The Witch Hunter's Tale(22)

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.”