The Witch Hunter's Tale Read online

  “As most of you know, we are here at the request of Mr. Joseph Hodgson,” Greenbury announced. “So without further delay I will turn the meeting over to him.”

  When Joseph began to speak, I leaned forward hoping to catch a view of him. I caught my breath when I saw Mark Preston’s familiar and entirely unwelcome face. He stood against the far wall, facing us, and when I glanced down at his ruined hand a shiver ran through me. While Joseph and Rebecca were the architects of the scheme to rid York of its witches, it would be a mistake to forget about so dangerous a man as Preston, and I vowed not to do so.

  Joseph sat with his back to us, but in my mind I could see the hard lines of his face and his cold, clear eyes. When he’d left to fight in the wars, he’d been a kind young man, a bit aloof perhaps, but not a bad sort at all. He’d returned from Cromwell’s side soaked in blood and well schooled in the ruthlessness necessary to succeed in politics. When Edward died, Joseph stepped into his place without a moment’s hesitation, and he made it his business to purge the city of sin—and of his enemies.

  Joseph’s chair scraped back as he stood to speak. “It is no secret that York has suffered, and continues to suffer at God’s hands,” he said. “Summer heat has turned to the iron cold of winter, and many in the city know not where to turn for relief. The answer, of course, is that they should turn to the Lord, but too many have not seen this simple truth, and even to this day they wallow in their sin.” Joseph continued in this vein for some time, and had I not known who was speaking, I would have thought it was a godly minister preaching to his flock. Joseph dropped his voice to a whisper, drawing in his listeners, and then shouted about God’s law or God’s glory, overwhelming the Council with the power of his voice and the sheer force of his will.

  “Good and learned ministers of the gospel have shown us that the End of Days is upon us,” Joseph continued. “Soon, very soon, the Risen Christ will do battle with the fallen Antichrist, and all men will have to choose whether they are among God’s people or Satan’s. Even now, the battle is joined, as the hanging of the witch Hester Jackson has shown.” At this Martha and I stood a little straighter. This was why we’d come.

  “In years past, learned men have amply proved that witches—these handmaidens of the devil himself—never work alone. In this, witches are like the rats that so often suckle from their hideous teats. If one rat is found in the kitchen, there must be more within the walls. And if one witch is in the city, there must be more within its walls.” I could hear members of the Council murmuring in agreement with Joseph’s logic.

  “Although it is unusual, I should like now to bring an expert on witches and their evil ways before the Council.” Martha and I looked at each other in alarm. “I am sure you all know Mrs. Rebecca Hooke,” Joseph continued. “She was born and bred in the city, and worked for many years as a midwife. Indeed, the wives of more than a few Councilmen benefitted from her care. Mrs. Hooke examined Hester Jackson and found the Witch’s Mark on her body. And she knows far more about witches and witchcraft than any one of us.”

  When none on the Council objected, the clerk called for Rebecca Hooke. Confidence and cruelty echoed through the hall each time her heel struck the rough wood floor. I could not resist peering over the edge of the balcony to watch Rebecca’s performance. She stood at the head of the table and looked around the room. Once she was sure that she had the attention of every Alderman she began to speak.

  Chapter 6

  “Gentlemen,” Rebecca Hooke said, “no good man would deny that Satan is active in the world, more now than at any time since Jesus Christ walked the earth. We hear daily of witches acting on behalf of the King to destroy godly religion and hasten the fall of all men into perdition.”

  Such pious words from such a harridan were absurd, of course. When the King had held York, Rebecca had been as strong a royalist as you’d care to meet, but once Parliament had taken power she donned the garb of the Puritan and became a reformer. I had no doubt that if the King returned to the city, so too would her love of monarchy. As best I could judge, Rebecca was a bit older than me, nearing her fortieth year. And while men assured me of my comeliness, she far surpassed me in beauty. Her high cheeks and ice-blue eyes seemed perfectly suited to the winter’s cold. The Councilmen couldn’t look away.

