The Witch Hunter

by Candace Adams

  “Hello?” I heard the words, but it sounded like I was under water. I felt hands on me. Someone was moving me. I felt my arm be lifted away, and then my hair brushed to the side. Such gentle fingers; I have no fear of the person touching me. I heard a sharp intake of breath. Oh God. Have I been injured? Is there blood? I mustered all the strength I could and managed to open one eye then the other. Everything was blurry at first but then, slowly, it all came into focus.

  “How did you get here?” the man looking down at me asked wrapping his warm cloak around my body. By the looks of him, I had been dropped off at a reenactment festival.

  His green eyes bore into me with concern but there was something about them that shook me. I felt as though I had looked into them a thousand times before. They had a calming effect on me I couldn’t understand. I had no idea where I was or what had happened to me. I should have been hysterical but looking at him, I felt like I was okay.

  “I have no idea how I got out here,” I said to him. “That woman though. She had something to do with this. She threatened me. She trapped me, and then I passed out.”

  I could clearly remember walking into the bathroom, and then the woman trapping me against the wall. I remembered the way her eyes seemed to glow as everything around me got darker and darker. I remembered feeling as if I was leaving the world, and I remembered the feeling of my body being trapped unable to move, unable to speak or cry out.

  A crease formed on his forehead as he considered my words carefully. “A witch,” his words were so quiet I almost missed them. “You’re claiming you were the victim of a vile creature.”

  If he was an actor, he was very good. He didn’t seem to be playing a part, it felt like this was really him.

  “Witches aren’t real,” I said. “Well, not the spell casting kind. Wicca is a very real religion. The women who believe in it don’t do magic though. They just chant and collect herbs for salves. They worship the moon and mother nature. The religion isn’t about devil worship or being evil.”

  He scoffed and shook his head at me. “Oh, they are real, I assure you. We have one tied to the back of our carriage and we are on our way to collect more as we speak.” He raised a hand and pointed behind us.

  I followed his hand to look where he was indicating behind the carriage. The back of the coach was blocking most of the view, but I could see one dirty, bare foot and one foot wearing an old leather shoe. A bit of slack rope lay on the ground.

  He scooped me up, into his strong arms. I wrapped my arms around his neck for support and rested my head on his shoulder. His neck was softly fragrant, and I found myself inhaling his scent. Daisies? It was almost comical that a man so strong, with such sex appeal would smell like my favorite flower. He carried me to the carriage like a baby.

  The man sitting at the reigns eyed me suspiciously. “Taking on strays are you now, Matthew?”

  “None of your concern Henry,” the man holding me retorted. “It’s only your job to take us where we need to be, not to question what we do along the way.”

  He opened the door with one free hand, and I saw another man inside looking over paperwork. He looked up as the door was opened and scooted to the other side of the bench. The man holding me placed me down beside him. My bare skin against the seat, he tucked the edges of the cloak around me both warming me and concealing my nakedness.

  “So, she is alive then?” The other man quipped. “I don't know why you brought the witch in here. There is plenty of rope left to let her run behind the carriage with the other one.”

  He barely glanced up as I was deposited into the cabin.

  “She is alive, and she will ride in the carriage with us until I figure out what to do with her, John.”

  Matthew? John? Oh God! It couldn’t be Matthew Hopkins and his assistant John Stearne? There’s no way possible…. I’m going to pass out.

  Everything went black again.

  Chapter Six

  Matthew

  The woman we had plucked from the road had fallen unconscious again.

  “Henry, please take us back to the inn,” I said through the small opening to our driver.

  “The others can wait until tomorrow. In the meantime, I need to find out who this woman really is.”

  “It’s not my business, Sir, but the wench is likely just a witch herself. Sent to cast her evil spell on you,” he tilted his head at me and made the sign of the cross on his chest with his fingers.

