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“For damaging city property, inflicting bodily harm, and uttering blasphemies against the burgrave, the pure maiden Agnessa, also known as the Plague Midwife, is sentenced to a fine of three Reichsgulden. The city court's decision is final and cannot be appealed to the papal chancery!”
The gavel banged, and the pompous, overdressed peacock of a judge grinned with satisfaction. He had long been waiting for a chance to sprinkle some pepper on the tail of this extremely energetic and brazen lady. However, there was one unpleasant nuance. While the Sisters were out hunting, smashing the skulls of all sorts of scum, they were under the protection of Mother Church. To touch them would be a one-way ticket to the purifying fire of the stake. Thus, people tended to steer clear of these blood-drenched women. Another thing was their revelry in taverns and inns after returning from raids. The crafty vixens had mastered the art of relieving stress before officially unloading their bags of loot for their superiors. It was as if they were still on duty. And when, after fasting and prayers, they left the monastery with grim faces to shop in the town, no one dared to come close. Complaining was pointless—you wouldn’t live long enough. One punch to the head, and you'd be off to the graveyard. And no witnesses would ever be found. No one was that foolish.
This time, however, the cards fell perfectly. The notorious figure was out for a stroll, browsing for new clothes at the tailors. She was the first to hurl a string of profanities at the burgrave’s aides, who happened to be walking nearby. Something along the lines of, "While some of us are shedding blood and risking our lives, others are taking bribes and buying fancy gloves ahead of everyone else." For that, she would have deserved a punch to the face. Said and done—she broke two of their noses, for which the guards filed an official report. They didn’t arrest Agnessa (see above about fools), but the next day, a summons to court was delivered. And there, by all the rules and laws, they hit her where it hurt—the wallet. Three gold coins—a serious amount. For many, that was a year’s work. She had gotten too bold, it seemed. Of course, the injured parties would only get a small amount of silver, if anything, but the most important thing was the precedent!
The grim Plague Midwife silently pulled the required amount from her purse, laid it on the clerk's table, and waited for the squiggles on a slip of paper that said, "fine paid." She glanced at the judge but said nothing. On this territory, there would be no protection from the monastery's abbot. Worse still, whoever she beat senseless, she’d later have to kneel and pray for endlessly. Brother Onuphrius didn’t like it when the nuns, in a fit of emotion, harassed the townsfolk. It was one thing if they were common folk. Much worse if they picked on the well-connected or the favorites of the elite. The path of complaints in such cases was well known: the magistrate, the duke's secretariat, from there to the royal audience, and back again through the bishop, with a furious "You're driving us mad already!" As they say, everyone has their people everywhere. Meanwhile, the Sisters are just messing around, getting in the way of others making a living off caviar and white bread. Running through the mud, dragging other people’s guts here and there, and refusing to calm down. If only they would follow the example of the central provinces. There, everything is serene—peasants toil away, knights drink swill by the barrel, priests swing their censers, hiccuping from heartburn and obesity.
“Alright, Herr Erhard, life is long; sooner or later, you’ll need something. You'll come and ask,” Agnessa said.
“And I'll come with a bishop's order,” the judge laughed out loud. Agnessa swallowed her pride and headed for the exit, past the murmuring crowd. Apparently, the old-timers had been expecting an epic brawl, given the mass of guards that had been summoned. Now they were trying to grasp the new reality—wait, is this really possible? A trial? And you even get paid for a brawl? Really? Or is that just for the burgrave’s kin and their hangers-on?
In the evening, no one dared to sit at the table with the Plague Midwife. It was clear that the lady was in a foul mood and might easily fork over another three gold coins. Only this time, the bold ones wouldn’t be taken to the doctor—they’d be sent straight to the graveyard.
But before Agnessa could finish her next mug of dark beer, a stranger materialized beside her: a tall man with a shaved head, a neatly trimmed beard, and a fashionable accessory on his nose—round glasses. He flashed a charming smile and gestured to the serving girls, who quickly began to fill the table with delicacies. Roast goose with apples, a milk-fed fried piglet, and carp baked in sour cream. Two bowls of rich soup, four large jugs of beer, and a long line of wine bottles.
