The Witch Hunter's Tale (20 page)

“That is why I asked,” she said. “As midwife and deputy, we should not contradict each other.”

“I’ll tell the truth,” I replied. I knew so vague an answer would not satisfy her in the least. “I’ll tell the jury what I saw. I cannot say if the child’s death was natural or if he had been bewitched.” Even as I spoke, I could imagine the reaction of Lucy Pierce’s gossips when I did not fully agree with their accusations. If I were not careful, the mothers in Upper Poppleton would turn to another midwife. “But in the end the trial will not hinge on my words or yours.”

“It will be Rebecca Hooke’s,” Martha said.

“Aye,” I replied. “Between the gossips, Rebecca Hooke, and her own malicious carriage, Mother Lee’s fate is sealed no matter what we say.”

As I expected, when we crossed the bridge into the Castle yard, we found it a hive of activity. Members of the Town Watch stood about awaiting instructions, while boys raced between buildings, wax-sealed papers in hand, cloaks billowing behind them. A few shopkeepers had already built their stalls and they cried out their wares as we passed. Martha and I fought our way through the crowd toward Samuel’s tower. Since he held Mother Lee, it seemed likely that he’d know when and where she would be tried.

Tree greeted us when he opened the tower door, and he quickly relieved us of our baskets of food. I knew that they would be considerably lighter—and he would be much the fatter—by the time he returned them, but there was little in the world that I could deny him.

Samuel called out a greeting as he descended the stairs, struggling under the weight of an overfull bucket of waste. “I know you were thinking about quitting midwifery for the life of a jailor,” he said, “but I should tell you that it is not all gold coins and dinner with the Lord Mayor.” He put the bucket by the door and turned to Tree. “Boy, empty this in the jakes before you eat.”

Tree wrinkled his nose at the smell but did not object.

Once he’d gone, Samuel turned to me. “I imagine you’re here for Mother Lee,” he said.

“Aye,” I replied. “I received my summons this morning. They are in quite a hurry to begin the trials. Have you heard other news?”

“That is why I sent Tree out,” Samuel replied. “The judges are moving forward with Will’s trial. It will start within a week.”

I stared at Samuel, my mouth agape. I could see the blood run from Martha’s face.

“A week?” I cried. “How so?”

“It is a blessing he has that long,” Samuel replied. “Joseph wanted to hold the trial today, but the judges denied him. They said they had been summoned to try witches, and would have those cases first. Thank God for small mercies.”

“And thank God there will be no trials on the Sabbath,” I agreed. “We have a few days at least.”

“A few days?” Martha cried. “What can we accomplish in that time?” Her eyes darted about the room, as if the keys to Will’s freedom were hidden somewhere within. “God only knows what evidence Joseph has conjured. You know that if Will is tried he will hang! What will we do?” She nearly shouted these last words. I tried to put my arms about her, but she shook me off and began to pace the room.

“We will save him,” I replied, though in truth I did not see how we would. “We must.”

“To hell with the trial,” Martha replied. “I’m leaving. They can hang Mother Lee without me.” She threw open the tower door and started across the Castle yard.

“If the bailiffs come looking for me, tell them you don’t know where I am,” I said to Samuel and raced after her.

I caught up with Martha, and together we hurried toward the gate. I did not know what she intended, but the look in her eyes told me that she would not be stopped for anything in the world. That is what I thought, at least, until Matthew Greenbury appeared before us, resplendent in the Lord Mayor’s finery. To my dismay, Joseph Hodgson stood at his side and Mark Preston loomed behind them both.

“Good morning, Lady Bridget,” said Greenbury with a bow. “It is a pleasure to see you.” I searched the leathery contours of his face for some sign of insincerity. Despite James Hooke’s belief that Joseph had arranged George Breary’s murder, the sight of the Lord Mayor reminded me that he, too, had his reasons to see George dead.

“Good morning, my Lord Mayor,” I replied. “I trust the winter cold is not discomforting you overmuch?”

The Lord Mayor smiled thinly. “It is hard on these old bones, but the Lord has his reasons, doesn’t He, Mr. Hodgson?” He cast a glance toward Joseph, who nodded solemnly and muttered something that sounded like
Amen
. “What brings you to the Castle?” Greenbury continued.