  I took a moment to ponder that. How else would this woman have been in my dream not even an hour before I happened to find her on the road. Witchcraft was possible. However, I had felt something when I looked at her. When my skin had touched hers I had truly sensed her soul. I didn’t even know her name and yet, I felt responsible for her, like she was someone I needed to protect.

  “Pray tell, my friend,” I replied. “Why would a witch bring herself to our attention? I believe we have made enough of a name for ourselves that any witch would take great measures to keep away from us.”

  “Unless she were simply trying to bewitch you,” John said.

  There was a bump in the road and her sleeping form fell over onto my lap. I could feel her even breath warming my thigh and I brushed a few hairs out of her face.

  “Once again John, I fear there is no one you trust.”

  “As before, I learned that from you,” he sighed. “Must you deal with her today though? Might we just tie her up and put her in a room and continue collecting our quarry?” Once we began a hunt, my associate had only one thing on his mind.

  I didn’t respond to his question but tilted my head toward the back of the coach. “How is our witch doing back there?”

  He drew back the curtain to look at her.

  “Still running along. For a woman her age, I’m surprised we aren’t dragging her behind us,” he turned back and faced me. “Where are we keeping her until her trial?”

  “Colchester Castle,” I replied. “They have a dungeon under one of their towers where we can keep at least fifty prisoners.”

  He smiled, “Room enough to extract confessions?”

  “Yes. There is also a large lake on the property, so you can swim them if sleep deprivation and other methods don’t get results.”

  We sat in silence for the rest of the trip back to the inn. It gave me time to contemplate the woman lying beside me with her head in my lap. Her hair had the same soft wisps as I had dreamt about. Her pale, smooth skin and the shape of her soft, red lips was enticing. The cloak had slid down off her shoulders and I was gifted with the glimpse of the curve of a breast before I possessively pulled it back over her. I didn’t want John to see her. She felt like a precious gift that had been bestowed upon me. Maybe God was rewarding me for sending Satan’s servants back to the hellfire from whence they came.

  I ran my hand up and down her arm. It was mid fall and the weather was unseasonably cold. I didn’t wish her to catch her death. Her lips parted slightly, and a small moan escaped. My cock twitched in my trousers and I willed it to remain flaccid. Secretly, I hoped it was me she was seeing in her mind. But she had only just met me, and under less than grand circumstances. Maybe I should just pray it wasn’t a bad dream.

  The unconscious woman wrapped an arm around my lower leg and cuddled in. I knew she wasn’t aware of what she was doing, but I smiled. It felt so right.

  We arrived at the inn far too soon for my liking. John exited the coach first making room for me and headed to the rear to retrieve our witch.

  “Get up, lazy!” he yelled at her, kicking her with the toe of his boot.

  The witch had collapsed as soon as the carriage had come to a stop and seemed to be unconscious. He would not carry her, however. He simply untethered her rope and dragged her across the road to the city courthouse to store her till she could be transported to the Colchester tower.

  I took my mysterious treasure in my arms once again, ensuring that her nakedness was covered from prying eyes. I tucked her arms up against my ch
est held her close to my heart. I hoped the tavern would be empty, but when I walked in, I saw that the fates were not on my side. Everyone looked up at me as I carried her inside.

  “Is everything alright sir?” Harold asked.

  I turned in his direction, “Just fine, Harold.” I didn’t stop to chat further.

  She felt light as a feather into my arms. I could just see the tips of her toes sticking out beneath my cloak and her arms remained draped around my neck. I breathed in her scent as I took the stairs two at a time. She smelled of lavender fields after a fresh rain and it was glorious. I never cared for flowers. But now, I felt as if I couldn’t get enough.

  I pushed the door to my room open with my boot and closed it with my backside. Laying her out, carefully, on the bed, I went back and made sure the door was latched. After ensuring our privacy, I turned back and walked to her. I lifted her legs and pulled the blankets down beneath her. Averting my eyes to try to protect her modesty, I pulled the cloak away from her body while pulling the blankets up. She began to wake, and I watched her eyelids twitch. I fell to my knees beside the bed waiting for her to awaken. God, how was this woman affecting me this way? My breath was caught in my throat and my heartbeat quickened in my chest.

