The Master of Medicine (The Secret Healer Series Book 2) Page 8

  Elsbeth rubbed her hands together. “I’m freezing. Why is it so cold in this house?” She went to the table and sat down across from Madlen. There was obvious tension in Elsbeth’s face, and her prominent cheekbones seemed to jut out more than ever. Elsbeth had once been a beautiful woman, but recent difficulties, along with the constant marital turmoil she’d put up with for years, had taken their toll. Now she was pale and thin.

  “Maybe you should lie down for a little while,” Madlen suggested, leaning over the table to put her hands on Elsbeth’s. “Your hands are ice-cold.”

  “I would, but I can’t seem to relax no matter what I do. Oh, I can’t wait for this to be over.”

  “It won’t be much longer till we’ve ridden out this storm,” Madlen said, trying her best to give her mother-in-law an encouraging smile.

  “And do you really believe the operation will be successful?”

  “Yes, I do. You need to trust the doctor.”

  “When Peter can see again then everything will be all right. He used to be different, you know? He’s probably been dealing with this affliction for much longer than I was aware of.”

  “Elsbeth, I know my words might seem harsh, but even if the procedure is unsuccessful and Peter can never see again, his condition could not be worse than it is now. So any change will be an improvement. And as far as Peter’s business, Johannes will be back in a few days and he’ll have good news for us, I just know it. One way or the other, the current situation will be resolved. You must have faith, Elsbeth. That’s the most important thing.”

  “I’m afraid that I’ve lost a good part of my faith over the years.”

  “That’s quite understandable. But we’re here now, and we’ll stand by you and make life good again. Believe me.”

  “I do believe you.” Elsbeth squeezed her daughter-in-law’s hand. They jumped in surprise at the knock at the front door.

  “That’s the doctor, no doubt,” Madlen said as Elsbeth stood.

  “Helene, Helene!” the older woman called. “Where is that girl? Please open the door! How long does it take to open a door?”

  The maid, who had already reached the door, winced at her mistress’s harsh tone. Madlen rose from her chair, and she and her mother-in-law went into the foyer to greet the doctor.

  Madlen introduced Franz and Elsbeth to each other. The doctor was as calm as ever.

  “Are we ready then?” he said, turning to face Madlen.

  “Could you please be so kind as to watch over the children?” she asked her mother-in-law.

  “In my current state, Helene would probably do a better job of that than I. I don’t have the strength . . .”

  “But I want you to do it,” Madlen insisted, certain that a distraction would do Elsbeth good.

  “All right. I’ll take care of them.”

  “Thank you.” She turned to Franz. “Please, let’s go upstairs. Everything is ready. We’ve brought in all the lighting we could find and laid out clean towels and strips of linen.”

  “Say, might you have some time to talk when we’re finished here?”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Madlen said politely, although she feared a conversation about her studying medicine almost more than she feared assisting with the cataract surgery.

  Upstairs, she tapped softly on the door, then entered the bedchamber. “Peter? The doctor is here.”

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” Peter said. He sounded cheerful, if not enthusiastic. “Please come in and give me back my eyesight.”

  “That’s what I intend to do.” Franz stepped over to the bed confidently; Madlen followed him more hesitantly.

  “We need a chair,” Franz declared. “We’ll need to spread the lanterns around in a circle so that I can see better. Madlen, you will get behind your father-in-law and hold his head. Here, I’ll show you.” He moved a nearby chair into the center of the room, helped Peter to his feet, led him over to the chair, and helped him sit. Then the doctor stood behind the chair. “You’ll take his head like this and press it against your chest. You’ll hold his forehead with both hands so he doesn’t move. And you, Peter, you must try with all your might not to move even a little bit. One little twinge and your eyes could be destroyed forever.”

  “I’ll stay as still as I possibly can,” Peter assured him.

