“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.
The judge demanded quiet, and the crowd complied. The charges against Joseph were announced, and the bailiff summoned Rebecca and asked her name. I should have known that something was amiss as soon as she began to speak, for she’d abandoned the stentorian voice she’d used to address the Aldermen and now sounded meek and compliant. I pushed my worries aside, but they returned in force as soon the prosecutor asked her about the book containing the names of all York’s witches.
“I thought I saw it, and that’s what I told the Council,” she said softly. “But I may have been wrong. It may have just been a bead-roll of the Town Watch or the garrison.”
I heard Martha gasp, and I am quite sure that the surprise on my face was a match for the prosecutor’s. The crowd began to murmur as well—this was not what they expected.
The prosecutor did his best to recover himself before returning to his questions. “You told the Lord Mayor himself that you’d seen a list of witches’ names, a list written in the devil’s own hand,” he insisted. “You told the entire Council that Mr. Hodgson had bewitched you!”
“That is what I believed,” Rebecca sighed. “But I am no longer so sure. The book might have been something else. And it might not have been Mr. Hodgson who bewitched me, for he is known to love the Lord above all else. Someone else may have bewitched me. I cannot say if I was bewitched at all. I am but a poor widow, and easily misled.”
With those words it seemed as if a riot had broken out in the hall. Some dashed from the room to tell those outside what had happened, and everyone present seemed compelled to discuss the matter with his neighbor.
I grasped Martha’s hand as I tried to control the panic that welled up within me. What in God’s name was Rebecca doing? I looked at Joseph and found him staring at me. When our eyes met, an infernal smile crossed his face. His mouth seemed to form the words I told you so, but with all the noise I could not hope to hear him.
With a wave of his hand, the prosecutor dismissed Rebecca from her testimony.