The Accused Girl and the Inquisitor


William held the reins of his horse, pulled on the brake of his small cart, and descended from the driver’s bench.
He could see the village’s name on the square’s board. This was the right place.
It was big for a village, but not by much. He'd be surprised if more than 200 people lived here. He had passed the fields as he entered.
There was some excitement at the town's centre, so he checked his belongings once more.
Musket slung over his shoulder. Sabre on the sheath hanging from his belly. Gunpowder and bullets on two separate horns, along with other substances that were often helpful in cases like this. On his neck, a silver crucifix hung from a long chain.
With the letter from Saint Paul's Cathedral in hand, he moved to the people at the crowd's centre, two men and a woman, all above 70 years.
“Greetings. I'm the Inquisitor William Clyde.” He tilted his red hat's brim. “I understand there's some report of witchcraft over here.”
One of the elders nodded, and walked towards him. On his hands, there were several sheets of paper, that he handed over as he explained. William took them, and read them as the older man raised his raspy voice.
“Indeed, you Holiness. Bless you for coming all the way here. We started to fear the Church has abandoned us. I am Thomas, and I organise the farmers around here.“ He explained. In a small, farm dependant town like this, he might as well be the chief. William assumed this Thomas was the highest authority currently.
“Every accusation of witchcraft is a serious matter.” Answered William. “So, the accused girl is called Edris, I believe?”
“That would be right.” Answered the old man. “She’s the daughter of a logger. That girl... has always been a bit weird. But lately...”
William nodded as he went over the list. Some of the accusations were, frankly, so stupid they should not have been taken seriously by the priest. Others... held some merit.
“She gives drinks that turn the urine black... a cold draught that nearly took a child’s sight... what is this?” Asked William.
One of the other men, standing close, took a step forward to join the conversation.
“This is the nonsense the girl gets up to. She believes to know more than I, and has been giving medicines and remedies to the townsfolk when I am unable to do so.”
William raised his eyes, barely, to observe the new talking man.
“And you would be?”
“Jeremy Stephenson, your Holiness. I am the town’s apothecary.” Answered the man. William went over the list of accusations again, and looked at the apothecary, who seemed to be about 40 years old.
“I see. You are one of several whose proposals have been rejected by the accused. Am I wrong?” He asked, once again barely looking at the individual. It was still enough to turn him red.
“... Yes. But that has nothing to do. That girl... there is genuinely something wrong with her. I mean, heavens, she talks to plants. And laughs as if they talk back!”
William merely nodded, adding no commentary. The woman next to the village elder took a step forward.
“Indeed. The girl does nothing other than reject every single suitor that approaches her. Already of age, and still insisting on being alone. Furthermore...”
As if scandalised by her own coming words, the woman looked around first and leaned forward, as if trying to say a hushed secret. That would be believable, if she had lowered her voice at all.
“My son and the cheesemaker’s are friends, and go to the stream at times at night. They saw her dance naked under the moon’s light!”
William nodded as he looked for the sheet with that accusation.
“Indeed. Strange brands on her skin, pagan dances, and supposedly dancing naked in the forest...”
He could see about three of four more people approach, and in that moment, William realised that this was not quite the time to ask more questions.
“Will somebody tell me anything that wasn’t already written down on the testimony sheets?”
He asked the approaching townsfolk. After considering it for a moment, noting his rather stern gaze, the boys and men stopped approaching, staring at the ground and keeping silence.
“She spreads the plagues of the land.” Said after a moment an elderly farmer. “The plagues that eat at my potatoes, she goes and spreads them further. And the well’s water burnt my niece’s tongue when he tried a drinkin’.”
That was a new statement, so William wrote that down. Once the final statement had been recorded, and nobody had anything else to add, he turned to Thomas.
“Where is the accused girl currently?” He asked. The elder stuttered a bit before answering.
“We... have no dungeon here. Other than the church’s basement. She’s tied to a post there.”
