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The Witch Hunter's Tale(97)

By:Sam Thomas


Half carrying Will, and now crying herself, Martha found her way to a padded bench that sat against the wall. She leaned back and cradled his head in her lap while he sobbed. My heart bled for him, for the two of them, but all I could do was stand to the side, a useless spectator.

After a time, an eternity it seemed, Will pushed himself upright and looked at me.

“You killed him, Aunt Bridget,” he said. His words accused me, but his broken tone begged me to deny the charge.

“Will, I had no choice,” I replied. “I saved your life, and Tree’s life as well. He took Elizabeth!” I could hear my voice rising as I spoke. I crossed the room and knelt at his side, desperate to make him understand my actions.

“He would never have done any of that,” Will insisted. “He would never have let me hang. He was simply seeking an advantage against you. At worst, he would have driven you from the city. We could have left together, all of us.”

“Will, that’s not true,” Martha said. “He sent Mark Preston to kill us both.”

“No.” Will shook his head, unwilling or unable to hear our words. “Joseph would never do such a thing. Preston must have come on his own, without Joseph’s knowledge. He might have murdered Mr. Breary, but my brother would not.”

“Will, your brother was not simply playing at this,” I insisted. “He killed in the war, he hanged the witches, and he would have hanged you and Tree as well.”

“So you joined with Rebecca Hooke to see him hanged. How could you not have consulted me in this? He was my brother. Can you not see that you were in the wrong?”

“All of that is unimportant right now,” a voice announced from behind us. The Lord Mayor had returned. “Joseph Hodgson is dead, and while my powers are wide, I cannot unhang a man.” He smiled to himself, clearly enjoying his little jest. “What concerns me now is not his past but your future.

“Lady Hodgson, I have seen your nephew’s worth,” the Lord Mayor continued. “And I have determined to keep him with me. He is a capable young man, and in our present times such men are invaluable.”

“He does not need you,” I snapped. “With Joseph dead, Will has come into his father’s estate.”

The Lord Mayor shook his head sadly, but the sorrow did not reach his eyes. “It is a terrible thing. The war took its toll, and Joseph did not have half the head for trade that his father did. It took only a few months, but he borrowed far beyond his ability to pay. There is nothing left, not even the house.”

“And I presume the debts are owed to you?” I asked.

“Among many others on the Council,” the Lord Mayor said. “But I am not such a fool as to turn Will onto the street. I have offered him a place in my house, and he has accepted. I am certain that he will serve me well.”

“And what of George Breary’s estate? You burned his will, but surely some provision can be made for Will out of his fortune.”

Greenbury offered a pained smile. “The only surviving will is from last year. According to its terms Will and Mr. Breary’s other godchildren will receive five pounds each. The rest of his estate will go to a cousin.”

“A cousin?” I asked.

“In Durham of all places.” Greenbury turned to Will. “By burning Mr. Breary’s papers, I have done you a grave disservice. I am genuinely sorry for that, but there is nothing I can do.”

Will did not reply.

“Will may stay in York but the two of you are less welcome in the city.” Greenbury turned back to Martha and me. “Indeed, I have come to mislike your presence above all others.”

“We have done nothing,” Martha started to object.

“Nothing?” Greenbury gasped. “You were entirely wrapped up in the business of witches. You killed Mark Preston, and you sent Joseph Hodgson to the gallows. If that is nothing, I cannot stand idly by and wait for you to do something. The city might not survive it.”

I wanted desperately to point out that my hand had been forced in each of these cases, but I knew my words would have no effect. “You cannot drive me from the city,” I said softly.

The expression on the Lord Mayor’s face made it clear that I’d overstepped my bounds.

“Cannot, my lady? Do you presume to tell me what I cannot do?” His words had the sound of newly forged steel, and I knew that there would be no appealing his decision. “Your brother Edward is dead,” Greenbury continued. “George Breary is dead. Your nephew is a pauper in my service. Who will defend you? You have no friends beyond the city’s gossips, nothing to protect you except your name and your wealth. At other times your name alone might have been enough to save you, but we do not live in other times. You remain in York at my pleasure, and my pleasure has run its course.”