“Sir?” one of the guards asked.
“Oh nothing. Just speculation.”
“Well, no one could have gotten in here without a guard seeing them. That would be impossible. So, there is no way she could have had anything to do with it,” the second man said.
One of the guards picked up a white, wool blanket that had been folded and set aside that I hadn’t noticed before. He opened it wide in the hall and I joined him in the room to retrieve the girl. He tied the girl’s arms in place with a bit of twine to keep them from flailing about while we moved her. I pulled her feet together and he tossed me a bit of twine to secure them as well.
“Poor girl has seen enough evil in this life,” he said.
Her body made a strange noise as we hefted it off the floor and the blood that had dried beneath her was pulled away from the stone. The long locks of her hair were especially stuck and some of it tore free from her wretched little head and stayed in the sticky mess. We deposited the girl into the center of the wool blanket and swaddled her like babe, except we covered her face as well. We secured the blanket with more twine and left the bundle in hall while we focused on the room itself.
We rolled our sleeves up to our elbows, fetched buckets and filled them with water and took them back with us. Brushes and rags had been laid out for us on the stones outside her room. The guards on clean up duty hesitated outside her room, with their buckets in hand.
“Well, what’s the hold up?” I asked.
“The men are afraid that if they remove the writing in blood that they will be cursed by whatever is written there.”
“That’s ridiculous. It’s just writing. Nothing more. Nothing will befall you for taking it down except you’ll need a good washing afterwards,” I told them heading in. Emboldened by my bravery, they followed me inside.
It took us several hours, and endless amounts of water, but it eventually ran clear when we rang the rags out over the buckets. The ceiling had been a challenge, but we managed to clean up all the blood. To the outside eye, it would look as if no crime had ever been committed here at all.
“What do we do with the body?” I asked.
“A grave has already been dug for her behind the castle where the rest of the no name prisoners have been buried after death,” one of the guards said.
I picked the bundle up and threw it over my shoulder. She barely weighed anything. Must have been significantly lighter with all her blood drained out. I could have carried her forever and never gotten tired. The cell door was locked up tight after all her blankets and such had been collected to be disposed of.
“Does it really need to be locked?” I asked. “There is no one in there to escape.”
“All cells get locked, whether they are occupied or not.”
I followed the men up the stairs and into the courtyard. Every person we passed, made the sign of the cross upon laying eyes on us. They all believed the child had been killed by unnatural forces and not a mere man. The story had been set well and would be used.
Matthew and Taryn were at the far side of the courtyard, standing and talking quietly to each other. They ceased talking when they saw me coming carrying the bundle that was the girl across my shoulders. They fell into step behind me as I followed the guards to the hole in the ground that was meant for her.
The tiny grave was surrounded by divots in the ground where others, like her, with no money to pay, had been buried. The difference was, the others had been executed after a trial and a guilty verdict. The child had just been executed. I was relieved though, that I hadn’t been asked to give any money for a box to put her in.
I deposited her tiny body into the hole. Everyone bowed their heads and crossed their bodies as was custom, but no one spoke for the girl. Not even Taryn who I expected to give a lengthy speech about youth cut short or some bullshit. She didn’t say a single word. I was grateful not to have much time wasted by a woman’s rabble. I had a lot of witches that still needed to be questioned.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Matthew
I caught up with Taryn outside the tower. She was in a terrible state, bent over and heaving again. I could understand why though. The sight of the blood covering the walls, and the terrible damage done to the child herself was truly egregious. How anyone could do that to such an innocent little babe and have no conscience about it was disturbing. A man who was capable of that kind of violence could do anything and feel no remorse.
“Taryn, are you ok?” I asked her. She was wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and trying to hide that she had tossed her stomach again.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“You don’t have to hide it. It’s not a weakness to be unsettled by what you saw. Some of the guards couldn’t keep it down either,” I told her.
“When are they going to bury her?” she asked.
I looked into her beautiful brown eyes and wished I could take all that pain I saw in them away. We should have taken the girl with us. She never should have been left in that cell like a criminal. The girl was an innocent and now she was beyond saving.
“As soon as the cell has been cleaned, she will be laid to rest,” I told her.
Taryn started to speak, but closed her mouth and gazed passed me. A sour expression came over her face. John exited the building with a small white bundle draped across his shoulder. He was following the four guards that had been in the cell with us. All five men were covered in blood. Only the white wool covering the body remained pristine.
We fell into step behind the procession as they passed and followed them to the grave site that had been dug for her. John dropped her little body inside the hole unceremoniously and brushed his hands off like he had just tossed a load of slop into a pig’s trough. I wanted to berate him for his treatment of her remains, but it was not the time for that.
I felt compelled to say words over her, to send her off to Heaven with kindness, but I couldn’t will myself to speak. I kept my silence.
Castle guards began filling in the hole with the dirt piles that surrounded it and soon all that remained of the child was a small hill of bare soil surrounded by lush green grass. After a few months, the earth would sink, the grass would return, and you wouldn’t be able to tell at all where she had been laid to rest.
