Chapter 13: Forgiving Her Is God's Business

The next morning, as the sun had just risen, the last traces of the previous days’ rain had finally dried beneath its rays. The rare spell of good weather made the townsfolk of Chano Denza feel that this day was unlike any other.

Their thoughts inevitably drifted to the events of the day before, and without hesitation, the townspeople gathered outside the Caro residence.

Two knights who had stood guard through the night remained at their posts before the door, their nerves taut, ever vigilant against any rash action from the crowd.

The townspeople loitered outside Caro’s home, whispering amongst themselves. At the edge of the gathering, old Sister Agnes stood, her gaze fixed on the house, sharp and venomous.

She had not slept a wink all night, instead cursing that accursed priest and Helena without pause.

“That filthy whore must have spent the night with that priest,” she muttered to herself. “She has the face of the devil, luring others into hell. And that priest is a demon too, always bewitching people’s hearts.”

Some of the townsfolk nearby instinctively edged away from her, fearful.

Though everyone knew old Sister Agnes was known to treat the sick, Leo’s appearance the previous night had inevitably set their minds to wondering.

Why would the old sister never allow anyone to observe her treatments?

Why did strange sounds of whipping sometimes come from her house?

Why did so many patients sent to her care so often end up dead?

These questions coiled in the minds of the townspeople.

Their doubts did not linger long without an answer.

The door to Caro’s house swung open.

A young maiden appeared before the crowd. Though she looked a little thin, her beauty could not be concealed. Her long black hair, fair skin, and the soft curves visible even beneath her dress—she was lovely indeed.

But it was not her beauty that drew the townspeople’s attention now, but her healthy complexion and lively demeanor.

“Helena has recovered!”

At the first exclamation, a wave of cheers erupted. To these simple folk, this was nothing short of a miracle.

“Helena’s truly well again!”

“God’s grace is upon us!”

“That priest is truly remarkable!”

As the townspeople praised him enthusiastically, Leo finally emerged.

Holding his cross aloft, he raised it above his head in an attitude of utmost devotion.

At the sight, all conversation ceased. The townspeople mirrored Leo, folding their hands in prayer.

“Lord, do not let your glory fall upon me!” Leo lifted his gaze heavenward, as if God Himself might be looking down.

“All this is the glory of the Lord. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen—”

“Amen—” echoed the townsfolk, crossing themselves, joined even by Corrado and Enrique, who bowed their heads.

What seemed a miracle to the townsfolk was, to Leo, nothing of the sort. Surviving a course of treatment from old Sister Agnes—that, he thought, was the real miracle.

When the brief prayer ended, Leo turned to the crowd.

“Townsfolk! Last night, I discovered the truth! Sister Agnes is a witch sent by Satan to torment us! Jealous of your happy lives, she brought sickness and tormented you with cruel black magic…”

His voice quivered with pain and righteous indignation, as if he truly shared their suffering.

Helena, too, bowed her head, recalling the torments she had endured just days before.

“Helena, tell them of your ordeal.”

Startled to be singled out, Helena looked up in surprise, her gaze meeting that of the expectant crowd. Nearly every eye was on her, waiting for her to speak.

She faltered, shy and uncertain.

But just then, Leo placed a reassuring hand on her back, and she felt a surge of inexplicable courage.

“Sister Agnes… she abused me. She forced me to take emetic herbs, made me wear only thin sackcloth, and kneel on the floor in prayer. When I begged to leave, she beat me with branches…”

As she spoke, Helena raised a hand to wipe her tears, her sleeve falling back to reveal the raw red welts on her arm.

With the evidence laid bare before them, the townsfolk erupted in outrage.

“Then my father must have…”

“That’s impossible! It must be the devil’s work!”

“Yes, but Sister Agnes did cure a few people…”

The crowd was divided, the entire town nearly split into factions. As the arguments mounted, Leo quickly raised his cross.

At the sight, the townspeople fell silent once more.

Leo spoke, “Just because a wolf wears the fleece of a sheep, does it make him a sheep?”

“I always said she was a fraud! Agnes is a liar!” someone shouted from the corner.

A lame youth hobbled into view. The townsfolk stared in shock. They all knew him—after all, everyone in this small town knew each other. This boy had once suffered a terrible illness in winter. After being treated by the old sister, he’d come out crippled, his spirit broken.

“She did this to me… And you all said I was mad! I’m not mad! Father, I’m not mad!”

Panic swept through the crowd. No one knew what to believe. They were like headless chickens, running in confusion.

