Winterberg-Züschen (51.139414 | 8.494376)

Right - wrong - right

Staging of a medieval courtroom in a remote forest clearing near the historically documented site.

The weather alone is a punishment. As I set off from Züschen, it's drizzling lightly. Then heavier rain. I think, okay, it could be worse. And it gets worse: I get lost in the forest looking for the court. When I finally reach a small hill, the sky changes color from grey to black and a snowstorm breaks out. I seek shelter between the nearby beech trees. It gets dark in the middle of the day, gusts of wind shake the branches and I feel a chill run down my spine. The thought occurs to me: what a perfect setting for this place! The contours of the seven maple trees surrounding the square are blurred in the twilight, I am all alone. In this complete seclusion and silence, it is easy to conjure up ancient images:

An April morning in 1458, the day of judgment. In the middle of the square, a mighty, gray block of stone forms the judge's table. The baron places two objects on the slab, a sword and a rope, wordlessly and with deliberate movements. The lay judges stand in a semi-circle around him, each of them saying the ritual salute while he places his right hand on his left shoulder: It is clear to the seven: it is a matter of life or death. They are the ones in the know, they have been sworn in, a great responsibility rests on them. They know that if one of them reveals the court, his place, his punishment, he too will be hanged.

The small fish, the minor offenses are tried in the village. It is different in this place, far away in the forest and under the open sky. God have mercy on anyone who is ordered here! A man is brought before the stone judge's table. The farmer is charged with murder, he is said to have stabbed his neighbor to death. A "vemwrogiges" crime, it belongs before the Feme. If he has sworn witnesses among the aldermen who testify to his innocence, there is a chance that he will escape alive. But the trial shows: He did not. The baron pronounces the death sentence.

A ray of sunshine brings me back to the present. The cloud cover has cleared. It suddenly gets warmer and my jacket dries. I crouch down on one of the flat stone blocks scattered across the clearing, hinting that someone was sitting in judgment here. Questions arise: What does justice actually mean to me? Is life fair? Is there such a thing as divine justice? Or are judgments always human, embedded in time, place and culture? I sit down on the other stone squares. Each one allows a different perspective. I can feel the despair of the accused; the jurors' wish that peace be restored to the village; the inner struggle of the free count, who knows his power over life and death and wants to do everything right. There is room for very contradictory feelings in the open-air courtroom.

As I walk back towards Züschen, I think about what I have experienced. There were many horror stories about the Feme in the Middle Ages. The rules of secrecy fueled people's imaginations. There were rumors of arbitrariness and abuse of power, of torture and imprisonment. Organized cruelty. Today, historians know that there was corruption and abuse of power. But the number of death sentences was rather low. Those sentenced could appeal to other courts of acquittal. There were rituals and rules, a struggle for law and justice. The aim was to maintain peace in the village communities. The Ten Commandments were also to be enforced by secular means.

Perhaps, I think as I step out of the forest and the first half-timbered houses become visible, the Middle Ages were not as dark as they are always said to have been. People wanted justice back then too. Even then, there were attempts to put an end to the law of the jungle and to curb violence. Feme was one of them.

Author: Michael Gleich