Novels 03 The Wise Woman Read online

  Alys rose from the table and followed him from the room. She saw David’s acute glance at the whiteness of her face and the slope of her shoulders.

  “Does it fare merrily with you, Alys?” he asked. “Merrily, merrily?”

  She looked at him without bothering to conceal her dislike. “I thank you for your wishes,” she said. “I hope they come back to you threefold.”

  The dwarf scowled. He clenched his hand into the fist with thumb between second and third fingers, the old protection against witchcraft, crossed himself with the fist, and kissed his thumb.

  Alys laughed in his glowering face. “Mind Father Stephen does not see you,” she said. “He would accuse you of popish practices!”

  The dwarf muttered something behind her as Alys, with her head high, followed the old lord down the stairs and into the great hall.

  Hugo and Stephen were placed either side of Lord Hugh, Stephen on his right in honor of his return to the castle and to mark the old lord’s favor. And the power of the new church, Alys thought sourly. Alys was seated on the other side of Stephen.

  She said nothing while the servers brought the silver ewers and bowls and Lord Hugh and then all of them washed their hands and dried them on the napkins. David watched over the pouring of the wine and then the pottage was served.

  “Are you well, Mistress Alys?” Stephen asked her courteously.

  “I thank you, yes,” Alys replied. “A little weary. My lord has made me work hard this morning. He had to reply to the king’s letters and we have the sheriff’s court here this afternoon.”

  “Hugo and I have added to the burdens of the court,” Stephen said. “We took up a witch today.”

  The tables nearest to the high table fell silent, the diners strained forward to listen. Most people crossed themselves. Alys felt her throat tighten.

  “My lord!” she exclaimed. She glanced down the table at Hugo. “God keep you both safe and well!”

  “That is my prayer,” Stephen said. “And it is my duty to preserve myself and my bishop’s diocese from these evil creatures.” He glanced around him and raised his voice so that they could all hear him. “There is no defense against witchcraft except fasting, penitence, and prayer,” he said. “No subscribing to another witch to protect you. That way you fall deeper and deeper into the hands of the one who is their master, who stalks this earth seeking for souls. The true church of England will protect you by seeking out all witches and destroying them, root and branch, even down to the smallest, least twig.”

  There was silence. Stephen was impressive.

  “Yes,” Alys said. “We must all be glad of your vigilance.”

  He turned his head to her. “I have not forgotten the injustice of your ordeal,” he said softly so that no one else could hear. “I carry it with me in my heart, to remind me to avoid popish practices like the ordeal and to keep my own conscience in these matters. I never use the ordeal in my work. I question—question with sight of the rack, and then with torture only where necessary—but I never test a witch with an ordeal any more. I made a mistake that day in giving way to Lord Hugh and Lady Catherine. I have never made that mistake again.”

  “But you torture?” Alys asked. Her voice trembled slightly. She sipped her wine.

  “Only as it is ordered, for those suspected of felonies,” Stephen replied gently. “The law is strict in this matter. First comes questioning, then showing the rack to the prisoner and questioning again, and then, and only then, is questioning under torture allowed. When I know I am doing God’s work in this godless world, and obeying the law in this lawless world, I can do my duty without anger or malice; or fear that I am doing wrong through my own blindness.”

  Alys stretched her hand to her wine again. She saw it was shaking. She hid both her hands in her lap, out of sight under the damask tablecloth.

  “And who is this witch you took up today?” she asked.

  “The old woman you accused,” Stephen said. “The old woman who lives by the river on the moor. We were riding out that way hunting and we met with the soldiers who were taking her over the border to Westmorland—as you desired.”

  “There must be some mistake,” Alys said breathlessly. “I never accused her of being a witch. She frightened me. She came on me alone in the wood. She called me by another name. But she was a harmless old woman. No witch.” Alys could hardly speak over the noise of her pulse in her head. She had no breath for anything more than short sentences.

  Stephen shook his head. “When we stopped to see that they handled her gently—soldiers like a game, you know—she asked who we were and when we told her Hugo’s name, she cursed him.”

  “She would not!” Alys exclaimed.

  Stephen nodded. “She named him as the destroyer of the nunnery and of the holy places. She said that he would die without an heir because he had done blasphemy and sacrilege and that the vengeance of her god was upon him. She called on him to repent before more women voided the devil’s slime, which is all that he can father. And she begged him to release a woman named Ann. That was the last thing she said—let her go!”

  “This is awful,” Alys said. “But just the ravings of a madwoman.”

  Stephen shook his head. “I have been appointed by my bishop to search out these witches,” he said. “There is one in every village, there are dozens in every town. We must root them out. People are frail, they run to these wizards in times of trouble instead of fasting and praying. The devil is everywhere and these are troubled times. We have to fight against the devil, we have to fight against witches.”

  Alys gave a trembling little laugh. “You are frightening me!” she protested.

  Stephen broke off. “Forgive me,” he said. “I did not mean to. I am hot in the pursuit of evil, I forgot your condition and the delicacy of your sex.”

  There was a little pause.

  “And this mad old woman,” Alys said lightly. “Won’t you let her go? I should be sorry if my complaint against her brought her to this charge.”

  Stephen shook his head. “You misunderstand the seriousness of her crime,” he said. “When she speaks of her god it is clear she is speaking of the devil, for we know that the Holy God does not curse men. He sends misfortune to try them, for love of them. When she speaks of Hugo as a destroyer of the popish false church, it is the devil crying out against our glorious crusade. We are snatching souls from the devil every day. He enjoyed an easy time with the Romish priests feeding people with lies and fears and superstitions and magic of all kinds. Now we are pushing the light of God across the country and casting the devil—and his followers like this old woman—into the fiery furnace.”

  The brightness of the sunlight through the high east windows dazzled Alys, the room was spinning around her as Stephen spoke. “Oh don’t!” she said, in sudden agony. “Stephen, remember how it was for me when you gave me the ordeal. Remember my terror! Spare this poor old woman and send her away, send her to Scotland! Send her to France! Spare the foolish old thing. She did not know what she was saying, she is mad. I saw it when I met her. She is mad.”

  “Then how did she know of Catherine’s illness, if not through sorcery?” Stephen asked. “It has been kept most quiet. Only you and Catherine’s ladies and Hugo knew of it. Not even my Lord Hugh knew of her scouring white slime.”

  “These things are talked of,” Alys said rapidly. “Gossip is everywhere. She is probably one of those horrible old women who sit in the chimney seat and chatter all day. I sent her a gown and some food, she probably gossiped with the messenger. Don’t burn her for being a foolish, ugly, old woman, Stephen!”

  “We won’t burn her,” Stephen said.

  Alys looked up into his pale, determined face. “You won’t?” she asked. “I thought you said you would cast her into the fire.”

  “I meant that when she dies she must face the flames of hell, the fire of the afterlife,” Stephen said.

  “Oh,” Alys said. “I misunderstood you.” She breathed out on a li