  “Good.” The doctor stepped around to the front of the chair. “Please, help me arrange the lanterns.” He moved two other chairs, one for himself, which he set directly in front of the patient, and the other, on which he placed two lanterns, off to the side. The other lanterns he and Madlen arranged in a semicircle around Peter.

  “I think I can see well enough now. Please step behind your father-in-law.”

  Madlen took her place.

  The doctor picked up a leather case wrapped in cloth and opened it. Inside lay an assortment of needles and scalpels, which gleamed in the flickering light. Then he picked up the towels and linen strips and arranged them neatly side by side.

  Madlen noted how clean and well maintained his instruments were. She felt a surge of confidence that he wasn’t simply making empty promises. Perhaps this procedure could really make a difference.

  Franz took out a big bronze needle then laid the leather case on the bed and sat down on the chair in front of Peter.

  “Maybe I should drink a little schnapps before we start to calm myself?” Peter’s voice was trembling.

  “No, that won’t be necessary. All you need to do is simply lean your head back onto your daughter-in-law and make sure not to move. And don’t speak any more, otherwise your head will move.”

  “Yes, Doctor,” Peter said meekly.

  Madlen held onto Peter’s forehead and pulled his head gently back, onto her chest.

  “Now open your eyes. I’m not going to hurt you. You won’t feel any pain.” The doctor moved the needle toward one of Peter’s eyes, then looked up at Madlen. “I will explain each step so that you’ll know what I’m doing. This is the only way to learn.”

  “Thank you,” Madlen said, although it seemed strange that he would do such a thing.

  “I’m sticking the needle into the corneal limbus, right here on the outer edge of the iris. I am moving the tip through the pupil.” He spoke so calmly and with such concentration that it seemed as though he weren’t executing the operation himself but simply observing.

  “Now, I’m cutting through the zonular fiber, and now I will press the lens down, like so.” He glanced at Madlen, who watched in fascination as he deftly wielded his surgical instruments.

  “And that’s it. I’ll hold it for a moment so the lens doesn’t rise back into its former position,” he explained, holding the needle. Madlen was rapt, so much so that she could barely breathe. Peter seemed completely calm, neither moving nor speaking, simply leaning his head against Madlen’s torso.

  “That’s enough,” the doctor said as he carefully pulled out the needle, having verified that the lens had indeed stayed in the intended position. He seemed satisfied. “Peter, you can move your head if you want before we proceed with the other side.”

  “That was it?”

  “On one side, yes. I’ll wrap a bandage over your eyes as soon as we’re done with both sides. Close your eye until then. I’ll tackle the other one now.”

  Peter shook his head briefly, then obediently leaned it back again. Madlen held his forehead. Just like before, Dr. Franz described each step of the procedure. When he was done, he picked up the towels and the strips of linen he’d laid to one side and prepared a bandage.

  “So. That’s it. Your suffering is over. I’m confident that when we remove your bandages in a few days, you’ll be able to see the smiling faces of your grandchildren.”

  “I dare not hope for that.”

  “Have hope. And now that everything is done, please fetch some schnapps for my patient and me,” Franz said, grinning at Madlen.

  She took a couple of steps toward the door. “I don’t know how I can ever thank
you.” Without waiting for acknowledgment, she raced out of the bedchamber. As she hurried down the stairs, Elsbeth stepped into the hall.

  “And?”

  Madlen embraced her mother-in-law. “It went perfectly. The doctor said that in a few days Peter will be able to see again.”

  Elsbeth was white as a sheet, though tears of relief had begun to run down her face. “I can hardly believe it.”

  “Believe it, Elsbeth. And believe that everything will be all right!” Madlen broke away from the embrace.

  “Where are you going now?”

  “I’m getting some schnapps for the doctor and also for Peter—he’s earned it.”

  “Bring one for me, too,” Elsbeth said as she walked unsteadily toward a chair.

  As Madlen went into the kitchen, Elsbeth collapsed onto the chair. Cecilia and Veit walked over and hugged their grandmother, who laughed as tears of joy continued to run down her face.

