To Suffer A Witch

Prologue

So, this idea has been bouncing around in my head since, like, January. Every time I try to focus on my other stories, my head just keeps bringing me back to this. Thank goodness it's now October and I can finally start posting it! Yay!! I'm hoping that getting it written and posted will help my brain to get back on track with TDoP and Upside. Fingers crossed...

Anywho, hope you like my Hiccstrid Halloween Special :)

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"Culpavaris or Non-culpavaris?"

After barely a moment's tense silence, several voices replied in unison. "Culpavaris."

Following this pronouncement, the crowded courtroom erupted. Cries of 'burn the witches' and 'Devil's whores' spewing forth as the excitable townsfolk bayed out their conviction. Their bellows melding with the wails of the condemned until one could scarcely hear themselves think. The Justice's pitiful calls to order falling on deaf ears - just as much as the pleas for mercy from those poor lost souls whom had just been sentenced to death.

It was the Year-of-his-Lord 1645 in Essex and 15 women had just been found guilty of witchcraft. The most of any trial to date in the British Isles. It was a landmark moment for one man in particular. He was Matthew Hopkins, a devout young Puritan on a mission, and his name would soon be known throughout the land. He was also the machine of cunning behind this record achievement.

Armed with ruthless determination, unwavering faith, and King James IV's Daemonologie for guidance, he and his associate John Sterne had worked tirelessly to gain a confession from the first witch. Elizabeth Clarke had been an old beggar woman singled out by a local tailor as the source of his wife's mysterious ailments. It was not overly difficult to convince the rest of the village of this either. Aged, cantankerous, and lame, the widowed Clarke with her one missing leg and tendency to curse was certainly not well liked. John Sterne was given permission to investigate the claim, and young Hopkins quickly offered to assist in the matter.

It took two whole days of sleep deprivation, and several body searches by the 'Searchers' to finally get the old woman to confess, but confess she did. Once her Devil's Mark was found, the old woman knew she'd been caught out anyways. She told them all about how the Devil had come to her many years ago and offered her the power to heal. Stating that he had been well mannered, handsome, and dressed as a right proper gentleman. "More of a gentleman than you shall ever be," she had sneered rudely at Hopkins.

After admitting her own guilt, she had eventually given up the names of the others within her coven. Those in turn offered up even more names upon questioning. A grand total of 36 in fact. One of whom, a young woman by the name of Rebecca West, was even willing to give evidence against the rest in return for her freedom. Truthfully, the alternative was death by hanging, so it really had not been much of a choice for the young maiden.

High on his victory, Hopkins sat quietly beside Sterne. Refusing to tarnish his carefully cultured image by joining in the heckling, he allowed only a smug smirk to grace his lips as he gazed back at the group of blasphemers he had just helped bring to justice. He could not stop here though. There were still so many more witches to coerce confessions out of and Hopkins was convinced that he was the man to do it. And really, in a time of Civil War, who else was up to the task?

Amidst the chaos, another young man stood silently near the back of the courtroom instead. His clever green eyes scanning the goings-on with apparent disinterest, though the slight turning down of his mouth gave hint that he was actually rather displeased by what he saw. His unusually tall stature still allowing him a decent view of the bench despite the flailing bodies in the rows before him. As his gaze landed on the proud Mr. Hopkins however, his frown grew more pronounced. Eyes narrowing as the lower lids drew upwards.