The Witch Hunter's Tale(15)

“What did you make of Hester?” Martha asked.

“She is a confessed witch, and she will hang,” I replied. “But I cannot believe that Joseph and Rebecca came together to hang one woman.”

Martha nodded. “There must be more to their scheming than that.”

“And until we find out what it is we will have to watch them both as best we can.”

When we got home, I wrote a letter to George Breary describing our visit to the Castle, and advising him to beware. I do not know what game Mr. Hodgson and Mrs. Hooke are playing, I concluded, but I feel sure that it is far from over.

* * *

That night I took my time putting Elizabeth to bed. To her great pleasure, I drew out every moment, making sure the water for her face and hands was neither too hot nor too cold, and spending extra time cleaning her teeth. We lay in her bed and read from a horn book, one that Birdy had used when she was learning her letters. I doubted that Elizabeth’s mother had been able to read—what whore could do so?—so it was no great surprise that Elizabeth knew only a few of her letters when she came to me. When I’d proposed she learn to read, she laughed in delight as if I’d suggested teaching her to fly. In the few months that she’d been in my house she’d proven herself a quick study, and constantly begged me, Martha, and especially Will to read to her.

“Ma?” Elizabeth asked suddenly. Only then did I realize that my mind had drifted.

“Yes, little one?”

“I heard they will hang a witch tomorrow.” She looked up at me, her blue eyes filled with apprehension.

“Yes,” I said.

“Did she really bewitch a little boy?”

“Yes, she did.”

“And he died?”

“I’m afraid so. And now he is with God.”

“Why did she bewitch him?” Elizabeth asked. “Was he wicked?”

“No, he did nothing wrong,” I said. “She was angry at the boy’s father and cursed him. But the boy died instead.”

Elizabeth nodded solemnly. “Did you know the witch?”

Though she’d only been with me for a short time, Elizabeth had realized I was well-known within York. Over the years I had delivered hundreds of women before thousands of their gossips, so such a question was not strange in the least.

“I saw her today,” I replied. “Why do you ask?”

“I wondered if she was frightening,” she replied. “Is she going to bewitch other children?”

I thought about that day’s visit to the Castle and shook my head. “No, she is not frightening,” I said. “Not anymore. She is old, sad, and frightened.”

“Then she can’t hurt any more children?”

“No,” I replied. “She is past that.”

“And tomorrow she’ll be hanged,” Elizabeth concluded, clearly satisfied with Hester’s fate.

“And tomorrow she’ll be hanged,” I agreed, and dimmed the lamp. Elizabeth snuggled into my side and wrapped her arms around me. We prayed for our household, our city, and the King. I added a silent prayer that God would be a fair and impartial judge when Hester Jackson stood before Him, and then said a prayer of thanks for Elizabeth.

But even as I prayed, I worried for the future. Elizabeth delighted in talk of the sprites that lived in the city’s orchards and sometimes took the shape of mice or moles. If she saw our cat Sugar stalking some creature or another in our garden, she would cry out, Beware, beware, it could be a sprite. If you get too close, he will turn your whiskers into daisies! Until Hester’s arrest, I delighted in such talk. But now the idea of a magical animal chilled me to the bone. It was but a short step from Elizabeth’s sprites to Hester’s Satanical imp.

I could not imagine anyone accusing Elizabeth of witchcraft, but what if I was wrong?





Chapter 5

On the morning after Hester Jackson’s execution, the December wind brought nearly a foot of snow. While I had seen snow before, not even York’s oldest residents could remember seeing such a storm, and many worried what it might portend. The city’s Puritans, Joseph chief among them, cried out that God’s fury at England’s sinful ways had not yet run its course. They put their spurs into the constables and beadles, ordering them to redouble their efforts to suppress sin. By the time the storm ended, dozens of whores and drunkards found themselves in the city’s gaols. I was amazed the City Council would tolerate Joseph’s campaign—they had tried the same thing the previous summer and it had ended in a sea of blood. Had they learned nothing?

Elizabeth, of course, had never before seen so much snow, and begged with such fervency for me to take her out that I could not deny her. I worried that the cold would leave her phlegmatic, but she skipped gaily along, not minding it in the least. When we entered the Thursday Market I was relieved to see that the gallows had been taken down. I did not want Elizabeth to be reminded of Hester’s fate.