  “What? Where am I?”

  She was confused. I had to find out why she was on that road.

  I didn’t dare touch her, even though everything in me wanted to take her hands in mine and comfort her. I didn’t want to frighten her worse than she already was. “Hush,” I spoke to her in a low voice. “It’s ok. You’re ok now.”

  Her eyes widened and I saw my reflection in her pupils.

  “What the hell, why am I naked? Where are my clothes? Did you do something to me?” She swung out with her fist, she contacted my jaw a moment later.

  “Woman, calm yourself!” I took her wrists in my hands and restrained her. “No harm will come to you in this place.”

  She struggled against me hard at first. Then she began to calm down as she considered my appearance. What was so interesting about my visage?

  “My name is Matthew. What is your name?” I asked her. She tried to sit up causing the blanket to shift and slid precariously down her chest. I blushed, remembering her nakedness and turned my body away from her for privacy.

  “Matthew, who?” she asked defensively.

  “Matthew Hopkins.”

  Recognition lit her features. “You called the man in the carriage John. That would be John Stearne then?” she asked. “Your clothes!” she was panicking. The blanket was gripped tightly in her fist, up to her chin. "The woman said she was arranging a meeting. She meant you. She sent me back in time four hundred years.” Her eyes darted back and forth manically, and she pulled her legs up against her chest in fear.

  I put my hands up to show her I meant her no harm. I couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. Time travel? Four hundred years? Was she a lunatic?

  “Miss? Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”

  “No, I didn’t hit my head.” Tears ran down her porcelain cheeks that she wiped away quickly with the back of her hand.

  I laid my hands on the edge of the bed and she didn’t shy away. “How could what you say be true?” I asked her.

  She spoke to me through her tears, “I don’t know.” She took a deep breath and looked down at her white knuckles. “How will I ever get home.” It wasn’t a question. Just a sad realization that she was most likely here for good.

  “I’ll make sure you’re alright,” I told her.

  She looked at me incredulously. “You? Matthew Hopkins, the Witch Hunter General himself,” She shook her head from side to side, sadly. “I'm sorry, but that goes against every bit of research I’ve ever done on you.”

  I blinked twice. “What do you mean?”

  “I have been researching this time period for years. Everything I have found on you shows that you were a heartless man who traveled from city to city forcing women to confess to being witches by torturing them. History says you got paid a large sum of money to find as many witches as you could, and no one was safe from you.” She shivered. “How can I trust a man that would hang innocent people just to fund his own lifestyle? Seems more likely that you would arrest me than take care of me.”

  I was shocked and appalled. “Everything I do is for God himself. I am eliminating evil from this world by finding the witches and sending them back to the devil. The parishes that we save offer us the money. I have never demanded anything of them. Besides, John takes care of our finances.”

  I held eye contact with her and hoped she saw that I was telling her the truth. I had never, in my twenty-seven years, found myself on my knees for any woman, and yet for this one, I would remain on my knees for eternity. I wished I could put her at ease.

  “I read that you used retractable blades to pretend to puncture the accused’s ‘witches marks' to show everyone that they did not bleed and felt no pain.” She said. “Why would you lie to get people to believe that they were witches if you were only doing God’s work?”

  This perplexed me. “Retractable blades?” I asked.

  “Yes. The blade would slide back into the hilt when applied to a woman’s skin so that they were never actually punctured at all. It was all a farce.”

  “I have never seen a blade like this.” I said truthfully. I was just the face of it all. I took accusers’ statements and got the warrants from city officials. John extracted confessions. Once they confessed, I testified in court to their guilt, and I sent them to the gallows.