“Where is the priest? I need a conversation with him.”
“The reverend preaches at Avondale. He comes here only for solemn things such as baptisms, weddings and burials.”
William took another look at the church. The reason was probably because it was more of a small chapel than anything else. He now understood better the comment about the ‘Church abandoning them’.
“Where is the accused girl’s family?”
“Both have passed, your Holiness. Mother didn’t survive the birth. The father... it’s a bit more than a year since he passed.” The elder replied.
William looked once more the entrance to the chapel, and checked his gear once more.
“Understood. Then, I’ll go converse with the accused. Alone.” He clarified, hand posed atop his sabre’s hilt.
Nobody objected, and the villagers stepped aside to clear the way to the chapel.


Going downstairs, in a warehouse turned dungeon, where only some small amount of light filtered through the small windows, he could see the little ‘witch’.
She was a young lady. At least, she seemed younger than the usual accused women.
Ashen blonde hair. That was what first leap at him, particularly since the long bangs covered one eye. Maybe after washing herself, it’d look beautiful, but after an handful of days tied to the column, barely eating and taking care of her needs, it was dirty and messy. The eye he could see was green, and her expression was a mix of tiredness, wariness, and fright.
Her hands were tied behind her back with a rough hemp rope, tying her to one of the chapel's columns. Her ankles, too, were tied to each other.
The accused loudly swallowed. Who could fault her? The village was half convinced already that she was a witch. All that was seemingly left was for William to confirm that so she could hang.
“Greetings. I am William Clyde. Inquisitor, sent from St. Paul’s.” He introduced himself, approaching the accused. “I am here because you are suspected of committing crimes of witchcraft, Edris Guynn.”
The girl did not immediately react to that information. She knew very well what he came for, and the name of her executioner wasn’t some she was losing sleep over.
“Before the interrogation begins proper, how do you plea?”
Several seconds passed before the girl raised her eyes, looking with some doubt and some more fear the holy man before her. Clad in red. That only made it harder not to assume he was here to put her on the gallows. She debated for a while, inhaling before answering.
“I... am innocent, My Lord.” He voice wavered, but it was as clear as she could given the circumstance. “I have never... wished to do harm. I only intend to aid my neighbours.”
Her gaze wandered to a corner, a table. The Inquisitor also followed her gaze there. There were the proofs of her misdeeds. Two strange books, neither of psalms or prayer. Flasks with powders and liquids of different colours, hand labelled. The script was Latin, but it was not Latin or English. A handful of paper sheets. Hand-carved wooden idols...
“None of that is what my neighbours believe...” The girl attempted to explain.
William stepped closer to her, and unsheathed his sabre.
“That is for me to find out.” He said, gripping the sabre firmly.
Edris’s face turned to confusion. She had been expected torture, but not even her assumed she’d be beheaded right after meeting. The Inquisitor circled around until he was behind her, and with swift movements, he slashed thrice with his sabre.
“WAIT!”
Edris felt pain on her wrists, and her body fell forward. It took her a second to straighten up, and when she did, she realised she could prop herself up with her hands. Her now-free hands.
“No, I will not wait. It is best to start talking now.”
Answered the fully neutral and calm voice of the Inquisitor, who now was once more before her, busy sheathing his blade. Edris took a swift look behind her, and she saw that the rope that had bind her was cut cleanly. Looking at her wrists and ankles, fairly red and sore from the rope, she found herself impressed by the fact that the steel he wielded hadn’t nicked her.
But even that was not as unusual as seeing the Inquisitor sit on the floor, some feet before her.
“... I don’t get it...” The girl begun. The fact that she could move her hands did not mean she stopped being wary. “... Why free my hands?”
“There is not point to it. Either you are innocent, and those ropes are an unnecessary cruelty, or you are a witch, and they pose no obstacle. Either way, they are useless. But the villagers would not get it.”
