And why hadn't there been a word from Vikki Taylor's mother or Ellen Duncan's supporters? No deputations; no demonstrations -- nothing. What the hell was going on? He was uneasy. The courtroom was too crowded. Had everyone present been checked for concealed weapons? Another ten minutes and he would return to the safety and blissful cool of his air-conditioned office.
Roscoe turned to Judge Hooper. `That concludes the opening for the prosecution, your honour. I will now introduce the exhibits -- the accoutrements of witchcraft -- that were removed from Ellen Duncan's shop at the time of her arrest.'
Judge Hooper nodded to Roscoe to proceed. He glanced at Diana Sheldon, sitting at a separate table with David Weir. It had worried him that the town clerk was defending and he had expressed his misgivings to her in his chambers. She had pointed out that Ellen Duncan and Vikki Taylor had appointed her and that there could be no clash of interest because the judiciary and the town council were supposedly quite separate. Her forthrightness had surprised him -- she was no longer the mouse-like daughter of his old friend, Harry Sheldon.
Someone had supplied her with a bulging wallet of handwritten notes on witchcraft. Obviously not her work, the way she was working her way through them -- often soliciting David Weir's opinion on handwriting. It all smacked of no proper preparation although whoever had done the research donkey work had been busy. A serious case carrying the death penalty and no silks defending or prosecuting -- something that had worried him during Brad Jackson's trial, but it couldn't be helped.
The other damnable thing was that he knew the prisoners but what could one do? In a small community like Pentworth, everyone knew everyone. As a governor of St Catherine's, he had presented Victoria Taylor with a special prize for bravery when she was 12. Ellen Duncan provided him with a monthly medication that worked wonders for his gastric problem. The whole wretched business had placed him in a legally dubious position and he resolved to make life difficult for those who had engineered this absurd situation.
Witchcraft indeed.
The only consolation, if it could be called that, was that under Prescott's absurd legislation, responsibility for sentencing the accused, if they were found guilty, rested with the mesne Lord of Pentworth Manor -- Adrian Roscoe.
Diana rose, looking neat and professional in a close-fitting cashmere skirt and top. Prescott looked away from her withering stare.
`Yes, Miss Sheldon?'
`Your honour. The prosecution has made much of an obligation placed on the Lord of the Manor of Pentworth over 350 years ago by the so-called Witchfinder General Matthew Hopkins in which he called on him and the people of Pentworth to hunt down and bring witches to justice.
`As a result of painstaking research in the library, which your honour will appreciate is our only source of information these days, I have a list of several references by reputable historians in which they assert that Matthew Hopkins was not what he claimed. Of particular interest is a summary by Ivan Bunn which I wish to read out with your honour's permission.'
Roscoe spotted the judge's sudden interest and was on his feet. `Your honour -- historians bicker and argue among themselves as to what is fact and what is fiction or myth.' He picked up the vellum letter signed by the witchfinder. `We have several depositions from experts stating that this letter is undoubtably genuine.' `I don't think Miss Sheldon is disputing the authenticity of the letter, Mr Roscoe -- merely the credentials of the writer. Go ahead, Miss Sheldon.'
Diana quickly scanned through some handwriting clarifications of Malone's copious notes on Ivan Bunn's findings and began reading aloud:
`"Matthew Hopkins started his witch-finding activities at Manningtree, Essex, early in 1645, assisted by John Stearne and Mary Philips. At the time Charles I was on the throne, but was preoccupied with the English Civil War and not effectively ruling the country. Some sources claim that Hopkins had been commissioned by Parliament to discover witches. However no names or authority are mentioned, and there are no records of a commission being granted to him. Most historians now agree that this claim is probably incorrect and that his role and title were self-appointed. Even the use of the title `Witchfinder General' is doubtful. It only appears once and that is on the frontispiece of his book The Discovery of Witches, (London 1647). Everywhere else in the book and in all other contemporary records he is referred to as `witch-finder'. In reality both Hopkins and Stearne were probably self-appointed Puritan zealots with a fixation and fear of witchcraft who set themselves the task of discovering witches and bringing them to justice under the Witchcraft Act of 1604."'