“Now that she’s been taken care of, we have other matters to attend to Matthew,” John said.
Taryn shot him a look that said how insensitive he was being, but he looked right back at her, unapologetically.
“I’ll ask Henry to take me back to the inn,” Taryn said without breaking eye contact with John.
“You’re not staying for any of the interrogations?” I asked her.
She crossed her arms, still glaring. “I believe I have seen quite enough for today, actually.” Her voice was harsh when she responded to me.
I didn’t know what else I could do except agree with her. She moved in a stiff manner and the lips that were so soft to kiss were set in a thin scowl. “If that is how you will ii, then it so shall be,” I said.
Taryn stormed off in the direction of the stables without a backwards glance. The air was thick between John and I. My anger over last night had worn off some, but his lack of empathy today had kept matters fresh in my mind. I feared I didn’t know him anymore, and this new version of John scared me.
Before she was out of sight, Taryn turned back. “You had better go talk to that poor girl's mother, Matthew Hopkins.” She had venom in her voice. Her form vanished into the stables before I could muster a reply.
“What was she so bent out of shape about?” John asked me curiously.
“If you truly don’t know, I don’t believe I can explain it to you,” I said to him.
“Oh, come on. The girl didn’t even matter. She was just a soon to be orphan, of a witch, I might add, that would no doubt just grow up to be just the same. I don’t know why everyone is so upset. Good riddance if you ask me,” John crossed his arms over his chest. His mouth protruded
petulantly as he sulked.
“There is something really wrong with you, John. You should probably talk to the Father at the Church.”
He sighed and rolled his eyes simultaneously, throwing his arms up at my suggestion. “There isn’t anything wrong with me. You’ve just gone soft. I keep telling you this, but you can’t see it, your vision is too clouded.”
“My vision is just fine. We need to go and see Joan Fern.”
“Is it really necessary? I mean, she's a witch, do you honestly think she cares what happened to the girl?” he asked.
“She seemed to care quite a bit the last time we were questioning her,” I retorted.
“A clever ruse by an evil bitch to throw us off her vile scent. I still think she had the girl killed herself to protect her secret.”
I looked at him thoughtfully. “Do you really think a mother could kill her own babe like that?” I asked. Witch or not, it seemed outrageous to me that a mother could kill their own child, but what did I know of these things?
“I don’t think a witch is beyond most things. I think they will do anything their master asks of them. Including sacrificing their own children,” John said. “If the beast wills it, it will be so.”
“Even if you believe that to be true, we should still go and inform her. Maybe you can use this time to discern if she was the cause of Charlotte’s death by her reaction to the news.”
“Or maybe you're afraid to tell Taryn you didn’t tell the witch the girl is dead.”
“That’s not the case at all. It’s the right thing to do.”
“Let's get down there then. I want to get more of those bitches dealt with today so we can move them closer to the gallows and get out of this God forsaken town. Nothing good has come our way since we got here,” He stalked off towards the tower.
I didn’t agree with him, though. This is where I had found Taryn. It seemed that I was truly finding out who I was in this place, no longer on a blind hunt for evil, but an open-minded search for truth and justice. I still wanted to punish the people that spread evil, but thanks to Taryn and her insights, I now wanted to pay more mind to the actual people themselves and not just what had been said about them. More harm than good may have been done these past few years, and I hoped to atone for those sins in the future.
“You coming, Matthew? This was your idea after all,” John called to me from the stairwell. My feet were firmly planted where I was standing without me realizing; I had been so lost in my own thoughts.
I shook my head to clear my mind and went to meet up with him. “Yes, I'm coming. Sorry.”
We headed down the stairs together. He was rambling on about something, but I couldn’t focus on the words coming out of his mouth. John didn’t seem to notice; he was too wrapped up in whatever he was prattling on about to pay me much mind.
Turning the corner, the large holding cell stretched out before us. All the women moved back against the wall when we made our appearance. None of them wanted to be the one chosen for today's interrogation. “Oh, calm down, all of you,” John said to the cowering women. “Joan Fern.” he called out.
The old woman stepped forward. She moved very slowly, looking at John sideways as if afraid of what he had to say. “Ah, there you are. Ms. Fern, your daughter is dead. She had her throat slit in the cell down the hall last night and there was writing covering the walls in her blood. Would you like to admit your guilt now? We know you sent your familiar to kill her to keep your dark secret.”
I looked at him in disbelief. He showed no sympathy at all for a mother who had just lost her child. In that moment, I believed everything that Taryn thought about him. How long had he been this cold? How had I not noticed his descent?
The old woman fell to her bony knees and let out a howl like I had never heard another human make. It was a cry that was almost a scream; an inhuman howl. Her eyes bulged from her skull, the pupils a pinprick against a white background. This was the cry of a helpless person who just suffered a major loss. Not a murderer. I knew she was innocent; I could feel her pain and my heart ached for her.