The Inquisitor replied in an almost bored manner. Edris understood that the fact that her wrists were no longer hurting where the rope had painfully bind her, did not meant she could expect mercy or understanding.
“So... what now, your Holiness?” She asked. It was probably insolent of her to speak this freely, but she had no intention of remaining a frightened, resigned witness to her own trial.
“Now, I ask some questions.” William replied, ordering once more his sheet of paper. He took out a pencil, and begun reading. “What happened to your family?”
“My father is... was Garreth, a logger. He died a year ago on an accident. I did not met my mother. She passed when I was but a baby.” She replied now calm.
“I understand.” The Inquisitor wrote the replies. “Let us continue. The townsfolk has raised a grand total of 48 individual accusations of witchcraft against you. To reiterate, how do you plea?”
Listening the sheer amount, Edris let out something that was both a whine and a chuckle.
“That many?” She asked incredulous. “I have a hard time figuring out how I did all of that by my lone self.”
She kept silent for a moment, wondering how to proceed next. She raised her eyes, and look the Inquisitor in the eyes.
“Is there any point to answering?” She asked. Despite her pessimism, her voice was still lively and a bit forceful even. “It is decided I’m guilty, right? I am a girl accused of witchcraft, and you are an Inquisitor. Why keep this farce up if my words will not matter in the end?”
She asked, letting her fear and frustration be heard through her voice.
At last, the Inquisitor raised his own gaze, his pencil stilling as he met her eyes.
“I am an Inquisitor. That comes from Latin. ‘He who asks for truth’. Obviously, your answer matters.” He replied, his bored tone giving way to a more human, if more rough, voice. “As for culpability. The Church does not expect a farmer to recognise a genuine witch. That is why we do not let them decide who is guilty and who is innocent. Hence the trial.”
Edris inhaled deeply.
“I see.” Edris held his gaze, trying to see the person in those eyes. He was not like other men. She didn’t felt the need to run and hide, or to reply in the most curt way. Why did she felt that way? Still a mystery, it was.
“I would plea innocent of every accusation, your Holiness.” She replied in the end.
The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow.
“EVERY one? I haven’t detailed them yet.” He said.
Edris shut her eyes. That... was probably a mistake. However, it was the truth! She did not believe anything she did had been bad.
“I might have hurried.” She admitted. “May I know what are the accusations and who raised them?”
“Accusations are to remain anonymous at this moment. However, there are some things I need to confirm from your words on each fact. Hence this interrogation.” William clarified.
The stack of sheets on his hands seemed impossibly thick. Edris was not quite sure how to even begin defend herself. She was still waiting for her father to appear from somewhere and speak on her behalf.
But that wouldn’t happen. Edris, thus, straightened her back and lifted herself from the floor. Upon seeing that, the Inquisitor stood up as well.
... Gods, he was tall.
“Let us begin.” He begun, going over his sheets. “Most of the accusations refer to the fact that you prepare various drinks, powders, and other draughts. There are those who hold that they feel cursed, sick, or hexed after taking them.”
Edris breathed in. Yes, she imagined this would be the main topic. Gathering all her patience, she began.
“Tis not true, your Holiness. I merely want to help.” She began. “But sometimes, the people I give my remedies to don’t listen to me. Let us take Martha’s eldest son. The last time I gave him something for his hangover, I clearly told him the syrup was to be placed in a pot of water to boil, then let sit half an hour, and take a sip ever hour through the day. The all-knowing mister, however, wanted to feel good right then, and took the entire concentrate cold, undiluted. He then somehow complained about having an upset stomach and headaches.”
As she spoke, she could see the Inquisitor jotting down her every word. His face was neither sharing her exasperation, nor disbelieving her explanation, which was unexpected.
“What of the times they feel bad despite following instructions to the letter? Another neighbour mentioned vomiting after taking your product and following your direction. A bitter, black vomit.” He asking, observing her carefully.
Despite him not saying the name, Edris only knew of two people that could make such a declaration.