  “When Hester Jackson was arrested as a witch, Mr. Hodgson summoned me to search her body for unnatural teats.” Rebecca’s voice echoed through the chamber. “I found just such teats near her fundament. She confessed her guilt to me, to Mr. Hodgson, and to the court of Special Assizes. There can be no doubt of her guilt, or the justice of her hanging. This you know already.”

  The Councilmen nodded in agreement.

  As much as I hated Rebecca, I could not help admiring her strength and how far she had come in this life. While I had the privilege of an ancient name and estates, Rebecca had made her way from nothing. Some said that she was the bastard daughter of a maidservant, while others claimed that she had deliberately gotten with child so she could force the man of her choosing into marriage. None dared say such things anymore, for Rebecca had made it her business to exact terrible revenge on those who trafficked in such news. Her favored weapon was gossip, and she spread rumors so vicious they drove entire families from the city. After marrying Richard Hooke, she had become merciless in her pursuit of power and money, harrying the poor man into great wealth and a seat on the City Council. If he had not been every bit as weak as my own Phineas, Richard Hooke might have been able to resist his wife’s base nature, but in the end she bent him to her will.

  “But there are things you do not know,” Rebecca continued, “things Mr. Hodgson and I have kept in the greatest confidence for fear of exciting tumult within the city.”

  The Councilmen feared disorder more than anything else, and they leaned forward in their seats, unwilling to miss a single word.

  “As Mr. Hodgson said, it is not in a witch’s nature to labor alone in the vineyards of Satan. And before she died, Hester swore to us that she was not the only witch in the city. There are others, many others.” The Councilmen looked at each other in alarm and began to whisper among themselves. I glanced at Martha and saw the surprise on her face, for Hester has denied knowing of other witches in the city. I was not surprised that Rebecca would lie, of course, but I could not help being struck by her audacity in doing so before the Council. At the same time I realized that it was a brilliant stroke: With Hester dead, who could gainsay Rebecca’s words?

  “Mrs. Hooke,” the Lord Mayor said. “Did the witch Hester Jackson tell you who these other witches are?”

  “No, my Lord Mayor,” Rebecca said. “I am afraid she would not go so far as that. It seems even Satan’s handmaidens have a sense of loyalty.”

  “Well then, Mr. Hodgson, what can we do?” the Lord Mayor asked Joseph. “Surely you did not ask us here simply to tell us of the danger.”

  “My Lord Mayor,” Joseph said as he rose once again to his feet. “This is why I called the Council into session. I have a solution.” The murmuring stopped and all eyes settled on Joseph. He and Rebecca could not have planned the meeting any better.

  I stole a glance at Will to see his reaction to his brother’s words, but his face remained a mask.

  “Many of you have heard of witch hangings in other parts of England,” Joseph continued. “Most have been to the south, but today word reached us of witches found in Lancashire.” He passed around copies of the book I’d bought from Newcome, the book that he himself had paid to have printed.

  “It is well known that witches thrive in times of disorder such as those in which we now live. And it is common knowledge that Satan has sent his imps to aid the King’s faction. And now it seems that the devil has sent his witches here in hope of overthrowing this very Council. Why would he do this? Why would he single out York from all the cities in England? Because Satan cannot tolerate our efforts to root out sin and build York into a shining city upon a hill. Gentlemen, Satan has challeng
ed us, and if we do not accept the challenge we shall be defeated. If we do not drive these witches, the devil’s own waiting-women, out from the city, then God will have no more mercy on us than he did on Sodom. If we do not act, God will loose Satan’s hand. We will be destroyed—and rightly so.”

  “Mr. Hodgson, how do you propose we pay for this hunt?” George Breary rose to his feet as he spoke. “We will have to pay the jailors, the Searchers, the lawyers … the expense you are asking the city to bear is no small thing.” Some of the Councilmen were notorious for their parsimony, and I think George hoped to give them pause. If so, he was disappointed, for Joseph was prepared for this line of opposition.

