Chapter 4

This story was originally written in my native language and translated into English with the assistance of AI. If you notice any errors or awkward phrasing, please let me know in the comments so I can fix them.

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A deep night had fallen over Clementia, but a lone figure, wrapped in a hooded cloak, slinked through the dark backstreets. Eliza climbed the hill where it was slightly easier to scale the town wall and pulled out a pre-prepared rope. After a long trek through the forest, she finally reached the wooden cabin, which looked utterly lifeless in the night mist. Three knocks, a pause, two knocks, a pause, three knocks—Hilda had a specific signal for every visitor so that if this information ever fell into the wrong hands, she could pinpoint exactly who had talked. The door creaked open, and the woman hurriedly stepped inside. The house greeted her with the pungent aroma of herbs and wood.

“Did I wake you?”

“No, I figured you’d be coming soon. The same as always?”

“Yes...”

“Take a seat,” Hilda pointed to a stool by the wall, while she approached a massive cupboard packed to the brim with clay pots and linen bags. “I just recently gathered a fresh harvest.”

“Thank you...” Eliza smiled warmly, huddling into her cloak.

Hilda snorted and began measuring out herbs and seeds on a scale.

“Is your period heavy?”

“Yes, very. Truthfully, I never know when it’s going to start.”

“That’s good. Anything else?”

“Also... my hands are often cold, and my stomach hurts.”

“Then I’ll put some strengthening herbs in a separate bag for you. Don't mix them up.”

“I won't...”

Eliza watched, as if spellbound, as Hilda deftly and skillfully ground seeds in a mortar. A few candles lit the house with a soft golden glow, and dozens of strings of drying herbs hung over the workspace like garlands, creating a cozy atmosphere. The table itself was so cluttered there was hardly room to breathe—piles of drying nuts on rags sat next to the morning’s soup, and bark decoctions stood beside jars of berry jam, so that the line between food and medicine almost vanished.

“You’re giving this potion to the wrong person, oh, the wrong one,” Hilda muttered.

“What?”

“I’m saying, this is like a poison you’re using to slow-kill yourself. One day, your body won't be able to take it...”

“What else am I supposed to do? I hate that man, I hate him! Every time he walks into the bedroom at night, I want to die, I want to claw the skin off where he touched me! How can I bring a miserable child into this world, one that its own mother will only look upon with loathing?!” Eliza almost screamed, her voice cracking with despair.

“Quiet down, you’re making a scene,” the herbalist hissed at her reproachfully. “As if I don’t know... My own mother spent her whole life with a parasite who did nothing but suck the life out of her. But why should you pay with your health for your husband’s cruelty?”

“He doesn’t drink, he doesn’t hit me, he doesn't stray, and he brings money home,” the woman sobbed, wiping a tear from her cheek with the sleeve of her cloak. “My mother keeps asking why I’m so cold to Zac when he takes such good care of me...”

“Oh yes, of course, your husband is a saintly man who just loves his wife so dearly that he uses her as a toy for his pleasure the moment he sees her,” Hilda’s words dripped with venomous sarcasm.

“Zac says that one must perform their marital duty regularly, otherwise, long abstinence makes it easy to fall into temptation...”

“Duty or no duty, if he had a shred of conscience, he wouldn’t force a woman who doesn't want him. Does he even see you as a human being or just a damn thing? Just go and brew him your whole month's supply at once, and you’ll have your peace.”

“What are you talking about?” The mere thought filled Eliza with horror.

“Did I say something wrong?” Hilda struck the board with her knife with extra force, as if the root were Zac himself. “Instead of continuing to cripple yourself, just get rid of the root cause. You’ll live as a respectable widow—wouldn't that be wonderful? Seriously, think about it!”

“How can you speak of it so lightly?! Killing a person... you can't do that!”

“Oh, I think killing people is bad too, but Zac doesn't act like a person at all. More like...” Hilda paused for a moment, “a lustful animal driven by instinct?”

“You and your jokes,” the woman huffed indignantly, turning away to hide the chuckle that was forcing its way out. “Aren't you afraid I’ll actually do it and then tell everyone you sold me the poison?”

“Could happen. But I wouldn't let that go unanswered. Are you sure you want all your secrets to become public knowledge?” Hilda asked playfully, a challenge in her eyes.

“Right, I completely forgot that the Lady Witch has blackmail on every client,” Eliza smirked, softening.

“That’s more like it. Here, take this. A pinch of this one, and a small handful of that—this mix is just for strengthening. Go now. If you leave now, you might still catch some sleep before your husband returns.”

The woman pulled out a handful of small coins.

“This is for last time and part of this time. I’m sorry, I’ll bring you the rest next week. Zac has been giving me very little money lately; there's hardly any change left over.”

“Bring it when you come for a new batch. Don’t come specifically for the money; don’t take unnecessary risks.”

Hilda saw Eliza out and bolted the door securely from the inside. Then, she pulled a small chest with her modest savings from a hiding spot and began to count the coins with almost meditative pleasure.

“Looks like I’ll be having another feast this week.”