“Apologies for the intrusion, Fräulein Agnessa, but I have a small business proposal for you. And I’m not one to discuss mutually beneficial matters on an empty stomach. Would you mind?”
“Who's paying for the feast?” Agnessa asked, sniffing the delicious aromas. She’d had a snack not too long ago, but her healthy body immediately hinted that continuing the meal wouldn’t be a bad idea.
“Naturally, I am. If you don’t like my idea, you can send me packing. In any case, let’s eat first. We can discuss the rest later, over beer or something stronger.”
“We won't burst?”
“Not at all!” The newcomer waved his hands. “This is just a bite for us. If needed, we’ll order more... Eivan Eatz, at your service.”
“Agnessa...”
***
They didn’t need to order more, but they drank their beer slowly and thoroughly, struggling to catch their breath after the hearty dinner. Seeing that the lady was open to hearing a bedtime story, Eivan explained the crux of the matter.
“You see, Fräulein, I want to open a solicitor’s shop here in the city. Handling legal disputes, protests, and protecting clients from the whims of the authorities. The license is expensive, but I finished my studies with Magister Bianchi in Trent a month ago, and now I’m setting off on my own, so to speak. I couldn’t find a place in the Tyrol region; the graduates there prefer not to stray far from home. So I came here. There’s probably not much competition, and the legal rats love to interpret laws in their favor. I’m hoping to make a name for myself and start attracting clients.”
“And what do you need me for?”
“You are the injured party. Your case has been the talk of the town since noon. So, if we can turn the situation to your advantage together, it will be the talk of the whole region.”
“To my advantage? And how much do you plan to charge me for that?”
Eivan looked like a real rascal—the kind you’d expect to demand an outrageous sum. After all, the Midwife had gold to spare, didn’t she? So, Agnessa was surprised by the stranger’s response.
“For you, it’s free. Your agreement to let me defend you and represent your interests is worth more than any gulden. If I help you, you might return with other issues in the future. And seeing you win will attract others. The key is to do everything by the book, legally. As they say, let’s beat the enemy with his own weapon—the law.”
“Beat? That’s something I can do. The judge has thick tomes—those should do the trick nicely.”
The solicitor laughed.
“That was a figure of speech, Fräulein! But you’ve hit on something important—there are many laws, and while they may not contradict each other, they leave room for maneuvering. The key is to build an airtight counterclaim, and then Herr Erhard will think twice before taking us on. So, how about one more for the road, and I’ll expect you at my office tomorrow at noon? I’ve rented the second floor above the 'Lame Pony.' They should be putting up the sign in the morning.”
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“Alright. I agree—both to the ‘one more’ and the visit.”
The judge's excellent mood lasted for exactly one day—from the moment he imposed the fine until the next day's lunch, when the clerk came running in and whispered excitedly into his ear:
“The wild woman went to that newcomer an hour ago! You know, the one who brought papers from the count to practice here. They saw her entering his office, carrying a sack with her.”
“Was the sack jingling?” Herr Erhard tried to imagine a favorable turn of events. Maybe the new guy had decided to hire some protection just in case and was throwing a party to celebrate?
“No. A piece of papyrus was sticking out of the sack. Looks like she brought documents.”
“Documents?” Erhard felt a sinking feeling of impending trouble. The idea of the Plague Midwife messing with paperwork was practically mystical. He needed to act fast, figure out which of the ‘Pony’ staff could be used to gather information. It was crucial to understand what kind of mischief the solicitor was planning. And maybe it was time to quietly get rid of him before he gained too much power.