  When Madlen returned, Cecilia asked, “Is it true that Grandfather will be able to see again?”

  “Yes, my beloved.” Madlen knelt in front of her daughter, a bottle in her left hand and two glasses in her right. “He will.”

  Cecilia turned to Veit and gave him a triumphant look. Then she looked at her mother again. “And will everything be all right now?”

  “Yes, my little one. Everything’s going to be good again.” She pressed a kiss onto Cecilia’s cheek, rose, and went upstairs with the glasses and the bottle. When she got to the bedchamber, Peter was lying in bed, and the doctor was sitting on its edge. The two men were speaking softly.

  “Oh, you’re back. We were just talking about you.”

  “Oh?” Madlen handed the doctor the glasses. He held them so she could fill them up.

  “Yes. I’ve been having a stimulating conversation with your father-in-law about whether, in his opinion, women should be allowed to become doctors or not.” Franz put one of the glasses into Peter’s hand. “Your father-in-law is a very open-minded man.”

  “I can’t thank you enough if this procedure is a success,” Peter said. “I’ll repay you as soon as I am able.”

  “Don’t give it another thought. But there is something that you can do for me.”

  “Me? What can a blind old man like me do for you?”

  “Help me convince your daughter-in-law to join me in Heidelberg and sit in on my medical lectures. Just as a guest, of course.”

  “And what would be the purpose of that?”

  Franz turned to Madlen and held her gaze as he answered Peter. “I recognize passion when I see it. And your daughter-in-law’s eyes burn with a passion for healing.” He turned toward the patient again. “Besides, I know all about what happened here some years ago. Otilia told me how Madlen saved many lives despite her fear of being discovered. One recognizes a true doctor not by his or her gender, but by his or her passion for the vocation, and by his or her deeds.” He turned to Madlen again. “And you are called to heal. To deny that would be a sin.”

  Madlen was speechless. Why was the doctor being so persistent?

  “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t go,” she said. “Not yet anyway. I’m awaiting my husband’s return. He’s going to revive Peter’s business, and he’ll need my full support. And of course, there are the children.”

  “Certainly not an easy situation,” the doctor acknowledged. “And if you were to come later?”

  “I don’t know. What good would it do? I’ll never be allowed to be a doctor . . . in this country anyway.”

  “Probably not. But you could find out if your passion for healing burns as bright as I think it does. And should that be the case, Salerno is not too far away.”

  “And what about my husband and children?”

  “I will help you find a way to make it happen. And if this isn’t the right time, then at a later date. But don’t give up on your dream—if you do, you will live to regret it.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I know.” He sighed. “My sister was a healer, just like you. But she felt her dreams were unattainable, so she abandoned the medical training that would have led her to a fulfilling life. Afterward, it was as though a dark cloud followed her everywhere; she no longer laughed, she was utterly joyless. On the morning before her arranged marriage to an older businessman, she was found lying on her bed as though sleeping peacefully. But she did not wake up—she had poisoned herself.” Franz choked back his grief. “A mortal sin, I know. But I can understand her desperation. You could take away all my earthly goods and I would survive. But if I were prevented from healing others, it would kill me.” He pressed his lips together. “Now you know why I’ve been so insistent. I don’t want you to go down that same terrible path.”

  “You must go, Madlen,” Peter said, and Madlen couldn’t have been more surprised. “I know what it’s like to be followed by a dark cloud. I would never want that to happen to you.”

  Madlen was overcome with emotion. “I need to go . . . to go see my children and Elsbeth.”

  “Think about it,” Franz said as she left the room.

  “I will. I promise.”

  Chapter Eight

  The body of Bernhard von Harvehorst hung like a wet sack from the end of the rope, his face swollen, his tongue hanging grotesquely from the side of his mouth. Urine had puddled below him, and a chair lay tipped over on the floor.

  “Why haven’t you cut him down?” Johannes asked indignantly.