“My deputy and I have been summoned to testify in a witchcraft trial,” I replied. Even as I spoke, my mind raced to find a way to explain our hurried departure. “But it seems the trial will not be held until the afternoon. We will return then.”

“Oh, dear, I am so sorry for the inconvenience,” Greenbury said. His disappointment seemed genuine, but I could not be sure.

Joseph stepped forward and whispered a few words in the Lord Mayor’s ear. I could not hear them, but my stomach sank, for I knew they could not work in our favor.

“Excellent idea, my boy,” the Lord Mayor cried, and beckoned for one of his men. “Tell the sergeant that we will try Mother Lee first.” The man nodded and hurried toward the Warden’s offices. “It will take some time, but we will search out the other witnesses and try your case this morning,” Greenbury announced with a smile. “Come and sit with me until we are ready to begin. It has been too long since we talked.”

I risked a glance at Martha and saw panic rising within her. “Thank you, my Lord Mayor,” I responded. What else could I say?

“The sooner we can dispose of this matter, the better,” Greenbury continued. “And with you and Mr. Hodgson here at the Castle, nothing of import can happen in the city, can it?” The Lord Mayor chuckled at his own flattery. I could offer only the thinnest of smiles.

So Martha and I joined the crowd crossing the Castle yard to the courtroom where we would await Mother Lee’s trial.

*   *   *

To their credit, the Lord Mayor’s men gathered the witnesses against Mother Lee far more quickly than I would have thought possible, and in only an hour the witnesses, bailiffs, and jurymen gathered in the hall. Dried flowers had been strewn on the floor to prevent the spread of gaol-fever, so—for the moment at least—the room smelled curiously of spring.

The judge sat at an elevated table and peered at the crowd gathered before him. If the Lord Mayor qualified as aged, the judge was positively ancient.

“My god, where did they find such a huddle-duddle?” Martha whispered. “It’ll be a miracle if he lives through the trial.”

“They were in a hurry, I suppose,” I replied. “And not in a position to be particular.”

The judge looked around the room as if he was not entirely sure why he was there or what he should do next. Joseph apparently saw the same thing, and he crept to the judge’s side to whisper something in his ear. The judge nodded his approval, picked up a small wooden silence, and knocked it on the table three times before the hammer fell from his hand. A few men glanced at the bench, but the hubbub continued unabated. Martha covered her mouth to hide a smile.

“He is a clownish one to be sure,” I said. “But who do you think will be the true master of these trials?”

Martha’s smile disappeared. “He’ll do Joseph’s bidding.”

“Aye. Joseph has planned every step in his journey, from the pamphlets to hiring Rebecca as his Searcher. Of course he’ll find a malleable judge to oversee the trials.”

“And if he’s the one who oversees Will’s trial…,” Martha said. I could hear the fear in her voice.

I finished her dreadful thought. “He’ll demand that the jury return a guilty verdict.” Though I had never seen the practice myself, I had heard of judges who kept the jurymen without food for days on end until they rendered the desired verdict. While such cases were rare, I had no doubt that Joseph would bend the law to meet his ends.

“Quiet!” a voice cried. “The court is in session!”

My pulse raced as Mark Preston strode toward the jury, his mere presence threatening great violence against those who did not heed his words. The jurymen, and everyone else in the room for that matter, fell into complete silence.

The judge looked up at Preston as if surprised to see him, but he said nothing. With an exasperated sigh, Joseph crossed the room and whispered in the court clerk’s ear.

“The first case we will hear is that of Mother Lee,” the clerk announced. “The charge is the most damnable sin and crime of witchcraft.”

A door behind the bench opened, and two bailiffs led Mother Lee, shackled hand and foot, into the courtroom to begin what would be her last day on earth.

Chapter 16

Mother Lee’s time in gaol had done her no favors. Though some life remained in her eyes, she was far more pinched and gaunt than when I’d last seen her. When she entered the room she inspected the faces of the jurymen and the judge before turning her gaze on the rest of us. Perhaps she hoped to find a friend or a neighbor who had not turned against her. One of the bailiffs nudged her, and she shuffled forward, her shackles clanking and scraping as she crossed the room. I could not help noticing the cuts and scabs on her wrists where her aged flesh had been scraped raw and bleeding. Mother Lee turned to face the judge, who stared back, utterly unsure of what to do. Joseph climbed up onto the bench and gave the judge his orders.

