered getting up, there and then, and leaving at once, but it was too risky.

"Apart from that, to what do I owe the honor of this visit? It's never happened before."

"Two days ago, Miss Prym said she heard the rogue wolf howling."

"Now we all know that the rogue wolf is just a stupid story dreamed up by the blacksmith," the hotel landlady said. "He probably went into the forest with a woman from another village, and when he tried to grab her, she fought back, and that's why he came up with the story of the wolf. But even so, we decided we'd better come over here to make sure everything was all right."

"Everything's fine. I'm busy crocheting a tablecloth, although I can't guarantee I'll finish it; who knows, I might die tomorrow."

There was a moment of general embarrassment.

"Well, you know, old people can die at any time," Berta went on.

Things had returned to normal. Or almost.

"It's far too soon for you to be talking like that."

"Maybe you're right; tomorrow is another day, as they say. But I don't mind telling you that it's been on my mind a lot today."

"For any particular reason?"

"Do you think there should be?"

The hotel landlady wanted to change the subject, but she had to do so very carefully. By now, the meeting in the square must have begun and it would be over in a few minutes.

"I think that, with age, people come to realize that death is inevitable. And we need to learn to face it with serenity, wisdom and resignation. Death often frees us from a lot of senseless suffering."

"You're quite right," Berta replied. "That's exactly what I was thinking this afternoon. And do you know what conclusion I came to? I'm very, very afraid of dying. I don't think my time has quite come."

The atmosphere in the room was getting tenser and tenser, and the mayor's wife remembered the discussion in the sacristy about the land beside the church; they were talking about one thing, but meaning something else entirely.

Neither of the two women knew how the meeting in the square was going; neither of them knew what the priest's plan was, or what the reaction of the men of Viscos would be. It was pointless trying to talk more openly with Berta; after all, no one accepts being killed without putting up a fight. She made a mental note of the problem: if they wanted to kill the old woman, they would have to find a way of doing so that would avoid a violent struggle that might leave clues for any future investigation.

Disappear. The old woman would simply have to disappear. Her body couldn't be buried in the cemetery or left on the mountainside; once the stranger had ascertained that his wishes had been met, they would have to burn the corpse and scatter the ashes in the mountains. So in both theory and in practice, Berta would be helping their land become fertile again.

"What are you thinking?" Berta asked, interrupting her thoughts.

"About a bonfire," the mayor's wife replied. "A lovely bonfire that would warm our bodies and our hearts."

"It's just as well we're no longer in the Middle Ages, because, you know, there are some people in the village who say I'm a witch."

There was no point in lying, the old woman would only become suspicious, so the two women nodded their agreement.

"If we were in the Middle Ages, they might want to burn me alive, just like that, just because someone decided I must be guilty of something."

"What's going on here?" the hotel landlady was wondering to herself. "Could someone have betrayed us? Could it be that the mayor's wife, who's here with me now, came over earlier and told her everything? Or could it be that the priest suddenly repented and came to confess himself to this sinner?"