The Witch Hunter's Tale (30 page)

“George was my friend,” I said. “Your son killed him, and I must know why.”

“Why?” A harsh laugh escaped Rebecca’s throat. “Who knows with such a blockish boy? Sometimes, Bridget, I think you were lucky to lose your children so young. They never reached an age when they could disappoint you.”

“You pushed him to do it,” Martha said. “Mr. Breary was going to rob you of your power, and you would not have it.”

Rebecca laughed again. “And you think I would send James on such a mission? Have you met him? I cannot send him for a loaf of bread without something going wrong, let alone to murder a grown man. No, it was his doing.”

“He did it to protect you,” I said.

“I wish that were the case,” Rebecca replied. “At least there would be some sense to that. No, he did it for that whore.”

“Agnes Greenbury,” I said. “He thought that if George were dead, she might turn her attention to him.”

“Perhaps that is why,” Rebecca replied, shaking her head in despair. “Or perhaps she convinced him to do it so she could be rid of that old goat. Whatever the case, the matter is near its end.”

“How did Joseph find out that James killed Mr. Breary?” I asked. “That is why you decided to betray him, isn’t it?”

When Rebecca smiled, her teeth gleamed in the moonlight. “My fool of a son went to Mr. Hodgson and announced that he’d done it. He hoped that Joseph would offer him a reward for ridding him of so troublesome a man.”

“And you couldn’t let that stand,” Martha said.

“I might as well have tied a noose around my own neck and handed the loose end to Joseph,” she replied. “I cannot allow anyone to have such an advantage over me. No, once James confessed his crime I had no choice but to act against Joseph.”

“Joseph can still accuse him of the murder,” I pointed out. “Even through broken teeth.”

“And who will listen to an accused witch?” Rebecca paused for a moment. “But you make a good point. Perhaps I’ll speak to the Lord Mayor and add Mr. Breary’s murder to the charges against Joseph. Just to be sure.” Rebecca nodded in satisfaction, leaving no doubt that she intended to do exactly that.

“I will see you at Joseph’s trial,” she said with a cold smile. “It should be a first-rate spectacle.”

*   *   *

The week that followed Joseph’s arrest passed with the pace and pain of a difficult birth. I did my best to think of other matters, but I could never draw my mind away from Will, Tree, and Elizabeth. Soon we received word from Samuel Short that Will and Tree, along with Stephen Daniels, had been sent to the Castle. Thanks to their escape from Ouse Bridge gaol, the Warden decreed that they would have no visitors, but Samuel had seen them when they arrived, and he said that all seemed in good health. I offered a prayer of thanks and sent enough blankets and food to keep them and their jailors more than comfortable. Of Elizabeth, we knew less, and it was this that kept me awake until the early morning hours. We knew that Joseph had sent her to live with a poor widow but, in an act of pure malice, he refused to say who it was, or if she even lived in the city.

Thankfully, the Lord Mayor sent word of Elizabeth’s disappearance throughout York, and by God’s grace she was discovered in Micklegate. It tore at my heart to know that she had been so frightened, and the joy I felt when she rushed into my arms was matched only by the enduring sorrow at Tree and Will’s absence. I tried as best I could to live as if all would be well, but even Elizabeth could sense my worry. She wondered where the guards had taken Will and Tree, and if they had gone to live with poor widows as well.

“They are back in gaol,” I explained. “But the man who put them there is soon to be punished, and then they will come home.” That was what I prayed for, at least.

And there were signs that the storm had indeed passed. Rebecca Hooke recanted her testimony against the women still in gaol, and she claimed that Joseph had bewitched her into finding the Devil’s Mark upon them. When Rebecca swore to this, the trials of other witches stopped. All told, Rebecca’s scheme to overthrow Joseph seemed to be proceeding apace. But Grace Thompson’s death had shown me—as if I needed reminding—that an easy travail did not mean an easy birth.

The week after Elizabeth came home, a boy appeared at my door with two notes from the Castle. One came from the Court of Special Assizes, announcing that Joseph would be tried the next day and ordering my presence as a witness.

The other was from Joseph. He wanted to see me.

Chapter 24

Martha paled when I showed her Joseph’s note. “What could he want?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “I asked the boy who brought it from the Castle, but he knew nothing either.”

“Will you go?” She sounded as uncertain as I felt.