  “I can answer for that.” The same doctor to whom Johannes had spoken about Bartholomäus’s death stepped forward from the back of the room. “When I arrived, it was obvious that he could no longer be helped. I knew he was in the archbishop’s circle of close associates, so I thought you should have a look at him first. That’s why I sent for you.”

  Johannes was surprised. “You sent for me? I knew nothing about that. I happened to be with the archbishop when he got the message. That’s how I found out.”

  The doctor shrugged. “Then the messenger I sent is probably still standing in front of your house.”

  “What can you tell me about the deceased?” Johannes said, getting back to the topic at hand.

  “First of all, it was unnecessary to call me since he’d already been dead for several hours.”

  Johannes stepped closer to the body. He took the man’s right hand and inspected it. “His knuckles are bloody, as if he’d been fighting somebody before he died.”

  The doctor stepped closer and inspected the wrist, too. “You are correct. And I noticed something else.” He picked up the corpse’s left hand. “Do you see the abrasions on both wrists? It looks as though his hands were tied with a coarse rope.”

  “There was a struggle, and Bernhard von Harvehorst must have fought back. After succumbing, his wrists were tied before he was hanged. Then when he could no longer fight back, or perhaps after he was already dead, someone removed the ropes from his wrists to make it look like suicide.”

  “That would be my conclusion, too,” the doctor said.

  “The deceased was a very big man—it would have taken at least two strong men to overpower him. Where are his servants? Somebody must have witnessed or at least overheard something.”

  “The maid is sitting downstairs in the parlor. She’s the one who found him here.”

  “I must speak to her.”

  “Can we now cut down the deceased from this shameful position?”

  “I would be grateful if you could take care of it.”

  The doctor nodded and waved over one of the guards. The doctor stepped onto a chair and reached up with a knife to cut the rope while the guard held the body so that it wouldn’t flop onto the floor. Once the rope was cut, the guard laid von Harvehorst down carefully.

  Johannes left the room and went downstairs. A woman sat there; he estimated her to be in her midforties. She cut a robust figure; evidently things hadn’t gone too badly for her in the last few years. She held a handkerchief to her face as she cried, shaking unco
ntrollably.

  “Are you the housekeeper?” Johannes asked.

  She nodded.

  “What is your name?”

  “Duretta, my lord.”

  “My condolences, Duretta.”

  “If only I had been there! Then this never would have happened. His grief must have got the better of him. It’s just so terrible.” She pressed the handkerchief to her face again.

  “Grief? Over what?”

  “You don’t know? His wife died recently. Not even six months ago. And now him, too . . . What will become of me?”

  “No, I didn’t know that. But I can tell you that you are not to blame for your employer’s demise. He did not hang himself.”

  “He didn’t?” She looked at Johannes with surprise.

  “No. And if you had been here, you probably would be dead, too. Tell me, where were you last night?”

  “My sister was ill,” she said through her tears. “I took care of her children so she could sleep through the night. She has five children and the youngest ones—they’re twins—are just two months old. My sister is rather frail, and she urgently needed some rest. God didn’t give me any children of my own, or a husband. So, I take care of hers when my master allows it.”

  “I understand.” Johannes stroked his chin pensively. “When did you leave here yesterday?”

  “Before it got dark, my lord. I prepared my master his meal, and then he said that I could be on my way. So, I went.”

  “And then you came back here first thing in the morning?”

  “That’s correct. It was very quiet, so I thought my master might not be home. I didn’t go out again right away to the market, but then later I finally did. When I came back, I found him.” She began to cry again. “From now on, whenever I close my eyes I’ll see that image of him hanging there. I just know I will.”

  Johannes considered the housekeeper. Something didn’t seem quite right about her account, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He looked around. Everything seemed clean and orderly; there seemed to be no trace of a struggle down here. Either the murderers had tidied everything up after the attack, or the deceased had known them well enough to let them into his bedchamber without reservation. Suddenly Johannes realized what was bothering him.