The Witch Hunter

by Candace Adams

  “Sir?”

  “Take hold of Miss White’s arms please,” John said to them. “Matthew, if you will, please bring me my blade?” He pointed to the small dagger laying upon the table that I had inspected days before. I picked it up anew and brought it to him, again pulling on the blade in my hand. It was sturdy and sound, just as it had been before. I handed it to him, hilt first.

  He checked the sharpness against his palm and seemed satisfied. The hilt was grasped firmly in his palm. Walking slowly toward the captive woman, he twirled the blade in his hand and the girl’s eyes followed the instrument intently.

  Upon reaching her, John paused. He put his fingers on his chin in thought. The other hand wielding the knife was on his hip. “I seem to recall, upon our last meeting, a number of brown spots on your chest, stomach, and back. One upon your thigh too, if my memory serves me correctly.” He continued to scratch his chin. “It has been a while since I saw your body exposed though, I supposed I could have you confused with another?” He posed it as a question even though he readily knew the answer. Anne didn’t speak and made no attempt to pull away from the guards who dug their fingers into her arms. She stood stock still accepting what was to come.

  Lashing out with a quickness a cat would envy, he sliced the dagger down the front of her cotton shift, rendering it completely open down the front, she was laid bare from face to foot and blushing under my scrutiny.

  “Why do you look embarrassed, Anne? It is not the first time we have laid our eyes on you. We are like old friends becoming reacquainted with one another,” he chided her.

  “We are not friends,” she spat at him. “You are a monster.”

  “And yet, you are the one that stands before me accused?”

  She pursed her lips in rebellion, tilting her head up and closing her tear-filled eyes.

  “Ah, yes. There are those marks I remember,” he said running his fingers down her chest, between her tiny breasts and ending on top of her almost bare mound. She shivered beneath his touch, not able to recoil completely for the hold the men had on her.

  “Matthew, please make note of each of the marks I insert my blade into and whether or not they bleed,” John said to me.

  “I’m ready.” I responded, quill in hand.

  He inserted the tip of the blade into the largest of the brown marks on her body, slightly above her left breast, twisting the tip for good measure, No blood came to the surface. The girl looked perplexed. John smiled at her with the strange smile that he had been wearing of late that I was beginning to fear.

  Anne’s lip quivered She shook as she looked down at the spot that refused to bleed. Before she could gain her bearing, he stabbed again and again at any blemish upon her skin and exclaimed joyously when nothing happened beneath his blade.

  “Which mark do you feed your familiar with girl?” John asked inserting the blade into yet another spot.

  “I have no familiars. I have told you this,” she said, struggling to breath.

  Not dissuaded from her response, John prodded at least ten more spots. “Nonsense! We can see as well as you that your marks don’t bleed. You are clearly a witch. What kind of animal did Satan gift you? A cat? Or maybe a great big toad?”

  When all the spots had been prodded to his satisfaction. John turned to me and smiled. He threw his blade at the wall where it was embedded to the hilt not inches away from the girls’ head. She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut tightly.

  “Stop playing games with me, witch. There is no need to try to hide your guilt.”

  “I’m not hiding anything! I don’t have anything to hide!” she screamed, throwing her body forward, pulling hard against the guards holding her steady.

  I stood up from the desk; I had seen enough. “Anne White, how do you plead against the accusations of witchcraft that have been made against you?” I raised my eyes to her, leaning against my chair.

  Her wild eyes locked on mine like I was her savior. “Innocent! I’m innocent! I’m no witch! I’ve never hurt anyone! I’ve never danced naked, and I’ve never been with any man let alone the Devil himself!”

  “Guards. Clothe her please and take her back to the cell. We are done here for today." I shut the log book, marking my place with a ribbon.

  “What do you mean we are done here?” John asked, throwing his hands up, incredulously. “I was just getting started!”

  “We are done.”