“Save your lies, woman,” John said to her. “Just confess now and maybe God will have mercy and save your eternal soul.” Sobbing came from the large cell. The other women wept for her loss with her. Joan Fern wasn’t aware of them. She looked at John with her tears staining her wrinkled cheeks.
She broke her silence, “Yes, I am a witch. I did all of the terrible things that I have been accused of. I have danced with the devil and did his bidding for him.” She took a deep breath, bending her spine and she bowing her head. “I am responsible for my Charlotte’s death. I wish to be hung immediately. I do not wish to wait for a trial.”
I couldn’t believe she was confessing. From what I had seen, she most likely was guilty of witchcraft. However, I didn’t believe for a moment that she was guilty of killing her daughter. More likely, she didn’t feel she had anything else to live for after her daughter’s death and just wanted to go as well. She had fallen back to the floor and was hugging her knees to her chest. Her back was now to us, from the movement of her shoulders, I knew she was still sobbing.
“Who do you think you are that you can choose the time and place of your punishment? That is up to the judge after your hearing. You will not be choosing!” John screamed at the shriveled woman's back.
“John. That’s enough. You got her confession. Leave her be,” I had enough. His pitiless speech and lack of empathy was making me feel sick.
“You want to take pity on the creature?” He asked me. “She killed her own child, she deserves none.”
“I don’t wish to waste any more of our time on her. Can’t you see she has been beaten? Any extra attention you bestow on her now is a waste of precious energy you could use to gain the confessions of the others.” I tried to distract him. I sought to turn his mind to other activities that needed his attention and give Ms. Fern one moment of respite from his viciousness. He seemed bent on breaking her down as low as he could take her, perhaps for the sport of it. To me, it seemed to be arousing to him to thoroughly destroy the woman. At least my suggestions were working. He stared at the other women cowering in their cell like a predator looking for his prey. May God have mercy on their souls.
“You,” he pointed to the youngest among the condemned. Anne tried to mold her body against the wall to escape his pointing finger. After her inspection, she had no desire to be near him again. She made herself as flat as possible and shut her eyes as tight as she could, but he had already decided on her. There was no escaping him now.
The screech of the metal assaulted my ear drums as the jailer opened the rusted door. He took Anne by the arm and pulled her away from the wall. “No, please!” she cried out in fear, pulling against the jailer, digging her nails into his hand where he gripped her arm.
He screamed a slew of obscenities, swinging his fist and catching the girl in the jaw and knocking her to the ground where she fell unconscious. He picked her up in his arms and carried her from the cell, limp and unresponsive.
He dumped her on the floor of the interrogation room. The fall and impact roused her from her stupor. Launching herself to her feet, she leapt for the door attempting to flee, but John got there quicker and slammed it shut. “Where is it that you think you are going?” he asked her. She backed away from him, shivering in the thin gown she had been given on inspection day.
“Anne White, you have been accused of the most heinous sin against our Father, witchcraft. You have been accused of making potions and other incantations used against the God-fearing people of this great country. You have been accused dancing naked with the devil beneath the full moon. You have been accused of causing death. You have also been accused of sending a shadow of yourself upon your neighbors to learn their secrets and use them for your own gain. How do you plead?” John read the list off of her warrant to her in a flat tone. The writing on the parchment didn’t interest him. It was only the act of forcing them to talk that held his in
terest.
“I am but thirteen years old. What use do I have for anyone’s secrets?” she cried.
“How do you plead?” he repeated.
“Innocent! I am innocent! I haven’t done any of those things at all! Mary-Katherine said those nasty things about me because she fancied William, and William asked Papa to marry me. I didn’t do anything wrong!” her petulant side was showing. She stomped her little foot in anger and flung her bare arms around in a rage.
“Silence, you,” John said. “I didn’t ask for your tales of woe. I only asked for your plea.”
I wrote her response to the question in the log book that would later be used to prove her guilt at her trial.
“Anne White, you will be subjected to rigorous tests that will prove either your guilt or innocence. Do you understand?” I asked from my seat at the desk.
She glared at me, “You mean to prove my guilt, right? Witch hunters’ questions never lead to one being found innocent. Mother told me once a witch hunter has you, you are doomed to the gallows no matter what you say or do. I know I will hang no matter what happens now. That’s why I won’t give in to you. I won’t give you what you want,” she was fiery and vibrant. No wonder she had stolen the eye of this William fellow.
“My dear, I sincerely hope you hold out. That is exactly what I want from you,” John admitted with a grin.
Her eyes went wide and she gasped. She realized in the moment that John wanted nothing more than a slow torturous interrogation. The longer she held out, the more pain she would endure, and the more John would enjoy it.
“What do you mean to do to me?” she asked, shivering in the cold air of the room.
“Guards,” John said. Both men lounging by the door immediately stood in acknowledgment.
The Witch Hunter Page 21