  “Mr. Breary, what price would you put on defending the city against Satan’s assaults?” Joseph’s voice rose as he spoke, making his outrage at George’s words clear to all. “If news came that the King’s armies approached, would we not strengthen the city walls? Would we not build up our store of cannon-shot and gunpowder? Of course we would. The horrible truth is that the enemy is not approaching, no. He is already here; he is already within the city walls. Witches already have murdered a mother and her child. You have no wife, no small children, so you may be safe. But others among us have families. And I must ask you, Mr. Breary, how many of our wives and children must die before you say, I wish we had spent a few shillings to defend the city?”

  George opened his mouth to reply, but Rebecca interrupted. “Members of the Council.” Her voice was as clear and loud as any man’s. “As you know, Richard, my late and beloved husband, had the singular honor of serving on this august body.”

  I suppressed a laugh at her description of her husband. While he was alive, he was never beloved of anyone, least of all her, and his service to the city consisted of sleeping through meetings and voting as she instructed him.

  Rebecca continued, her voice ringing through the hall with no less authority than Joseph’s had. “I would be doing his memory a terrible injustice if I did not take up his standard and defend his city, your city, against the assaults of these devils. Witches are not just murderers; they are rebels against God Himself. In Exodus the Lord commands, Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. Shall we now—even as God makes clear his hatred of England’s sinful ways—turn our backs on His commandments? As His vice-regents on earth, you will be called to account if you fail to do your duty. You must protect the city against these witches just as you would defend it against the Irish horde. Indeed the danger of witches is greater than this, for even now they are within the city, doing the devil’s work.”

  She paused and looked around the table, making sure that she had every Alderman’s attention. She needn’t have worried—they were spellbound.

  “I will not presume to tell you how to act in this matter. But I have seen what witches can do to a child’s body, and I have seen what trafficking with the devil did to Hester Jackson. Because of this I know all too well the depths of the devil’s depravity. But all is not lost, for I also know that you will do God’s will. I know that you will do the right thing for York.” As the Council stared at her in awe, Rebecca turned from the table and strode from the room, her cloak billowing behind her.

  After such a performance, the Council’s vote was a mere formality. Even George voted in favor of beginning the hunt; else he would have been the only one to dissent. Martha and I remained in our hiding place until only George and Will were left in the hall. When we descended the steps, George had an air of resignation about him.

  “There was little you could have done,” I assured him. “Rebecca and Joseph planned that meeting with exquisite care.”

  George nodded. “Perhaps. But I should not have been taken so completely unawares. They are doing battle against Antichrist, and I am counting pennies? Of course the Council voted for Joseph’s motion!”

  George and I said our farewells, and then Will, Martha, and I started for home. I slowed a bit so Will and Martha could walk alone for a while. I heard snatches of conversation and the low laughter that new lovers shared. I remembered such longing from my own youth and smiled.

  The north wind had calmed, and an eerie silence settled over the city as its residents huddled indoors, doing their best to keep safe from the killing cold. The sound of our heels striking the cobbled street reminded me of nothing so much as gunshots echoing off the surrounding buildings. None of us spoke the rest of the way home.

  Hannah met us at the door and started clucking over us like a hen over her chicks. She herded us into the parlor, timbered the fire, and went to the kitchen for spiced wine. Once we’d warmed ourselves, our conversation turned to the night’s events.

  “It seems we were right about Joseph’s scheme,” I said. “The question now is how we can best protect ourselves.”

  Will nodded. “It’s the same as always with Joseph. He sees himself as doing God’s work, and he will not be denied. If we oppose him in any way, he will cast us as enemies both of God and of the city. There can be no opposing the will of God, he’ll say. And after today’s performance, I have no doubt he could turn the Council against us.”

  “So we must tread carefully,” Martha said. “Once the hunt begins in earnest, there is no telling how events will fall.”