Judge Hooper held out his hand for Diana's document. `And your list of library citations, please.'
The court usher passed the papers to the judge who glanced through them quickly. `Interesting... Your researcher appears to have been busy.' He looked up. `Mr Roscoe. If these references are substantially correct -- and we have some respected historians cited here -- it may put your prosecution in a very different light.' Roscoe rose to object but the judge continued. `I would like to study these sources therefore court is adjourned until 9 am tomorrow. We'll have an early start and beat the sun.'
`My God,' Diana muttered to David who was exchanging smiles and waves with Ellen as she and Vikki were escorted from the dock by a woman police constable. `I do believe we're going to get a dismissal.'
Chapter 39.
ADRIAN ROSCOE DID NOT SHARE Diana's optimism. He dined that evening in his apartment in Pentworth House with Nelson Faraday as his guest.
`The trial is going according to plan, Nelson,' he said, his eyes glittering in the candlelight. He had refused to broach the subject until Theta had brought in the brandy.
Nelson was puzzled. `According to plan, father? I thought things went badly today?'
The cult leader gave a dismissive wave. `Hooper is difficult, but what judge isn't? He is bound by the law as it now stands and he knows that the trial has to continue. If he does anything silly, then we appeal to Prescott, and Prescott orders a retrial and appoints another judge. Prescott doesn't want it to come to that -- he wants a proper judge presiding.'
Faraday chuckled. `He's livid over the arrest of the Taylor bitch.'
Roscoe swirled his brandy in the crystal balloon. Only ten bottles left. A good crop of cherries so maybe it would be possible to make some. `Understandable. He fears that a 16-year-old on trial will rebound on him. But he underestimates the strong feeling in the community against witchcraft. The jury is with me, and that's all that matters. The trial should be over by Friday. I shall sentence them here on Saturday, and we will carry out the sentence on Saturday night.'
`Saturday night, father? But the traditional time for hanging is always early morning.'
Roscoe smiled thinly and produced a typed carbon copy which he handed to Faraday. `A detailed schedule for you, Nelson. Those old titles which Prescott dug up show that Market Square is part of my estate so I can't see any legal problems there. And, of course, such an event at night by torchlight will be much more dramatic. So much more memorable, and it will steer those who've had their minds poisoned back to the path of righteousness.'
Faraday came to the procession details halfway down the page. `This is going to take some organizing, father. Torches will have to made. We'll need--'
`And who better than you to organize it, Nelson?'
`Setting the scaffold up in the square won't be a prob--'
`Read on,' Roscoe interrupted.
Faraday read on and came to the last paragraph. He stopped reading and raised astonished eyes to his host.
Roscoe was pleased with his reaction. `What do you think?'
`Fantastic, father. Really fantastic. A brilliant idea.'
`Quite. I take your point about the traditions surrounding hanging, but there are even earlier traditions when it comes to the destruction of Satan's apostles that are worthy of consideration.'
Chapter 40.
`MEMBERS OF THE JURY,' said Judge Hooper the following morning. `Yester
day the prosecution made much of the fact that the witchfinder general had tasked the Lord of the Manor of Pentworth with bringing suspected witches to trial.' He gestured to a pile of books before him, their pages flagged with marker slips. `But the balance of probability is that Matthew Hopkins was a private citizen, with no royal warrant and no parliamentary commission to hunt for witches. He and his assistants acted off their own bat in the hunting and bringing to book of witches under the Witchcraft Act of 1604 -- which they did with great zeal from around 1645 to 1647.
`However, the fact that Matthew Hopkins acted privately does not have any bearing on the legality of this prosecution. The act is extremely intricate but what we can glean from it is that the people, local justices, mayors, and lords of manors in particular had, or I should say "have", a clear duty to bring suspected witches to trial. I've decided therefore that this trial should continue. Yes, Mr Roscoe?'
Not even Roscoe was a good enough actor to completely suppress his smirk of triumph as he rose. Ellen and Vikki, who had had their hopes raised after their meeting the previous evening with Diana Sheldon, looked utterly crushed.
