CHAPTER XLIII

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 pa.s.sed 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 overpa.s.sed 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 pa.s.s 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 pa.s.sed 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, n.o.ble 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; "G.o.d 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 gra.s.s; 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 G.o.d, because with enchantments they did horrible works.'

"Now, men may by conspicuous bravery guard their lives against a.s.sault by the sword of the enemy, against the spear of the invader that cometh over the wall, even against the knife of the a.s.sa.s.sin. 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 h.e.l.lish purposes she desired and compa.s.sed the death of the most n.o.ble 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 n.o.blest, 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 n.o.ble 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 pa.s.s upon the witch-woman who by her deed sent forth untimely the spirit of the most n.o.ble 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 m.u.f.fled 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 G.o.d, 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 mult.i.tude 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 ma.s.s 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.