The next day, however, the judge felt a bit calmer. Two of the complainants came by together, tediously going over the details of the ruling. Who had filed the claim? What injuries had been documented? What exactly was broken in the shop when one of the poor fellows was slammed through the wall? And on and on. The smiling solicitor carefully wrote everything down, never stopping his polite grin and repeatedly apologizing for the inconvenience. Agnessa remained silent, casting dangerous glances around the room. Finally, as they gathered their pile of documents to leave, she curtsied and strutted out as if she’d swallowed a rod.
“Phew, that was a close one,” the head of the local legislative and punitive authority sighed with relief, enjoying a bottle of red wine alongside a roasted duck that evening. The sense of danger was quiet, and the two gold coins in his purse warmed his heart, promising plenty of pleasant entertainment in the days to come.
***
The first clap of thunder came in the morning. Eivan Eatz stepped out of his office, climbed onto the platform usually reserved for the town crier, and loudly addressed the people hurrying about their business:
“Good citizens of the honorable city of Ulm! Today, I, the official representative of the immaculate maiden Agnessa, nun of the Order of the Brotherhood of Eradicators of Unclean Spirits, hereby announce! Following the laws of the blessed Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation and our county, along with royal edicts on combating heresy and blasphemy against the Mother Church, I am filing an official complaint against the local authorities on the following charges! The town officials and secretaries of the judicial archive are accused of sacrilege, conspiracy, and fraud with the intent to cover up a crime, as well as slander and extortion! Given the seriousness of the corruption uncovered, I have prepared a detailed complaint, which I will present at noon to Herr Erhard, the chief judge of honorable Ulm. Should the esteemed Herr Erhard deem it impossible to deliver a fair judgment, by law, the matter will be referred to the Church Tribunal for consideration of the gathered evidence.”
By noon, there wasn't a single free seat in the courtroom; spectators were practically sitting on each other's heads. The doors swung open, and through the narrow aisle strode the solicitor, dressed grandly in a black brocade suit, a fashionable beret with an ostrich feather, and a thick gold chain across his chest. Agnessa followed him demurely in her favorite red attire, holding her removed silver mask in the crook of her left arm. Settling on the bench across from the grim-faced judge, Eivan Eatz began in a loud voice:
“Honorable court! In reviewing my client's complaint, I gathered the necessary information yesterday. The facts that have come to light speak of heresy festering among us... With your permission, I will not waste the valuable time of this esteemed assembly and get straight to the point... Three residents of the city, as officially recorded in the archives, reported their displeasure with the phrase 'fat-bottomed bitches and stinking bedbugs.' This was deemed a baseless accusation. In response, these gentlemen expressed their opinions in a vulgar manner regarding the personal qualities of the immaculate maiden Agnessa. I will not repeat these words aloud, but I ask you to refer to points two and three in the copy I have provided. All the facts cited in the complaint were taken from official court documents yesterday, in your presence, Your Honor.”
Briefly skimming through the submitted papers, the judge, a heavyset man with a curled wig, nodded. So far, everything seemed to align with the letter of the law, just as they had discussed.
“Allow me to remind you, Your Honor, that members of the Brotherhood of Purification are bound by a standard procedure whereby the sisters cannot bear false witness. Therefore, we face a legal conundrum... According to the laws of the Empire, the county, and the city of Ulm, what Fräulein Agnessa has stated is fact and does not require verification. If, for reasons unclear to me, the court chooses to contest her testimony, we will be obliged to summon representatives of the Inquisition to review all parties involved. For if the court has uncovered falsehoods in her words, then order must be restored.”
At the mention of inquisitors, the judge flinched. For the love of all that is holy, not that! Because if they arrived, those polite executioners in their pristine white robes would string up everyone involved and start roasting their heels. They would interrogate what exactly was said, by whom, to whom, and whether any other sins were committed. The madwoman herself was of no concern—she'd gladly dance at the stake, hurling coals into the crowd and shouting profane verses. But he certainly didn't want to end up in a torture chamber himself.
“Yes, yes! It seems we may have misunderstood the maiden's statements... She was merely recounting facts that displeased the offended parties. An incorrect interpretation.”