  I walked out of the room as another guard was entering bringing a fresh shift to cover the girl. John stormed off muttering under his breath.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Taryn

  I have never in my entire existence ever met a man I wanted to strangle more than John. Granted, I haven’t had a whole lot of experience with men in my life. Most of them were bookish college guys, and had always been more interested in learning than they were in sadism and torture, so there wasn’t a lot to compare him to. But I knew he was worse than anyone I had ever met, even on their worst day. As happy as I was with Matthew, John made me really want to find a way back home. He scared me in a way I couldn’t put words to.

  Watching him toss Charlotte’s body in that hole in the ground like she was nothing better than a sack of trash had my mind reeling. I never claimed to be a master detective, or a forensic superstar, but my gut told me he had something to do with her death. I didn’t know how, but I was going to find out what really happened to her. Even if no one else cared about her. I told her I would come back. Now the best I could do was find out what happened to her and why. And so help me God, if John was involved, I would kill him myself.

  Henry had no problem taking me home. Home. I guess that’s a relative term. The inn was technically my home until I found a way to get back to my own life, or I gave up and made a new one here.

  “We are here, Miss,” Henry announced from up front. So hard to get used to this. I missed my car. I missed the internet, my books, a heated house. Not to mention electricity and hot showers. How could I even entertain the thought of staying here when I would have no rights as a woman. A place where anyone could decide they don’t like me, and the next thing I know, I’m being strung up for witchcraft. John would do it to me in a heartbeat. Put that on my list of things to look out for.

  “Thank you so much, Henry. I’m sorry you had to make a second trip back and forth today,” I told him.

  “It’s no worry, Miss. I love spending time with these old biddies,” he said gesturing to the horses. He laughed and I couldn’t help but laugh with him. His pure happiness managed to melt some of my anger and worry away.

  He turned the carriage and went back the way he came to collect the men and I made my way inside. Most of the same crowd as usual was sitting around drinking inside. All eyes turned to me as I closed the door behind me. Conversation stopped; my heart fluttered. I had made a terrible mistake coming back here without Matthew.

  “Taryn! You’re back early,” I sighed with relief, thank God, Elizabeth. “I just finished my shift; do you want to have some dinner with me?” she asked.

  “Sure,” I said, grateful for the company.

  She wiped her hands on her apron and turned for the kitchen. I took a seat at the bar as close to Harold as I could. The men were still eyeing me ominously and whispering to themselves, and it was making me feel very uncomfortable. I hoped Elizabeth didn’t take long.

  “Rough day, love?” Harold asked from behind the bar. The men seemed to turn their attention off me once Harold began a conversation. He spoke to me, but looked at them, daring someone to start something in his establishment.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  He turned his attention back to me, “For what?”

  I shook my head, “Nothing,” I smiled weakly. “It’s been a really long day. A little girl was murdered at the castle last night, and we buried her within the castle grounds.”

  “What was a little girl doing at the castle? That place is no place for a wee one,” he said wiping the counter mechanicall
y.

  “Her mother is one of the eight women accused of witchcraft,” he sat a glass of wine in front of me and I took a greedy gulp of its sweetness.

  His body sagged, “That poor child. I hope they caught the bastard that did it.”

  I sighed deeply, “Unfortunately, no. They are trying to pin it on the women themselves, saying it was witchcraft, but I think it’s some kind of cover up for something more sinister.”

  He chuckled at me, “Miss, in my experience, if it looks like a dog and barks like a dog, it’s usually not a cat. Leave it for the men. If they say it’s witchcraft, they are the experts on that sort of thing, you know? A woman like you doesn’t need to worry her mind over murder. I can’t believe they brought you to that vile place to begin with. No place for a lady.” Harold paused in his perpetual tidying and shook his head disapprovingly.

  Elizabeth returned carrying the plates of food, sliding one in front of me and set one down for herself.