“Bring Sister Agnes out to face us!”

At someone’s shout, all eyes turned to the corner where the old sister had stood.

But she was gone.

Had she not fled, perhaps some townsfolk would have remembered her past kindnesses and blamed only her lack of skill compared to Leo.

But her flight sealed their suspicions.

The townspeople scattered, launching a witch-hunt through Chano Denza.

Caro was the most fervent of all.

As Helena’s father, he was consumed with hatred for Sister Agnes. If not for that wretched woman, he had nearly lost his daughter, he thought bitterly.

Gathering his friends and relatives, Caro led a group armed with pitchforks and axes straight for Sister Agnes’s house.

Bursting through the door, they found the old sister hurriedly packing her belongings.

At the crash, she spun around, terror-stricken. Watching the mob draw near, she collapsed to the floor, scrambling backward in desperation.

“Caro! Caro! I treated your son too! You mustn’t forget what I did for you! Caro!”

But Caro would not listen.

All he saw was the filthy, stinking room, the bed crawling with maggots, the floor littered with instruments more suited to torture than to healing, and the rods used to beat the sick.

Evidence, all of it.

Each piece, a knife twisting in Caro’s heart.

His wife and children had been tormented in such a place…

With a thick arm, he seized the old nun by the collar and hauled her upright, his face twisted with fury.

“You murdered my son! My wife! You witch! Damn you!”

He spat in her face, then smashed the handle of his axe into her nose with a sickening crack.

A shrill, piglike scream burst forth, only stoking Caro’s rage.

He grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head against the wall, while the townsfolk who had followed him joined in, kicking and punching, venting years of pent-up resentment.

For years, their families had sent loved ones to the old sister’s care.

So few had survived.

Now, with the truth out, they finally understood why.

She had killed them.

But as the beating continued, Caro suddenly intervened, holding back the others.

The townsfolk looked at him, puzzled.

“Townsfolk! It was Father Leo who helped us! He said he would judge this witch, so we must hand her over to him. He will give us justice!”

At this, the mob dropped their weapons and unclenched their fists.

Yes, a just judgment.

They looked to Leo, not far away. His two knights were erecting a wooden pole in the center of the village and piling firewood at its base.

“Take her over there!”

At Caro’s command, the half-dead old sister was dragged away.

When she was brought before Leo, he barely recognized her, her face so battered and sunken.

“What a beating,” Leo murmured, squinting at her. He felt a faint relief—at least she wasn’t dead, or his work would have been for nothing.

“If I hadn’t stopped them, they would have killed her,” Caro said. “But, Father, I beg you to judge her. You are God’s messenger, the most just and wise in the world. Please, help us.”

He moved to kneel, but Leo quickly supported him.

As he helped Caro to his feet, he saw the tears streaming down the man’s face.

“She killed my second son… and nearly my daughter… I hate her, Father, I hate her!”

Caro’s grief was raw and shattering. If Leo had not steadied him, the man might have collapsed. He cared nothing for pride—his sorrow and rage poured forth like a dam bursting.

Seeing this, Leo nodded gently.

Corrado and Enrique stepped forward, carrying the old sister and binding her to the stake.

Leo turned to the people of Chano Denza. Their eyes burned with fury and resentment, desperate for release.

“I understand your pain. God is merciful.” Leo placed a hand on Caro’s shoulder, and Caro looked up in shock, uncertain of his meaning.

God is merciful—was he going to pardon the witch?

Or was he, in the name of God, going to let the woman responsible for so many deaths go free?

The townsfolk behind Caro grew restless, gripping their weapons with renewed determination. If Leo could not give them justice, they would take it themselves.

“Forgiveness is for God,” Leo declared, his voice ringing clear above Chano Denza. “We have no need to forgive. We need only send her to meet God.”

The words echoed through the air, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

They had long since tired of false priests and the deceit of the old sister. Forgiveness had never entered their minds—only vengeance.

And Leo, as God’s messenger, had granted them that vengeance.

How could they not rejoice?

“Come, Caro,” Leo said, producing a torch from somewhere and handing it to him.

Caro looked at the torch in his hand, then at the old sister bound to the stake and the pile of wood at her feet. In that instant, he understood.

But this time, he felt neither fear nor reverence.

“My poor son, little Sergio… beloved Anna… I have failed you…”

Murmuring the names of his wife and children, Caro turned to glance at his daughter.

He saw Helena standing beside Leo, radiant with health, and his heart filled with peace.

Then, turning back, he cast the torch onto the pyre.