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the amount”—he closed the pouch back up again—“and put the rest away so no one can find it. Understand?”
    She nodded. “Thank you, Kilian.”
    “Oh, my darling sister. Who will take care of you when I’m no longer by your side?”
     
    Over the next two days, Madlen prepared everything for her upcoming journey, gathering a few personal belongings and tidying the cottage. More importantly, she had to ensure that Clara received a decent burial. There would be no Mass with a priest like she would have wanted, but at least she could be buried in the cemetery within the city walls, and not outside them, in unconsecrated ground.
    Madlen took everything out of Clara’s little house she thought she might be able to use. She took the mortar and pestle as well as a few of the jars in which Clara kept her herbs. Madlen was certain that Clara would have wanted her to have them. Although she could very well have started without any of these things in her new home, she didn’t want to leave these precious items behind. These were the only mementos that she had left of Clara. Madlen could almost smell her dear friend in the jars and mortar, and it gave her a great sense of comfort. She had just sorted out some utensils when someone knocked on the door. Madlen answered and was shocked to see the two constables from the evening Clara died. Luckily, they were unaccompanied by the man who had gruffly grabbed Madlen’s arm, which caused her to drop the torch onto Clara’s dress.
    “The sheriff wants to speak with you,” one said, coming right to the point.
    Madlen thought about that evening when Clara died. Fear crept up her spine. “Why?” she asked, her voice shaking.
    “He’ll tell you once we bring you in. Put on your cloak; let’s go.”
    Madlen wanted to protest, but she was too overcome by fear. “I have to tell my brother and my father,” she answered quickly, pointing in that direction. “They’re over there in the woodshop.”
    The older constable gave his colleague a sign to go on ahead. As the younger constable disappeared, Madlen screwed up all her courage. “Can you please tell me what’s going on?” Her heart pounded at the thought of Clara’s jars of herbs, now in her possession.
    “It’s regarding the noblewoman, Adelhaid Trauenstein.” He said nothing more and Madlen sighed in relief. So Adelhaid had turned in that bastard of a husband. She smiled. “In that case”—she grabbed her cloak—“it’s my pleasure to accompany you.”
    The constable looked a bit puzzled as Madlen stepped around him, elated. Suddenly, his colleague came back from the workshop with Jerg and Kilian in tow.
    “What’s going on?” Kilian called out. “Why do you need to go with them?”
    “It’s all right,” Madlen called back. “It’s about Adelhaid.” She waved good-bye as she walked away, flanked by the two constables. Finally, justice would be served.

Chapter Five
    “So would you like to make a statement, miss?” The sheriff scrutinized Madlen, now sitting on a chair in front of his desk. She calmly returned his fixed gaze, though she was surprised that he had addressed her so politely. High-ranking people like the sheriff usually didn’t address commoners this way. Madlen was happy that the sheriff seemed to appreciate her willingness to testify.
    She straightened her spine and sat as tall as she could. “Yes, my lord, I do.”
    “All right then. Begin.”
    She nodded obediently and began with what had happened when Barbara showed up unexpectedly at her house that day, begging for help. As she moved on to the Trauensteins’ estate, the sheriff stopped her. “How did the maid know that you were able to help women with their problems?”
    Madlen hesitated. The sheriff’s voice was tinged with suspicion. Still, she had no desire to deceive him, even though he no longer seemed very sympathetic toward her. His skin looked addled from too much wine. His face was flushed, and his cheeks and nose