I did not know why Joseph would want to see me, or what I could gain by going. But neither could I see any danger in speaking to him.

“There is little he can do to hurt us so long as he is in the Castle,” I said. “If Mark Preston were still alive I might worry, but without him, Joseph has been truly disarmed.” I paused for a moment, wondering if this were true. Joseph had not come so far both in war and in government without being prepared for all eventualities. In the end, it was this uncertainty that drove me to the Castle. For the sake of my family I had to discover whether he had one last arrow in his quiver, and the only way to find out was to see him myself.

The next morning Martha and I walked to the Castle. As we passed into the Castle yard we found the chapman Peter Newcome. He smiled and waved when he saw us, and we crossed the yard to speak with him.

“This is a remarkable turn of Fortune’s Wheel, is it not?” he cried out as we approached. “The witch-hunter Joseph Hodgson is now turned into a witch, and accused of murder to boot! The printer is having a devil of a time keeping up with the news.”

I could not help smiling at his enthusiasm. “I am grateful for your help in this affair. The book may not have found any readers, but you tried to help, which was very brave.”

“Oh, I helped you.” Newcome’s smile reminded me of a well-fed fox.

“How so?” Martha asked.

“You are not the only one to come to me for news of the town. Your nephew burned the books. But you can’t burn gossip, not when it concerns murder.”

I stared at Newcome for a moment. “You spread the rumor that Joseph killed George Breary?”

Newcome shrugged. “I only told my customers what I’d heard. And it turned out to be true, didn’t it? Else he’d not have been arrested.”

“Then I am in your debt,” I said. “You did not have to do that.”

“I wanted to help your nephew,” he replied. “That seemed the best way to go about it.”

“I am grateful as well,” Martha said. “Has there been any news about the women Mr. Hodgson imprisoned before his arrest?”

“Ah, there the Warden is in a bind,” Newcome replied. “He can’t try the women when one witness has recanted and another is accused of the same crime, can he? But if a prisoner owes him money for her keep, he can’t send her home.”

Martha stared at him in astonishment. “They are keeping women in gaol even if they have no plans to try them?”

“What choice does he have?” Newcome asked with a shrug. “Someone has to pay for their upkeep.”

Martha started to argue, but stopped when she realized that fault lay with the Warden, not the chapman. I wondered how many women would die of gaol-fever for the crime of being poor. I told Newcome why we had come to the Castle and asked if he knew which tower held Joseph.

“The easternmost,” Newcome replied, pointing across the yard. “Why would he ask to see you?”

“I wish I knew,” I replied. “And there’s only one way to find out.”

“Well, if you would care to tell me after, I’m always on watch for a good story,” Newcome called after us as we crossed the Castle yard.

We entered the tower, and after the customary haggling for fees, the jailor led us down the spiral stairs. After unlocking the door, he handed Martha a lantern and turned to go.

“You will not stay?” I called after him. “They say he is a dangerous man.”

“Not any more he ain’t,” the jailor replied. “I got him in irons.” He disappeared up the stairs without a backward look.

Martha and I glanced at each other and pushed open the door. Our breath turned to mist before us, and I could feel the cold seeping into my bones even before we crossed the threshold. The walls, which in summer glistened with water and slime, were now covered by a layer of ice and shimmered celestial silver in the flickering lamplight.

As in most of the lower cells, there was only one piece of furniture, a heavy wood bed with a rough mattress on it. Joseph sat on the bed, staring at us. He had drawn his knees to his chest, and I could see that, like the women jailed for witchcraft, he’d been shackled hand and foot. Unlike the women, however, Joseph seemed in perfect health. Indeed, so perfect was his visage that for a moment I wondered if it might not be entirely natural. Could Rebecca’s accusations of witchcraft, however false in intent, have been true?

When we entered his cell, Joseph smiled at us. It was a terrible thing to behold, for his broken teeth now seemed more like fangs.

“You never could resist a summons,” Joseph said. Even his voice bespoke his strength. If Joseph were going to die, it would not be of gaol-fever. “Have they released Will yet?”

“No,” I replied. “The Lord Mayor said that he would wait until after your trial.”

“Yes, I imagine that so cautious a man would want to do that.” Joseph smiled mirthlessly.

“What do you want with us?” Martha asked.