`Thank you, your honour, said Roscoe. `I will now go through most of the various accoutrements of witchcraft that were removed from Ellen Duncan's shop at the time of her arrest.'
`That the items on display belong to my client is not in dispute, your honour,' said Diana.
`Exhibit 1,' said Roscoe, selecting Ellen's black-handled herb knife from a tray loaded with labelled exhibits and holding it up. `A witches' athame. Their ceremonial dagger.'
The usher passed the knife to the judge who commented, `I have a similar knife at home, Mr Roscoe.'
Roscoe smiled benignly as the knife was passed among the jurors and then back to him. `It is used by witches in their blasphemous practices, your honour. It is representative of the phallus in the rite of cakes and wine. It is dipped ritually into the chalice. The dripping wine symbolizes semen, the chalice is the female genitalia. Together they represent the sexual union of male and female.'
`I use mine to chop onions.'
Several jurors actually smiled at that and the usher got busy with a handkerchief.
`I think the old sod's on our side,' Diana whispered to David.
`You thought that yesterday.'
`Exhibit 2. Belladonna,' said Roscoe, holding up a small green bottle. `Witches drop it in their eyes to dilate the pupils and so make themselves more attractive to demons with whom they wish to have sexual intercourse.'
`It's proper name is atropine, Mr Roscoe,' said Judge Hooper shortly. `I've got several of those bottles in my medicine cupboard. There's a herbalist in this town who prescribes controlled doses for my indigestion. She makes them from deadly nightshade. It works marvels, and for several of my friends, too.' He paused and added regretfully, `Not too effective in matters of the occult, though. Neither they or I have ever been approached by demons with improper suggestions.' Several jurors and court officials laughed outright. Ellen managed a meagre smile but Roscoe appeared unmoved. Next he produced a box of black candles and a black silk scarf, both of which received similar derisory treatment from the judge. The last exhibit was more serious -- a small cardboard box containing coin-like medallions bearing pagan runes and symbols.
`Witches arrange these hellish devices around their pentagram during their profane rituals,' Roscoe declared. He started reciting the function and purpose of each item but was interrupted by the judge requesting that he examine the box. There was silence in the courtroom as Judge Hooper peered at each medallion in turn. Eventually he looked up and glared at Roscoe. `These are nothing but charms from a charm bracelet, Mr Roscoe.'
`With respect, your honour -- each one of those devices has a special pagan significance--'
`And here's the original bracelet,' said Judge Hooper, fishing out a slender gold bangle from the box. `Ah -- the catch is broken. No doubt that's why the charms are kept together in this box.'
`They are all pagan artifacts,' Roscoe insisted calmly.
`Well of course they are. That's the whole point of charm bracelets.' The judge glanced around the courtroom. `Does anyone have such a bracelet?'
A woman juror put up a tentative hand.
Judge Hooper grinned. `Ah, you're wearing one. May we see it, please?'
`Does your honour want it admitted as an exhibit?' the clerk of the court demanded frostily.
`Hardly necessary, clerk,' the judge replied. He took the juror's bracelet from the usher and examined it, comparing its charms with those in the box. `Would you believe it, I've found four identical charms,' he announced. `No doubt there are more.'
Diana rose. `Your honour, all the exhibits the prosecution have produced so far have been mundane household objects. Unless he is about to produce a levitating broomstick and a long black, pointed hat, the defence requests that they be ruled as inadmissable.'
`I can't do that,' said Judge Hooper, hiding a smile. `But it's likely that I'll have something to say on the matter in my summing-up.'
Roscoe produced his first witness who claimed he had bought a packet of witches' tea from Ellen's shop some years before but he couldn't remember exactly when.
`But the label definitely stated witches tea?' asked Roscoe. `Are you absolutely certain?'
`Absolutely,' agreed the witness. `I remember telling the wife that it would make a good present for her mother. And she got mad at me and started throwing things.'
`Let's see what else you can remember about the label,' said Diana when it was her turn to cross-examine. `Can you remember the name of the shop that was printed on the label?'
