THE TRIAL FOR WITCHCRAFT
The Bed of Justice was set by eight of the morning. For they were ever
early astir in the city of Thorn, though, like most early risers, they
did little enough afterwards all day.
With a sadly beating heart, I accompanied Dessauer in the same guise as
on the previous day. The crowd was even greater in and about the Hall of
Judgment. And when the Duke had taken his seat and his tools set
themselves down on either side, they brought in the Little Playmate.
She was dressed all in white, clean and spotless, in spite of prison
usage. She glanced just once about her, right and left, high and low, as
if seeking for a face she could not see, and from thenceforth she looked
down on the ground.
The argument as to torture had been concluded on the day before, and it
had been held inadmissible--not because of any kindly thought for the
prisoner, but because, according to the laws of the Wolfmark, in the
absence of the Hereditary Executioner, there was no one legally capable
of inflicting it.
Then came the evidence.
The first witness against the Little Playmate was old Hanne. She was
brought in by a cowled monk of dark and sinister appearance--in fact, as
my heart leaped to observe, I saw that she was accompanied by Friar
Laurence--he who had taught me my learning in the old days, and who
even then had watched the Little Playmate with no friendly eyes.
As she passed the judges I saw the deadly fear mount to agony on the face
of old Hanne. The look in her eyes of physical pain suffered and
overpassed was the same which I had often seen in the wars after the
surgeon has done his horrid work. That same look I saw now on the face of
Hanne. So I knew that somewhere in the dark recesses under the Hall of
Judgment the Extreme Question had been put to her, and to all appearance
answered according to the liking of the persecutors, though they dared
not torture so notable a public prisoner as Helene.
I saw a look of satisfied vindictiveness pass over the brutal features of
Duke Otho. He changed his position and whispered to his colleagues.
It was Master Gerard von Sturm who rose to put the questions to the
witness. And as he did so, I heard the steady sough of talk among the
people rise mutteringly in a low growl of anger and contempt. The Duke's
lictors struck right and left among the crowd, as men bent forward with
fierce hate in their voices, lowing like oxen, as if to clear their lungs
of a weight of contempt.
It was not thus in the old days, when there was no people's arbiter
in all the Wolfmark so famous or so popular as Master Gerard of the
Weiss Thor.
"What is the reason of that turmoil?" said I to my neighbor.
"This is the man who was her first accuser. Why, he dares not go outside
his house without a guard of the Duke's riders," said the man, picking at
his finger-nail with his teeth, as if it were a bone and he did not think
much of its savoriness.
"You have already confessed," said the advocate to old Hanne, when they
had propped up the poor wreck of skin and bone, "and you do now confess
that this maid and yourself have ofttimes had converse with the Enemy
of Souls?"
A spasm passed across the face of the witness, and a low sound proceeded
from her mouth, which might have been an affirmative answer, but which
sounded to me much more like a moan of pain.
"And you confess that she consulted you concerning the best means of
killing the Duke Casimir--by means of a draught to be administered to him
when he should, as was his custom, visit his Hereditary Justicer?"
"There was indeed a draught spoken of between us, noble sir," stammered
the old woman, "but it was not for the Duke Casimir, nor yet for--for any
evil purpose."
I saw the Friar Laurence incline his head a little forward and whisper in
Hanne's ear from his place behind her.
At the words she clasped her hands and fell on the floor, grovelling: "I
will say aught that you bid me, kind sir. I cannot bear it again. I
cannot go back to that place. I am too old to be tormented. I will bear
what testimony your excellencies desire."
"We wish only that you should tell the truth as you have already done of
your own free will in your pre-examination," said Master Gerard, "the
notes of which are before me. Was it not to kill the Duke Casimir that
this draught was compounded?"
The old woman hesitated. Friar Laurence stooped again.
"Yes!" she cried; "God forgive me--yes!"
An evil look of triumph sat on the face of Otho von Reuss. I think he
felt sure of his victim now.
"That is enough," said Master Gerard. "Take the old woman back to
her cell."
"Oh no, great Lord!" she cried, "not there! You promised that if I said
it I was to be let go free. Kill me, but do not send me back!"
The Duke moved his hand, and the old woman was led shrieking below.
Then came Friar Laurence, who testified that he had often seen old Hanne
instructing the young woman who was now a prisoner in the art of drugs,
in the preparation of images carven in dough--and it might be also in
clay--things well known in the art of witchery.
Further, he had been with the Duke Casimir at the last, and the Duke had
declared that he had partaken of a draught in the house of Gottfried
Gottfried, and immediately thereafter had been taken ill.
There was not much else of matter in the Friar's evidence, but the most
deep and vindictive malice against the prisoner was evident in every word
and gesture.
Then Master Gerard rose to address the judges. His venerable appearance
was enhanced by the sternly severe look on his face. He looked an
accusing angel from the pit, swart of skin and with eyes of flame. He was
tall and bent of figure, with the serpent-browed head set deep between
hunched shoulders like those of a moulting vulture. He grasped his bundle
of papers and rose to make his final speech.