“The clerk should charge the accused,” the old man said.

The court clerk stepped forward and announced the grand jury’s charges against Mother Lee, that by witchcraft she had murdered Lucy Pierce’s infant son.

“What is your plea?” the clerk asked.

“Not guilty.” Mother Lee’s voice echoed through the hall with surprising strength.

I did not for a moment think the plea meant much. The trial was not about determining guilt or innocence. It was a play to show all the world, and God as well, that the city’s magistrates had taken up arms against Satan and were marching under the Lord’s standard.

“The first witness!” The judge’s voice creaked like a wooden axle one turn from breaking.

The prosecutor stepped forward. His clothes made clear his wealth, and he preened before the crowd like a peacock: a fine wool cloak layered over a blue silken doublet, leather boots in the latest style, turned down just below the knee to show expensive silk stockings. He was quite a creature. The first few witnesses were Mother Lee’s neighbors from Upper Poppleton. Some had been present when I delivered Lucy Pierce, and some had not, but all told the same story. Mother Lee had long been suspected of trafficking with the Devil. She had cursed her neighbors’ crops, their cows, their sheep, their butter churns, their ale pans. And finally, she had bewitched Lucy Pierce’s son, and he died even before he’d been born. Lucy herself told the jury of this crime, and they hung on every word as if it might be the last they’d ever hear.

And then it was my turn. I strode to the front of the room and stood next to the bench. I had no illusions that I could do anything to change the course of the proceedings, but my heart hammered in my chest all the same.

“Lady Hodgson,” the prosecutor began. “You delivered Lucy Pierce of a stillborn child, did you not?”

“Yes,” I replied. Better to say as little as possible, I thought.

“How would you describe the child?”

I knew the answer he sought, of course. He wanted me to say that the child’s death had been unlike any I had ever seen, and thus unnatural. If he could show the jury that the child’s death had been unnatural, he’d have won the day; witchcraft was the only other possible cause.

“Mrs. Pierce had reached her full term,” I replied. “The child had his fingernails, which happens just before birth.”

The prosecutor grimaced. He’d been hoping for a bit more cooperation from me. I could also see some of Lucy Pierce’s friends looking at each other and whispering behind their hands.

“Have you ever seen a birth such as Mrs. Pierce’s?” the prosecutor asked.

“A stillborn birth? Of course. I’ve been a midwife for many years, and attended hundreds of women in their travail. It is the Lord’s will that some children live while others die.” The prosecutor seemed to have developed a twitch near his left eye. He looked at Joseph, unsure how to proceed. Joseph’s only reply was a slight shrug.
I warned you about her,
it seemed to say.

“Lady Hodgson, was the death of Lucy Pierce’s child natural or unnatural?”

“It was the Lord’s will,” I replied. “The devil can do nothing on this earth without His permission.”

The prosecutor furrowed his brow at my answer. While it was undoubtedly true (for who would deny God’s omnipotence?), it did turn the jury’s eyes away from Mother Lee. After a moment’s consideration, he crossed the room to consult with Joseph. He whispered in Joseph’s ear and nodded in Martha’s direction.

Joseph’s eyes bulged.

“No, you shouldn’t call her. Not if you have a brain in your head,” he hissed. “She’s worse than her mistress.”

I had to suppress a smile.

“Thank you, Lady Hodgson, that is all,” the prosecutor said. He did not sound particularly thankful. I returned to Martha’s side, and she offered a hint of a smile.

“Mrs. Rebecca Hooke!” the bailiff called out, and I felt my stomach drop. Of course she would appear—she had searched Mother Lee’s body—but I had been so concerned with my own testimony I’d not thought on it.

Rebecca strode forward from the rear of the hall and took her place where I’d stood just moments before.

“You inspected the body of the accused witch, did you not?”

“Yes, my lord, I did,” Rebecca replied. Her voice echoed strong and clear through the hall.

“And what did you find?”

“It was a difficult search, my lord,” Rebecca replied. “At first she refused to be inspected.” She paused to let the jury consider what such resistance might mean. Would an innocent woman refuse to be searched? “When we stripped her bare, I found three long teats in her secret parts. They seemed to have been sucked of late.”