  As if on cue, the door slammed open. John backed into the room, animatedly swinging his arms, arguing with Matthew about something inaudible to me. “We will talk about this later.” Matthew snapped at him effectively ending whatever they had been fighting about.

  “Fine,” John threw his hands up and turned towards me sitting at the bar. He looked like a deer in the headlights when his eyes met mine. So, they were arguing about me. Fantastic. “Taryn, happy to see you made it home safely,” he said to me.

  “Yeah, you too.” I said with the same amount of sincerity.

  John didn’t glance at me again. He didn’t look at Matthew either. He barely nodded at Harold as he stomped away in anger.

  “What’s got him so worked up?” I asked Matthew. Elizabeth looked at him curiously as well.

  “Just a difference of opinion. Nothing either of you need to concern yourselves with.” He sat and gestured for Harold to get him an ale.

  Elizabeth took a few more hurried bites from her plate and sat her fork down. “He really isn’t a nice man.”

  “Don’t worry about him. He is going to leave you alone,” I said. “You stay and finish your meal.” I stuffed another forkful into my mouth. If smoke could come out of my ears, I would be steaming right now.

  “I had some earlier as well. I’m really quite full,” she said picking her plate up and rushing for the kitchen before I could object again.

  “Leave her be. It’s just the way things are,” Matthew said putting his hand over mine.

  I sighed, losing the battle. He was right and I knew it. I wasn’t going to win a war that was hundreds of years from being on anyone’s radar. It was just so damn frustrating. I ate the rest of my food in silence, glaring at my plate as if it had done me some grave injustice. Matthew was wise enough to leave me alone to sulk about it.

  “I’m ready for bed,” I announced, laying my fork upon my empty plate.

  “I thought maybe we could take a walk?” he suggested.

  I sighed. I was really anxious to just get this day over with. I was in sensory overload and I was so damned aggravated that a tiger would be afraid of me. But I knew he was trying to be nice. I stood up from my stool and took the arm he offered me. He led me out the heavy wooden door at the front of the building. The men in the bar kept on staring at us, and I continued to have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach about it. I didn’t know what they wanted but I was sure that it was not going to be a good thing when they finally decided to act.

  “Are you cold?” he asked me.

  “Only a little. It’s pretty mild today,” I responded. He unclipped his cloak and wrapped it around my shoulders, running his hands down my arms.

  “You know, if you keep up this chivalry, I am going to have to seriously reevaluate everything I have ever learned about you,” I said accepting his gift.

  He laughed, “I keep telling you not to believe everything you read. Eventually you will be forced to accept that I am right. Although it may take a while, as a headstrong woman of the future, you are particularly hard to convince.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said.

  “I’m sorry you left the castle angry today,” he said, getting serious. I had a feeling that was what he wanted to discuss when he suggested the walk. He knew how upset I was about Charlotte’s death. Her hasty burial had left a sour taste in my mouth. John’s attitude towards the whole event didn’t help matters either.

  “I’m sorry I had to leave the castle angry,” I retorted. “The way that little girl was treated, the way her remains were treated, was deplorable. Charlotte’s mother wasn’t even there to bury her. That’s horrendous. You understand that right? Accused or not, you both should have brought her to that gravesite to say goodbye to her daughter. Did you even tell her she was dead?” I took a breath, allowing him the opportunity to respond.

  “John did. Although I wish to God I had done it myself,” his voice cracked with the admission. I stopped walking and looked at him in disbelief.

  “I can’t believe you let him do something as delicate as that. That man has no feelings. He was not the right person to deliver that kind of news to anyone.”

  Matthew looked defeated, “You’re right. The way she learned of her daughter’s death was cruel. John gave no mind to her feelings and I’m ashamed that I didn’t stop him and take the woman aside and give her the news myself. He didn’t really give me the opportunity to do so. He just blurted it out the same way he would tell someone the hour. Her pain after his admission was heartbreaking. I have never heard a person cry that way,” he shook his head in agony.