“That is more complicated. I was fixing a mistake made by the apothecary, mister Jeremy” She began.
“A mistake? The town’s healer?” There, she did noticed a change in tone. He seemed to not believe her. That was... upsetting.
“It wasn’t the first time, and it will not be the last.” She replied, raising her voice slightly. “My father went through the same. He had suffered from a simple cold, but when he took what the apothecary gave him, he was taken in by a mighty fever and dysentery. He was so badly ill that neither of us slept that night. I was sure I’d lose him then!”
After that, she breathed in deeply. The Inquisitor, ever patient, waited for her to recover her composture, to jot down the anecdote.
“That morning, as I was going to give him Jeremy’s draugh myself, I noticed the plant was spoilt. Rotten. So I gave my father something to expel that, and so he vomited the black substance. And when Mr Thomas and Millia had a cold not long ago, I gave them the same remedy, as I noticed their medicine was equally spoilt.”
The Inquisitor nodded as he wrote. Maybe this man did understood, unlike the rest of the villager.
“How come you noticed it was spoilt?” He asked.
It was such an unusual question, it made her tilt her head.
“It... was spoilt. That could be seen at a glance.”
“You say the doctor gave him a draught. I presume that means the plant had already been boiled or ground. How could you notice it was rotten without looking at it?”
“Because...” Edris needed a moment before answering aloud. “Of the smell. The smell was... of dead herbs.” She answered, hoping the explanation was clear enough.
“There is another explanation that the villagers offer.” William begun, as he searched through his sheets of paper. The accused remained tranquil as he found statements. “Let us see. Here, people claim that you have been witnessed talking to plants and mushrooms. And acting as if they reply. Can you explain that?”
The girl remained thoughtful for a moment, straightened herself, and replied.
“Yes, I do speak with my plants. I wouldn’t think it much different than the way a farmer talks to his goats. Or how children talk to cats.” She said. “I feel like talking to someone, at times. Someone who won’t laugh. But it would be abnormal of me to expect a reply from them.”
As the Inquisitor jotted down her reply, she added, almost absentmindedly:
“Besides, I feel it helps. My plants feel happier and I believe that due to that the extractions I get from them are so abundant.”
Nodding, now that the topic of her draughts was more directly brought up, William walked towards the smaller of the to tables. That was were the villagers had placed their evidence of her witchcrat. Her concoctions and potions.
“Yes, in respect to those extracts...” The Inquisitor begun, raising one of the flasks. As with everything else, the letters on the label made no sense. Just a string of consonants without rhyme or reason. “What is this?” He asked her.
“That is precisely for colds. Mine IS prepared with fresh herbs, I might add.” She replied, not without some pride in her voice. The Inquisitor copied the nonsense string of characters and the effect she said. Afterwards, he took another one.
“And this one?” He asked. She replied without hesitation.
“That is for nausea and dizziness.” It was the simplest way to explain it was meant for the ills that came after alcohol.
Once again, William noted it down. Then, he grabbed a more interesting flask, with a fine purple powder.
“And this one, what does it do?” He asked. Edris’s face turned more serious with that one.
“The old widow, Helga, and poor Matt cannot fall asleep most nights. Not without that. ‘Tis the only remedy that helps them.” She explain.
William turned the flask on his hand, once again copying the label.
“There are an awful lot of stoppers on this flask. So dangerous are it’s contents?”
Edris took a breath. She did not know a lot about witches, but she did know that they were famed for making mortal poisons. She carefully thought her words before speaking.
“Even the best wine is dangerous, your Holiness, if you take a sip more than you ought to.” She replied softly. The Inquisitor’s face threatened to break into a smile, if only for a moment.
With a more practised ease than Edris anticipated, he managed to open the cryptic stoppers and uncorked the flask.
“Let’s suppose I take a bit. What would happen then, accused Edris?” He asked her, watching the content inside carefully.
