Ring of Fire(142)
Fred's mouth bunched up in a suppressed smile and he shook his head. "As much as I criticized it before the Ring of Fire, I'm starting to miss the American criminal justice system."
* * *
Reverend Jones opened the door to find a large, dirty sack sitting at the stairs. A young man was walking away and towards a police truck.
"Hey, there! What's this about?" Reverend Jones asked.
The young man got into the truck before answering.
"Don't ask. It ain't a perfect world. Just put it to good use, Reverend." The truck pulled away.
It ain't a perfect world, the minister thought. That would be a good intro into my next sermon.
He leaned over to pick up the sack, and was caught off guard by the odor.
* * *
"Thanks Ms. Nichols," Dave said. "Don't be too gentle on him, though."
"He's a cutie; I can't make any promises!" Sharon replied, before turning to Gerd. "What happened to you, anyway?"
"I . . . uh . . . plead the fifth," Gerd stammered.
"Hey Gerd!" Dave hollered from the truck.
"Yes?" Gerd replied.
"If you have any other dark secrets in your past, can you get them sorted out before you come home? I'd just as soon not risk getting in the way!" The truck pulled away before Gerd could respond.
"Dark secrets, huh?" Sharon asked, dubious, as she led Gerd into the first aid tent.
"I plead the fourth? I thought it was the fifth! The sixth then?"
A Witch to Live
Walt Boyes
A. M. D. G.
He looked at the letters he'd just written at the top of the page. "Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam," he breathed. "To the greater glory of God." He calmed himself as he had been taught in his novitiate, and began to write.
"Father Friedrich von Spee, of the Society of Jesus, to His Excellency, Mutius Vitelleschi, Father General of the Society," he wrote.
* * *
Branches slapped her face, roots grabbed at her feet. Veronica ran, exhausted and terrified. The forest was dark and there was no moon. She could hear the baying of the dogs behind her. Were they getting closer? She couldn't tell. She ran on. Her breath was tearing in her lungs. The pounding of her heart felt like hammer blows throughout her body. Behind her, the baying grew louder.
Suddenly she broke into a clearing. She had been braced to push branches out of her way and their sudden absence sent her sprawling. She spat the dirt and leaves from her mouth and scrabbled to her feet, swaying. She turned and faced back the way she'd run. Her face shaped a rictus of terror. She slowly backed up as the first dogs broke through the brush into the clearing.
She put up her arms to try to defend herself against the fangs of the dogs and kept backing up. She started as her back came up against something. It was the stump of a tree. She whirled around it, trying to keep it between her and the dogs. The stump was thin, only about a foot in diameter, and broken off just above her head. It was too small to hide behind, and too short to climb. The dogs snapped and snarled around her.
Voices and then horses and men carrying torches burst from the forest. A troop of cavalry surrounded the clearing and a couple of troopers took their crops and beat the dogs off the woman. The packmaster collected the dogs to one side of the clearing as two of the riders dismounted.
"Well, Father Eberhardt, what have we here?" The taller of the two spoke. He was tall, run to fat, and wearing a back and breast that could have used a polish. His pot helmet was still lashed to his saddle horn. "The witch, as I live and breathe!" In the torchlight, she could see the grin on his face, and her heart stuttered in her chest.
"Veronica Junius; the witch indeed," Father Eberhardt replied, pulling out his prayerbook. "Get her tied up and we can take her back."
"What for? We've got a nice stake she's hugging there. Let's burn her right here and get it over with."
"Captain, please," the priest bridled like a banty rooster. "There are forms we must follow. She has been found guilty of witchcraft, yes. But only in an ecclesiastical court. She must be relaxed to the civil arm, tried again and then you can burn her. Tomorrow. In Würzburg."
"What? And give that damned Jesuit, Von Spee, a chance to try to get her off? You heard what he wrote in his devil-inspired book, didn't you? She's a witch! She needs to burn! You know what she knows! We will take her to Suhl!"
Eberhardt spluttered as the soldier's fist grabbed his soutane and lifted him partway off his feet.