  “But with his seat on the Council and her position as Searcher we can be sure that they will fall in Joseph’s and Rebecca’s favor, at least at the outset,” I replied. I shuddered at the havoc such a malign pair could wreak. The three of us talked for an hour or more, until the fire was reduced to embers and the cold had begun to seep into the room. We found no answers to our dilemma. Though it galled each of us, we would simply have to wait for Joseph and Rebecca’s assault, and respond as best we could.

  * * *

  Although the Council made no proclamation about their plans to rid the city of witches, the next day York buzzed in anticipation. Soon it became impossible to go to the market without hearing the word witch or seeing a pamphlet about hangings elsewhere in England. Some had been printed in London or Hull, but I felt sure that a few had sprung from Joseph’s pen as he prepared the city for his bloody scheme.

  The Saturday after the Council meeting, Martha and I passed Peter Newcome as he cried his wares in front of the Minster, and while he still had a variety of coversheets on his board, he shouted up witchcraft more than anything else. He raised his hand in greeting when he saw us, and bowed as we approached.

  “My lady, how goes it today?” he called. Before I could answer, an elderly woman stepped in between us and peered at the board.

  “Have you still got this one?” she asked. “The one about the witches?” She pointed at a pamphlet called The Seven Women Confessors, or A Discovery of the Seven White Devils.

  “Of course, of course,” Newcome said. He nodded at his boy, who dug into their pack and produced the pamphlet. The woman handed the boy two pennies and hurried off, her eyes already glued to the book.

  Newcome smiled at me. “I do apologize, my lady, but when business calls I must answer.”

  “I understand,” I said. “Were I summoned by a mother, I would abandon you in a moment.”

  Newcome laughed at the comparison. “It’s been like this for days,” he said, shaking his head in wonder. “I’ve got stacks of murder books I can’t give away, but if it’s about witches, it sells in an instant. The printer has hired another boy, but even so, he can hardly keep up. I can’t imagine what it will be like once the hangings start.”

  I could not help noticing that he did not say if the hangings start. A gust of wind flew through Bootham Bar and rattled the pages on Newcome’s board. One pamphlet escaped from his pack, and Newcome’s boy scampered after it. I pulled my cloak a little tighter, bid Newcome farewell, and started for home.

  * * *

  Sunday morning came, cold and dark. I stayed in my bed as long as I could, knowing that however cold I might be under my blankets, it would be worse when I climbed out. As the watery winter sun began to chase the shadows from my chamber, Elizabeth
slipped into my bed and curled up beside me.

  “Must we go to church?” she asked.

  Elizabeth’s mother had never been a regular churchgoer, and like so many children Elizabeth found the ceremonies and sermons tedious at best and vexing at worst.

  “It is the law,” I said. “And it is good to pray to the Lord. He shall be very pleased to see you.”

  “But it’s so cold,” she said. “Hannah says that God is in all places. If that is true, He can see me even if I am in the parlor next to the fire.”

  I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

  “We’ll be no colder than anyone else,” I said. “And it is best that all the parish shivers together. If we do not, we might forget the poor entirely, and if that happens, where will the nation be?”

  Will had spent the previous night at Mr. Breary’s, and sent word that he would attend church with him. As a result, Martha, Hannah, Elizabeth, and I had my pew to ourselves for the service. A few months earlier we’d buried old Mr. Wilson, who had served the parish for decades, and since that time we’d been visited by a variety of ministers. Those who came to us from neighboring parishes were not so bad, but most had travelled north from Cambridge with godly zeal boiling their blood. On this day, our minister was one of these. He was not much more than a youth by the look of him, but what he lacked in years he made up for in enthusiasm and volume. From his first words, he roared and shook, moaned and cried. Elizabeth grasped my hand as she stared in apprehension at the spectacle. I glanced at Martha from time to time, and I could see her growing impatient with the preacher, particularly when he finished the second hour of his sermon without showing signs of fatigue. He continued on for another half hour before setting us free.