The Girl in the Woods. Camilla Lackberg

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СКАЧАТЬ Elin was, her whole face turned red. This sort of response occurred frequently. Elin held a strange position on the farm, since she was both a maid and the sister of the vicar’s wife. She belonged and yet did not belong. When she entered the servants’ quarters the others would often stop talking and refuse to look in her direction. In that sense, she felt even lonelier, but it did not greatly concern her. She had never been friends with many women, most of whom she regarded as spending far too much time gossiping and squabbling.

      ‘Yes, these are troubling times,’ said Lars Hierne. ‘Yet we are fortunate to have a king who refuses to turn a blind eye, a king who dares to enter the battle against the evil forces we are now fighting. This has been a difficult year for the realm, and the ravages of Satan have been greater than for many generations. The more of these women we can find and bring to trial, the faster we can quell the devil’s power.’

      He took a bite of bread and ate it with pleasure. Britta’s gaze was fixed on his lips, and her face shone with both fascination and alarm.

      Elin listened closely as she carefully refilled his tankard with wine. The first course had been served, and Boel of Holta need not feel shame for the meal she had prepared. They were all eating with great appetite, and Lars Hierne praised the food many times, which caused Britta to modestly throw out her hands.

      ‘But how can you be certain these women are part of the devil’s web?’ asked Preben as he leaned back in his chair, holding the tankard in his hand. ‘We have not yet found the need to bring anyone to trial here in our district, but I doubt we will be spared. Though so far we have merely heard rumours and loose talk about how others have set about the task.’

      Lars Hierne tore his eyes away from Britta and turned to Preben.

      ‘It is actually a very simple and straightforward process to establish whether someone is a witch – or a sorcerer, for that matter. We must not forget that women are not the only ones who may succumb to Satan’s temptations. Although it is more common for womenfolk, since they are more susceptible to the devil’s enticements.’

      He gave Britta a solemn look.

      ‘To determine whether the accused is indeed a witch, we first subject her to the water test. She is bound, hand and foot, and thrown into deep water.’

      ‘What happens next?’

      Britta leaned forward. She seemed to find the subject fascinating.

      ‘If she floats, she is a witch. I am proud to say that so far we have not subjected a single innocent woman to an unjust accusation. They have all floated like birds. And with that, they have revealed their true nature. Afterwards they are offered the chance to confess and receive God’s forgiveness.’

      ‘And have they confessed? The witches you have seized?’

      Britta leaned even closer, and the flames from the candles cast dancing shadows over her face.

      Lars Hierne nodded.

      ‘Oh yes, they have all confessed. Some have required … persuasion in order to elicit a confession. Where a woman has been long under Satan’s power or deeply in thrall to the evil one, his hold may be greater. But in the end they all confess. And upon confessing they have been executed according to the decree of both king and God.’

      ‘You are carrying out a most important task,’ said Preben, nodding pensively. ‘Yet I dread the day when we must carry out such a painful duty here in our parish.’

      ‘Yes, it is indeed a heavy cross to bear, but we must have the courage to take on whatever obligations Our Lord asks of us.’

      ‘In truth, in truth,’ said Preben, raising the tankard to his lips.

      The next course was now brought to the table, and Elin hurried to pour more red wine. All three had already had a good deal to drink, and a slight haze had appeared in their eyes. Again Elin felt Preben looking at her, and she took great pains not to meet his eye. A shiver raced down her spine, and she nearly dropped the pitcher she was holding. Her grandmother used to call such a feeling a premonition of trouble brewing. But Elin convinced herself it was merely a gust of wind from a gap in the window frame.

      Later, when she went to bed, however, the feeling returned. She drew Märta closer on the narrow cot they shared, in an attempt to fend it off, but the feeling stayed with her.

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