“If you are healthy and do not suffer your nights, your Holiness, even one drop is one too many.” She warned calmly.
The Inquisitor seemed satisfied with that reply, and corked it once more.
They continued to talk a bit about the medicines. One flask made her a squirm a bit. William could guess what it did, and left it aside for later.
Once the topic was fully addressed, William went over everything he wrote. Twenty-one flasks, and she managed to tell him every time for what ailment they were used for and how good or spoilt they were.


With every question that she answered with honesty and swiftness, the accused’s posture became a bit more confident, and as such, also a bit more relaxed.
“How come you’ve learnt so much in so little time?” He asked.
Edris for a moment took it as a praise. Except she realised it was a question, indeed. It was not unusual to assume knowledge like that was obtained from a hellish pact.
But not the Inquisitor. He could see the reason behind her words. At least, so she hoped.
“I have always been a curious girl.” She began. “We live in the outskirts of the village, surrounded by plants. Dad.... My father... he often told me what could be eaten and what could not. Since I was little, I wanted to know more about such plants. And some years ago, a wandering merchant took a rest in the village. My father managed to buy from him a couple of badly battered books.”
After her words, the Inquisitor watched her closely.
“Where are those books now?” He asked.
“They WERE badly battered. And in very old paper. So I begun to open them only one page at a time, jotting every word down before the sheet of paper eventually tore itself, and-”
“So... you know how to read.” The Inquisitor interrupted her, intrigued.
Edris bit her tongue. Oh, damn. This... was bad. She was meant to say that she had asked for the help of one of the four men that could read and write in the whole village. However, she had already admitted to saying it was her. She could only nod in the same way a child nods when the remains of a fine vase lie at his feet.
“My Father taught me so.” She added. After a long moment of silence, she raised her gaze. “Is it a sin, for a girl like me to read?”
William thought it over as he wrote down the statement. He finally answered, in a flat and emotionless tone.
“No. But it is strange. And that, am afraid, is almost as bad.”
Edris inhaled to reply back. But after better taking in his words and tone, she opted to let the comment slide.
“Anyways. The... information I learnt. I gathered it there.” Deciding instead to say what she meant to say before being interrupted, Edris pointed to the small book, made from sheets of different types of paper, and hand-bound.
The Inquisitor took the book from the evidence table. Unlike everything he’d seen so far, the letters here were perfectly legible.
“Why do you label your flasks in nonsense, if you can indeed write?” William asked in an almost disinterested way.
“So that nobody that passes by my house or the table at the stream grabs them because they think it will help them with their illness.” Edris explained. “For example, not all headaches are the same. Some remedies can worsen it if it was meant for a different kind of disease.” She said.
William took a moment to read from her notebook before jotting down that answer in the record.
“Mmm. The information in general is not inaccurate. Materia Medica?” The Inquisitor asked as he read. Edris nodded.
“Also, ‘On plants’... ‘Origin of the sickness’... and others.” She replied. They might be incomplete, interrupted, and shortened notes. But they weren’t wrong.
However, as William passed the page, he found that wasn’t all that was written on the pages. He found drawings and watercolours. Of the moon across different phases. Of plant leaves and flowers.
“Did you made these, too?” He asked, in part out of personal curiosity.
“Yes. My father taught me how to do it.” Edris explained.
“He has taught you a lot. Was he not a logger?” He asked.
“He was. Precisely due to that he went for long days in the forest. I have no mother, and the other neighbouring ladies have their own children to worry about. My father so, grabbed some pieces of scrap wood, drew atop them, and then whittled them into shape.” She said, and pointed at the figures on the table.
She took one of them, a horse, on her hands. The nostalgic smile on the girl’s face as she touched the carving cleared any doubts about them being supposed pagan god idols.
“These toys kept me company when he could not. They were how he remained with me no matter the distance. And eventually, I wanted him to show me how he made his charcoals, and how to draw with them. He did. He also tried to teach me how to whittle with a knife but... I am not successful in every task I attempt, I’m afraid.”