“I don’t really know,” Joseph sighed. “Perhaps I wanted you to see what they’d done to me. I was awake for days as they beat me.
Who were your familiars?
they asked, and
What did the devil look like when he came to you?
I suppose I should have just given them answers and been done with it. Then, at least, they would have eased my torture.”

“You never confessed?” I asked.

Joseph barked with laughter. “Everyone confesses, Aunt Bridget. Everyone. I know not what I said, but they would not have let me alone if I’d stood mute.”

“And you want me to feel pity for you?” I asked. I could not believe his audacity.

“No, of course not,” Joseph said. “You are not so tender as that. But tell me, will you have a hand in sending me to the gallows? Or will you let Rebecca Hooke do that?”

“The court has called me to testify, and I will do so,” I said. “But Rebecca Hooke will do her part as well.”

“I oughtn’t have put my trust in such a harpy,” Joseph said.

“No,” I replied. “That was a mistake.”

“And you’ll join her in sending an innocent man to his death?” Joseph asked. “You know I’m no witch. You know James Hooke is the one who killed George Breary.”

“You might not be guilty of those crimes, but you are far from innocent.” I wondered if he would remember speaking those very words about Will.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Joseph said with a slight and terrible smile. “But if you do this, Aunt Bridget, it will change who you are. You will be an outlaw in all but name.”

My mind turned to the guards who had died during Will’s escape from Ouse Bridge gaol. I glanced at my hands, still surprised that they were not stained crimson. “That will be no new thing,” I murmured.

“If you testify, you will become Rebecca Hooke’s maidservant,” Joseph said. “And you can see from my poor example where such a joining will get you.” His manacles clinked softly when he held up his hands.

He was right, of course. For months, York had talked of nothing at all except the women who had fallen into the devil’s snare when they traded their souls for power over their neighbors. Yet here I was, doing the very same thing, only my devil would be named Rebecca Hooke. Once Joseph was hanged, Rebecca and I would be comrades of a sort, partners in his murder. The problem for me, of course, was that her ruthlessness would give her the upper hand in all our future dealings. I could no more escape her than a witch could escape Satan.

“Join me,” Joseph said.

I looked at him in shock. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll tell them I have more to say. If I accuse her, and you testify with me, we can see
her
hanged in my place. You can tell the jury that she bewitched you and demand to search her for the Witch’s Mark. I’m sure you could find it if you looked. We both know that there is no more dangerous a woman in York.”

“In England,” I corrected him. And for a moment I considered his proposal. But I knew such a scheme was unlikely to work, and even if we were successful Joseph would be no less deadly a foe than Rebecca. One of them had to die, and I chose Joseph. Without another word I turned to the door.

“I’ll find a way through this,” Joseph called after us as Martha pulled the door shut. “And when I do, I’ll hunt you and I’ll kill you.” His voice, with its terrifying mix of panic and fury, echoed up the stairs.

“He means it,” Martha said as we hurried across the Castle yard.

“I know.” My mind raced as we passed through the Castle gate toward the city.

“Do you think it’s possible? With Mark Preston dead, Joseph seems as good as hanged, but if he somehow escapes the noose…” she trailed off.

“If he doesn’t hang, we’ll pay with our lives,” I said.

“Then what can we do?” Martha asked.

I did not answer. What
could
we do?

*   *   *

In a coincidence that struck all who were present, Joseph’s trial for witchcraft was to take place in the same hall that Hester Jackson’s had. Fortune’s Wheel turned round indeed, and we’d come back to where we started. The location, however, was where the similarities stopped, for the trial of a poor old woman could hardly compare to one in which the accused was among the city’s most powerful men. The hall was packed with scores of men and women, and others braved the cold outside, just to be near the spectacle. The Lord Mayor had dispensed with the aged fool who had tried Mother Lee, and the new judge, whom I knew not, took his duties seriously.

Joseph stood to one side of the bench, his eyes searching the courtroom. His hands were shackled, but they’d removed the fetters from his feet. He had also convinced (or paid) the guard to bring him clean clothes, and he’d washed himself well. He looked far better than he had any right to, and except for his broken teeth he seemed little different than he had before his arrest. I asked the bailiff how things would proceed, and he told me that there were just two witnesses against Joseph: Rebecca Hooke and me. I felt a pang of dismay at this, for I’d hoped to spread the burden of convicting Joseph a bit more widely, but there was little to be done now.