That night I don’t sleep a wink. Hour after hour, thoughts churn in my mind and I don’t drift off until shortly before dawn. Not for long. When I wake up, it feels like I’ve only just closed my eyes. I don’t know what’s woken me. It’s Sunday and outside on the usually bustling street, a serene peace reigns.
Sitting at the window, with a view of the empty yard, I think through my plans one more time. The conversation I’m about to have will be the start of enormous problems, but could also put an end to the disquiet in my mind.
I dress smartly, put on my prettiest lace cap and, after a light breakfast, walk over to the New Church. Evert and I always took this walk together; now there’s a painful absence next to me. But that doesn’t last for long. On my way, I encounter so many acquaintances that we end up arriving at the church in a big group. As I take my seat, my eyes travel to Isaac, sitting in his pew with a bowed head and without his wife and children. There are many Delft families in mourning, but no one has been hit as hard as him.
After the service, I make sure I end up next to him as we’re walking back up the aisle.
“Catrin.” He smiles weakly.
“How are you?”
“Hmm . . . I think you can probably imagine.”
I nod.
“And you? Are you managing?”
“I am.”
“It must be hard to find yourself a widow for the second time in eighteen months.”
“It’s not easy, but I’m getting through it.”
Side by side, we walk out of the church into the September sun.
“Adelaide and the children were wearing little bags of stone shavings around their necks,” says Isaac. “She was convinced it would protect them. A lot of people in Delft were wearing chips of stone when the plague hit; in some places there are grooves chipped out of the walls. I said it couldn’t be God’s will to damage the church.”
“I’m gradually coming to the conclusion that I’ve no idea what God’s will is anymore,” I say, and Isaac nods in agreement.
“Life isn’t easy,” he sighs, “but we can’t blame Him for that. Man is full of sin.”
“As bailiff, you know all about that.”
“Right. It’s infuriating how rarely people abide by the laws and commandments. Old, young, men, women . . . In most cases it’s only minor transgressions, but still.”
“Is that so? Are there so few serious cases? Murders, for example?”
“There are many crimes committed that end in death. Premeditated murder is less common. A couple of months ago, I was asked to assist at the trial in Leiden of a woman who’d poisoned her husband because she’d fallen in love with someone else. Afterward she’d fled to Delft.”
“And was she convicted?”
“Yes, of course. She went to the gallows.”
We stop in the middle of the market square.
“But how do you prove something like that?” I ask.
“That she had poisoned her husband? Simple: they found rat poison in her cesspit. She’d thrown away what was left. And according to the doctor, the symptoms her husband displayed had been a match for those found in cases of poisoning. “
“Someone else could have given it to him.”
“There was no one else with a motive. When we got hold of her lover, he admitted the woman had been planning something of the sort for a while. He was against it himself, but she’d gone ahead anyway. We couldn’t pin anything on him, there was no evidence to implicate him. But there was against her. In the end, she admitted she was guilty.”
“After being put to the question.”
“No, you can only resort to that if the criminal is caught in the act. And even then, only if we need a confession to carry out the verdict. If there’s doubt, then we don’t put people to the question, but we do carry out a forceful interrogation. A couple of days’ solitary confinement in the dungeon tends to help too. The rack is not something we resort to if we can help it; after all, this is the seventeenth century.”
“So if someone keeps on denying it, they can’t be convicted?”
“That’s about the size of it. Unless they’re caught in the act by multiple people.”
“By multiple people?”
“Yes. One witness is not enough. If that were the case, somebody could be convicted merely because someone else wants to get him or her in trouble. That’s why we require supporting evidence.”
It’s as if the sun is suddenly shining more brightly, getting warmer, as if the sounds and colors around me are becoming more vivid and cheerful.
“Is it like that in every city?” I ask.
“Of course. The law applies to the whole country. But where are these questions coming from, Catrin? You haven’t got anything on your conscience, I hope.” He laughs as he says this, but his eyes search my face.
I hurriedly come up with a reason for my interest. “I’ve got an employee I suspect of stealing. I was wondering how to deal with it.”
“If you need help, I’d gladly bring him in.”
“It’s only a suspicion. The things might have just been misplaced. I’ll keep an eye on it. Thank you, Isaac.” I smile and move to turn as if I’m going home.
“You’re welcome. You can always come to me.”
With a nod and another smile, I bid him farewell and walk away. As I’m leaving the market and turning into a side street, I risk a glance over my shoulder and see that Isaac is watching me go.