Read Online Breath (9781439132227) by Donna Jo Napoli - Free Book Online

coven.”
    â€œGroßmutter doesn’t work for the devil,” says Melis. “We’re all good Catholics here. That bishop, Albert the Great, who lived and died in Köln, he made a list of which ancient practices were goodand safe, and which practices were dangerous. Pater Michael reads the list at Mass regularly. The coven’s acts are not condemned.”
    â€œOh, Pater Michael reads the list, all right,” says Bertram sarcastically, “but not every word. He skips any mention of things the coven does that it shouldn’t, the old hypocrite. He was a peasant before he became a priest. He likes all their mumbo jumbo, all of it. Father said so.”
    â€œWhat did Father say exactly?” asks Melis.
    â€œHe said our priest won’t banish pagan practices because there’s nothing to replace them with. The church lacks answers to too many things.”
    Melis looks like he’s been slapped in the face. He doesn’t speak.
    I feel like Melis must. I’ve listened to Pater Michael read the list, of course. And I also know that he skips parts of it, because Pater Frederick has warned me against practices that Pater Michael never mentions. Pater Michael doesn’t interfere with our coven’s practices no matter what may be on that list. It makes me nervous to admit Bertram is right. And it makes me more nervous to realize I am as big a hypocrite as Pater Michael, for I have refused to think about our priest’s loose ways. If I think about them, if I question them, I must question my own ways.
    â€œDont look so wretched, Melis.” Bertram shoves half a sausage link in his mouth. “What do you care whether or not the coven is condemned? Großmutter should face it and quit. Everything they do is a bunch of nonsense anyway.”
    â€œDon’t say that. We all used to revere the coven. It’s important to Großmutter.”
    â€œA lot of good it does her. She couldn’t even save her own daughter’s life, no matter how many stupid incantations the coven performed. The woman’s dotty in her old age. And the coven is nothing but riffraff.”
    â€œStop it,” I say, rising to my feet unsteadily.
    Bertram looks at me with a flash of anger in his eyes. Then he laughs. “The proof of the coven’s powers stands right here, on our floor.”
    â€œLet him be,” says Melis. “He’s still sick.”
    Bertram says nothing. He doesn’t have to; Melis made his point.
    I want to argue, but I can’t seem to find the right beginning. Our coven isn’t doing very well. We held a meeting and chanted charms against the rats, but they keep on coming into the houses, more and more of them.
    No, we aren’t strong. It’s the lack of a piper, I wager. We haven’t been able to dance since ourpiper died last winter, and so much of our power lies in dance.
    The memory of the piper in the woods makes me angry now. I should have tried harder to convince him to join us. I should always try harder. It s my fault things are going wrong. I sink to my knees.
    â€œI’ve been listening to talk about the dairy cows too,” says Ludolf quietly. “But I heard the milk is drying up because of foul winds from earthquakes down south.” His words are like balm; the raw anger of a moment ago is instantly gone. There’s no reason for it, it’s not like we all agree Ludolf is right. It just happens that way—it’s the close of the argument.
    The brothers turn their attention to eating the rest of breakfast with noisy lip smackings, and I’m almost wishing they’d leave me some sausage, for I’m getting hungry. I’m sitting on my feet now, my hands pressing my belly.
    Großmutter comes inside. “Bertram, get the ax. We need to build a fire upwind from the cow barn. Ludolf, go find hassock. As much as you can hold. There should be plenty on the east side of the lagoon, over near