“Wonderful, Your Honor! Then please record in the documents that my client merely stated facts that are known to all the good citizens of this city... Done? Very good. Then allow me to note that the original case of baseless accusations has now turned into one of defamation and slander.”
“Slander... Perhaps.”
“Your Honor, you have just confirmed that there has indeed been slander, used by these three individuals in an attempt to tarnish the reputation of Miss Agnessa. She merely spoke the truth, while unfounded accusations were hurled at her. Let me emphasize again—their malicious gossip, in which they obscenely criticized the work of the Brotherhood, the blood spilled for the good of society, and her sacred piety, amounts to heretical statements against the Mother Church, of which Agnessa is a representative. Although, I am still not entirely sure whether this is a case of stupidity or malice. If the former, then these three gentlemen seated beside me are simply fools. If the latter, we may indeed have to call upon those tasked with enforcing God's Word to restore order among the flock.”
The room was silent. The judge sat with his mouth agape, wide-eyed. Only now did he realize the trap he'd fallen into. Damn that legal trickster. One could easily break their neck in the tangle of confusing laws. But the fact that the nuns of the Brotherhood were sworn to truth-telling was undeniable. In many contentious situations, the nuns were used as witnesses for both prosecution and defense. If they had seen, heard, or been involved in something, the law enforcement agencies had perfect witnesses: those with sharp memories, keen ears, and fanatical devotion to righteousness. So, if Agnessa had called her offenders "fat-bottomed bitches," then so it was. After all, the junior clerk who had smashed through the shop's wall with his head truly had eaten his way into such a state—he could hardly fit through a door. Now it turned out that three idiots had insulted an official figure in a blood-red habit. And that could very well end in a stroll to the stake surrounded by kindling.
“You know... I am very grateful to you... Herr Eatz... It seems you have indeed uncovered a corruption we were unaware of... Therefore, I think we will need to reconsider this case in the coming days, and...”
“Oh, I am not insisting that the three scoundrels be immediately sentenced to hard labor or any other deserved punishment. That is up to you. However, I did also question the town guards, the tavern servers, and the patrons yesterday. Let me see here... Ah, yes. It is recorded that they boasted about their rewards, slandered the local order, conspired to rob another nun in a similar manner, and referred to the authorities—in your person—as a 'fat hog,' a 'drunkard,' and a 'debaucher'... Signatures of the witnesses, the signatures of their personal confessors, monastery seals. I ask that this document be added to the complaint.”
Snapping his mouth shut, Herr Erhard had no choice but to admit—yes. Three idiots. Unable to keep their mouths shut.
“Therefore, Your Honor, based on the newly revealed facts and in accordance with the law, I request a fine of one Reichsgulden for each profane word uttered against my client as compensation. The list of such words is in the case file and in the copy taken yesterday. I have counted them, and it comes to sixty-nine. Here are the prepared documents for the city treasury. How the honorable city of Ulm collects the fine from the guilty parties is up to your discretion.”
Tugging at his tight collar, the judge croaked, “Guards! Take these three to the basement! We will settle this tomorrow... All documents to the secretary, let him prepare the summary... I declare this hearing adjourned... And my sincerest apologies to the immaculate Miss Agnessa... Everyone is dismissed!”
“Shaved bitches,” Herr Erhard thought to himself. That pair might just find a way to extort gold from him too. What a cursed day...
***
They spent nine gold coins that evening, celebrating their fantastic victory. The Plague Midwife paid a tithe to the monastery treasury, and the rest of the money went to two local orphanages: firewood and coal for heating, new bedding, clothing, grains, and meat. Of course, the children there weren’t destitute—both institutions were under the Brotherhood’s care. But extra gold is never unwelcome, and there are always gaps to patch up.
Each morning, there was now a lively queue outside Eivan Eatz’s doorstep. You could say the first “advertising campaign” had successfully showcased their skills and brought in grateful clients. After all, laws are like that—if you dig deep enough, you can often turn any case 180 degrees. The key is to put in the effort.
***
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