  “Please check the daggers, Matthew. How can you have it on your conscience that what I am saying could be true and not see for yourself. I think you are a much more intelligent man than to just take John's word for it. Imagine if he has been deceiving you this entire time? Even if you are not the person who is harming the women, allowing their harm is just as bad. I think that God would have nothing but wrath towards all of you for hurting them if they are, in fact, being set up by John.”

  Concern lit up her beautiful face, but not for herself. She was concerned for those arrested and being held for witchcraft. But her words shook me to the core. Was it possible that my friend had been lying to me this whole time. I wasn’t sure. But I knew how to find out. “I promise you I will find the truth of the matter and put your heart at ease.”

  “Where are my clothes?” she asked me, suddenly very aware that she had none. She began frantically looking over the edges of the bed and sliding her hands across the quilt. “I need my clothes.”

  “I don’t know. You had none when we came across your body on the road. But don’t worry, your back was to us. I covered you before anyone saw more than your ass.” She blushed a lovely shade of pink.

  “I really need to get dressed so I can get out of here.”

  “What do you plan to do?” I asked her. “Where do you plan to go? You can trust me, you know.”

  She looked at me questionably but seemed to make her mind up to accept my words.

  “I don’t know where I am supposed to go. I came here from the year 2020 and it looks like you may be right about witches, because one put a curse on me and sent me here.”

  She wasn’t a witch, but she was cursed by one. I certainly understood what witches were capable of, and she was a victim of their evil.

  “How do I find this witch?” I asked her.

  She shook her head in despair.

  “I have no idea. She was back in my time.” She put her head in her hands and exhaled loudly.

  “I will ask the innkeeper if his wife has a spare dress you can wear until we locate your clothes,” I started to stand from where I had squatted beside the bed.

  “Can you just get me a pair of pants and a shirt please? I really don’t care for dresses, and I’m already out of my comfort zone.”

  I laughed at her strange words. “Women don’t wear breeches. You must come from a very different time indeed.”

  “Thank you for not chain
ing me up and throwing me in the dungeon.”

  “I am a kind man,” I smiled at her. “Unless you’re a witch.” I added. Her stomach growled audibly, and she moved her hands to her stomach.

  “Can I get you something to eat?”

  “I am very hungry. We were waiting for food when all this happened. I never got to eat.”

  I got to my feet, grunting with exertion. “Wait here. I'll bring something up to you. I’m locking the door behind me. Don’t open it for anyone but me,” she nodded.

  I rushed down the stairs to the counter where Harold was pouring an ale for a man. A flurry of words poured out of my mouth. “Have you bread and cheese? Wine?”

  “Yes, Sir,” he yelled to the serving wench who was rushing around the room filling mugs. “Elizabeth, fetch Mr. Hopkins a tray of bread and cheeses and a jug of wine, and hurry.” She rushed off to do as she was asked.

  “Will you be requiring anything else, Sir?” Harold asked.

  “Two glasses please. Can you please have extra blankets sent to my room as well?”

  He grinned at me, “for your lady friend? She looked a wee bit tired.”

  “Just get me what I asked for. Oh, and I need a dress. Does your wife have one she would be willing to part with? I would pay you handsomely for it.”

  “We live in the cottage behind the inn. I’ll send the boy to ask the missus.” He whistled and a tall, teenaged boy came to the bar top.

  “Yes father?” the boy asked.

  “Samuel, go ask your mother for one of her dresses. Tell her Mr. Hopkins requires it. If she throws up a fuss, tell her I'll buy her any fabric she wants to stitch up a new one.”

  “Yes, father.” the boy rushed off.

  “He’s a good boy. Martha has plenty of dresses. She shouldn’t complain too much about losing one,” Harold said.

  “Thank you.”

  Elizabeth rushed over to me carrying a basket covered with a white cloth. Lifting the edge, she showed me a jug of wine with two glasses, a loaf of bread that was not yet stale, and a brick of cheese wrapped in cheesecloth.