`Well -- it would've been Earthforce, wouldn't it?'
`I don't know,' said Diana drily. `I wasn't there. It could've even been called the Wicca Basket--'
`That's it! The Wicca Basket. Remember it clear as a bell now. Spelt W-I-C-C-A. Even I can spell wicker proper.'
`Your honour,' said Diana. `I shall be producing documentary evidence showing that the Wicca Basket, spelt as the witness says, was the name used by the shop's previous owner, Miss Duncan's mother. Miss Duncan changed the name to Earthforce when she became the owner.'
`Yeah -- but it was her that sold it to me,' said the witness pointing to Ellen. `And it definitely said witches' tea on the label.'
`Have you ever bought Earl Grey tea, Mr Street?'
Witness nonplussed. `What?'
Diana repeated the question.
`Yes -- but not from her.'
`But you have bought it?'
`Well -- yes. I like it. Can't get it now, more's the pity.'
`When you used to buy Earl Grey tea, did you buy it from Earl Grey?'
Witness perplexed. `No -- dunno where his shop is. I used to get it from Mr Patel who owns our local Mace shop.'
Roscoe next called Harvey Evans. The former police inspector was an old hand in court and gave his full details after taking the oath without being prompted. But in all his years, he had never been so apprehensive on entering the witness box as he was now.
`You are a keen microlight pilot, Mr Evans?' was Roscoe's opening question.
Evans' apprehension deepened. He avoided looking at the dock. `Yes.'
`You used to fly around this area a great deal before God put His Wall in place?'
`We don't know who or what put the Wall in place, your honour,' said Diana, rising.
The judge nodded. `Rephrase your question please, Mr Roscoe.'
`You used to do a great deal of flying around this area?'
`Yes.'
`Low flying?'
`Yes.'
Too many leading questions for Judge Hooper's liking but it had come close to having to subpoena Harvey Evans to get him into court therefore he decided not to intervene.
`You have related to a number of people that you once saw a woman dancing naked at the Temple of the Winds.'
Evans remained calm. He had never revealed Ellen's name as the dancer to anyone. Roscoe was shooting in the dark.
`Yes,' said at length.
`Did you recognise her?'
God -- if only he'd kept his mouth shut in the Crown. `Yes.'
Diana rose to ask if the questions were relevant on the grounds that the Temple of the Winds was not part of the Pentworth estate and never had been. Roscoe countered that the questions were relevant as he intended to show. Judge Hooper allowed the examination-in-chief to continue.
`So who was this naked woman dancer, Mr Evans?'
More for the benefit of Ellen than the court, Evans replied, `I can state quite categorically, under oath, that I have never disclosed the name of the person.'
`I can understand your discretion, Mr Evans,' said the judge. `But the prosecution seem to think it important. Is the lady in court?'
Evans, realising that he was trapped, could only nod.
`If you would point her out, please.'
Levelling a finger at Ellen seemed a worse betrayal than uttering her name. `Ellen Duncan,' he answered reluctantly. `But I couldn't tell if she was dancing. But she seemed to be dancing about. There's a difference -- particularly when you discover that you've been sunbathing on an ants' nest.'
`Pure conjecture,' said Judge Hooper severely.
Roscoe smiled. `So... She was naked and she was dancing. Thank you, Mr Evans. No more questions.'
Diana rose to say that she did not wish to cross-examine.
Dennis Davies, looking grave and uncomfortable, was the next prosecution witness to take the stand. He gave the oath and agreed that he was the chief librarian. Diana frowned when he was called and whispered urgently to David.
`Mr Davies,' said Roscoe. `You have received many thousands of books in answer to government appeals for donations?'
`About half a million volumes. It's going to take weeks to catalogue them all.'
`Have you received entire libraries or collections?'
`Yes.'
`How many?'
`Three significant collections.'
`Would you detail them, please.'
Dennis glanced at the judge. `The largest collection were the law books donated by Mr Justice Hooper. Then there was a science-fiction collection of about 2000 paperbacks.' He hesitated. `And Ellen Duncan's remarkable collection of books on the occult, witchcraft and black magic.'
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