  “In my line of work, tears are common. Expected. Most of the time we try to get them to cry because that means we are getting to them. It means a job well done. But this was something else entirely. A whole different beast. Her cries made me feel like John and I were the monsters.” He raised his face to me and I saw the glisten of unshed tears in his eyes he was fighting to hold back.

  “You’re no monster,” I said stepping forward and laying my head upon his chest. “I don’t believe I can say the same for your partner, but you most definitely have a good soul.”

  “I really hope you’re right, otherwise I am going to burn in hell for everything we have done.”

  The walk back to the inn was cathartic. Hand in hand, we didn’t need to speak any words to each other. We were on a different plane of understanding, Matthew and I. He was beginning to see that the witch hunts were a folly he had wasted years on. I was beginning to see that I was righter than I knew when I insisted to a crowded room of people that the witch hunters themselves were victims of the era. This man was no beast out for blood, looking to hang whoever he could for some gold in his pocket. This man had feelings, deep ones, and a great desire to do good. A desire to make the world a better, less evil place. But the time he lived in did not constitute an easy way to achieve that goal. What it did constitute was a plethora of misgivings, needless pain and suffering attributed to the superstitious people and the church itself that claimed it could deliver souls to heaven. Everyone and none were to blame for this travesty simultaneously. History would see it as the holocaust against women, but few would remember the humanity of the perpetrators who could not fathom that they were not saving the world from evil, but adding more to it.

  A strong wind was blowing in from the east and I clutched the cloak up around my face to block it. The leaves swirled and danced around our feet. They made rustling noises in the trees. Winter would be upon us very soon. It was beginning to look like I would be spending the holidays in this place. These people didn’t even have my holidays yet. It made my heart heavy that there would be no thanksgiving with my family, no Christmas, no New Year’s Eve ball drop.

  Perhaps something more important was happening here now though. I might not be ending the inquisition, but maybe, by changing Matthew’s perception of it, awareness would spread.

  “I’m sorry we couldn’t do more to bring justice to the little girl. You’re right though, her mother
should have been there to bury her. I can’t take that back, but I can promise you from here on out to try to be more sympathetic. I will try to look at things differently than I would have done before. I’ll try to make you proud of the man I am,” he said to me, squeezing my fingers in his warm palm.

  I grasped his hand back and smiled, “Aim to be a man that you are proud of. Try to be a man that history remembers for good deeds, not bad ones. That’s all I ask.” He spun me around and pressed his mouth to me hard, filling me with his love and sincerity.

  “I swear it,” he said, only pulling far enough away from me to speak.

  The door of the Thorn swung open and several men piled out in front of us. Matthew stepped in front of me protectively. The men didn’t notice us right away but as they shuffled away one man caught sight of me. He leveled a shaky finger in my direction, “Witch.” he whispered. “There’s the witch.” The accusatory finger could not be mistaken for anyone else.

  “Witch!” another man yelled. “What are you waiting for, Witch Hunter, arrest the whore,” the men were clearly drunk, but men often speak the truth as they see it while under the influence. The third man picked up a rock from the ground and lobbed it in my direction. It just barely grazed the edge of my skirt, his aim was very poor in his drunken state.

  “Stay behind me, Taryn,” Matthew ordered. No problem there. I was afraid. The men had been eyeing me for days, and now I understood why. The ruse had not worked. No one believed I was a visiting friend of the family. I was very much in danger here.

  The man that had thrown the rock attempted to reach around Matthew to grab hold of me. Big mistake on his part. Matthew grabbed his arm and swung him around until he hit the side of the building face first and collapsed on the ground in a heap.

  “If anyone touches her, I will send them to meet their maker,” Matthew threatened ominously.

  “We don’t want to touch her Sir; we want to hang her,” one of the men said.

  “Or we could burn her, if you prefer,” the second man said. The one Matthew had slammed into the wall just laughed at his two friends maniacally from the ground.