The judges settled themselves to closer attention. The hush of
listening folk broadened to the utmost limits of the great hall. At a
whisper or a cough a hundred threatening faces were turned in the
direction of the sound, so strained was the attention of the people and
such the fear of the eloquence of this most famous pleader in all
Germany. In these days when learning has reached so great a pitch, and
is so general that in a largish city there may be as many as a thousand
people who can read and write, of course there are many eloquent men.
But in those days it was not so, and Grerard von Sturm was counted the
one Golden Mouth of the Wolfmark.
And this in brief was the matter of his speech. The manner and the
persuasive grace I cannot attempt to give:
"It has at all times been a received opinion of the wise that witchcraft
is a thing truly practised--by which such women as the Witch of Endor in
Holy Writ were able to call dead men out of their deep graves grown with
grass; or, as in that famous case of Demarchaus, who, having by the
advice of such a woman tasted the flesh of a sacrificed child, was
immediately turned into a wolf.
"Further, the testimony-of Scripture is clear: 'Thou shalt not suffer a
witch to live'; and, again, as sayeth the Wise Man, 'Thou hast hated
them, 0 God, because with enchantments they did horrible works.'
"Now, men may by conspicuous bravery guard their lives against assault by
the sword of the enemy, against the spear of the invader that cometh over
the wall, even against the knife of the assassin. But who shall be able
to keep out witchcraft? It moveth in the motes of the mid-day sun. It
comes stealing into the room on the pale beams of the moon. Witchcraft
rides in the hurtling blast, and shrieks in the gust which shakes the
roof and blows awry the candle in the hall.
"Enchantment can summon Azazeli, the Lord of Flesh and Blood, called in
another place the Lord of the Desert, by whose spiriting of the elements
even the pure water of the spring or the juice of the purple grape may
become noxious as the brew of the serpent's poison-bag.
"Of such a sort was the ill-doing of this woman. For her own hellish
purposes she desired and compassed the death of the most noble Duke
Casimir. There may be those who try to discover a motive for such an act.
But in this they do foolishly. For to those who have studied of this
matter, as I have done, it is well known that enchanters and witches ever
attack those who are the greatest, the noblest, and the most envied--not
hoping for any good to result to themselves, but out of pure malice and
envy, being prompted by the devil in order that the great and noble
should be destroyed out of the land. Well was it spoken then, 'Ye shall
not suffer a witch to live!'
"And if any plead hereafter of this evil-doer's youth, of her beauty, I
call you to witness that the Evil One ever makes his best implement of
the fairest metal. As the aged crone, her teacher and accomplice, hath
confessed, this Helene was for long a plotter of dark deeds. By the trust
of Duke Casimir in her maiden's innocence he was betrayed to death. That
one so fair and evil should be turned loose on the world to begin anew
her enchantments, and, like a pestilence, to creep into good men's
houses, is a thing not to be thought of. Is she to go forth breathing
death upon the faces of the young children, to sit squat, like hideous
toad, sucking the blood of the new-born infant, or distilling
poison-drops to put into the draughts of strong men which shall run like
molten iron through their veins till they go mad?
"Hear me, judges, I bid you again remember the word: 'Ye shall not suffer
a witch to live.' And in the name of the great unbroken law of the
Wolfmark, which I hold in my hand, I conclude by claiming the pains of
death to pass upon the witch-woman who by her deed sent forth untimely
the spirit of the most noble Duke Casimir, Lord of the city of Thorn and
Duke of the Wolfmark."
The pleader sat down, calmly as he had risen, and the judges conferred
together as though they were on the point of delivering their verdict.
There had been no sound of applause as Master Gerard had spoken--a hushed
attention only, and then the muffled thunder of the great audience
relaxing its attention and of men turning to whispered discussion among
themselves.
"Prisoner," said Duke Otho, "have you any to speak for you? Or do
you desire to make any answer to the things which have been urged
against you?"
Then, thrilling me to my soul, arose the voice of Helene. Clear and sweet
and girlish, without hurry or fear, yet with an innocence which might
have touched the hardest heart, the maiden upon trial for her life said a
simple word or two in her defence.
"I have no one to speak for me. I have nothing to say, save that which I
have said so often, that before God, who knows all things, I am innocent
of thought, word, or deed against any man, and most of all against Duke
Casimir of the Wolfsberg."
And as she spoke the multitude was stirred, and voices broke out here
and there:
"No witch!" "She is innocent!" "The guilty are among the judges!" "Saint
Helena!" "If she die we will avenge her!"
And though the lictors struck furiously every way, they could not settle
the tumult, and ever the mass of folk swayed more wildly to and fro. Nor
do I know what might have happened at that moment but for a cry that
arose in front of the throng.
"The Stranger! The Great Doctor! The Wise Man! Hear him! He is going to
speak for her!"