The admission came with a faint smile.


After that, Edris reminded herself she wasn’t chatting with any stranger, but with the Inquisition. So she straightened again, and wiped her smile from her face.
“Anyways. Once I learnt how to do it, and having no shortage of paper, I begun to make drawings. A lot of them. The ones bound into the book are the ones I consider good. I get rid of the ones that I don’t like.” Edris explained. William nodded.
“Roses. Vipers. Slugs and snails. Chamomile. Butterflies.” Every time he encountered a drawing, he described them.
After a few pages, he noticed the girl began to get orderly with her drawings. When describing the notes on a plant, she drew the appearance of the plant, and the different parts involved. For all intents and purposes, she was making her very own encyclopaedia.
Edris remained still, watching as the fruit of years of work were examined by the stone-faced Inquisitor. Being in the hands of anyone else, she’d be deathly anxious about her book being torn up, or tossed to the embers of the fireplace by the corner. But she knew that he would not damage the book. Even if she was going to hang in the end, it was evidence.
“... So you also draw yourself.” He noted, keeping his usual even tone. Edris nodded
“Yes, I have watched myself several times. I like to make self portraits. “She answered. “I place a mirror on the corner, and draw what I see.”
“I can see that.” The Inquisitor added, and stared straight into her eyes. “Are the drawings always true to life in every way?” He asked.
Edris met his gaze. No... he wasn’t looking at both of her eyes. He was starting specifically at... her right eye.
“...” Edris raised a hand to the neatly tied bangs that obscured her entire right half of the face.
“I already saw that.” William, however, made it clear he had now noticed the tattoo under her right eye. Edris felt defeated.
“... Is that a sin?” She asked once more. Unlike the last time she asked the question, she now genuinely needed to hear the answer.
“It could be.” The Inquisitor replied. Edris’s shoulders sagged. “More importantly, it gives certain accusations weight. It is said you have the Devil’s mark upon your flesh.”
Yes, that was something she was afraid of. The Inquisitor turned the page, and as he did, Edris remembered something.
If he had already found the self portraits where she had drawn the tattoos on her body... then this page was...
“... You holiness... may I explain myself?” She asked, as she moved to the Inquisitor’s side to look at what was on the book.
Yes, exactly as she remembered.
This was the third or fourth naked self portrait on the book. It showed her laying on her bed, watching her naked body on the mirror, with the remainder of the tattoos exposed there. Drawings permanently inked on her skin, as well as the details of her own intimate bits. The two worst things she could have recorded about herself, laid bare for his examination.
Her face struggled to go wax-white from fear, and beet-red from shame. Fear won, however, and she turned to the Inquisitor as he took in the drawing.
“I wasn’t born with them. My father helped me with them. I was merely... ‘tis but a game. Like when people paint a lovely vase with a beautiful landscape. But there are no vases on my home. The only whiteness is my own skin... and my Father, he said this was no evil deed. He actually helped me... ink my back.” She explain so fast she almost tripped on her words.
“I will have to examine them in the flesh.” He said after a moment’s consideration. There was no anticipation or joy in his voice. It was a part of his duty.
“Right here?” She asked. William shook his head.
“I will need someone else to bear witness. Women, so your dignity is not cast into doubts. This is something to be mentioned at the trial.” He added. Now Edris was somewhat nervous.
She had no idea how to convince the Inquisitor this was not dangerous. And she had less idea of how to convince the rest of the village.
“You are skilled.” As if wanting to ease her, William praised her drawing skills.
Edris observed the drawing he praised. Another naked portrait. Despite it being praise aimed at her skill with her charcoal, she could not help but think it as a compliment to how she looked under her garments. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if wanting to cover her chest.
To all of this, however, the Inquisitor did not react.
“Why, thank you, holiness.” Edris felt necessary to remark his duties, however, wanting to stop feeling so exposed.
The Inquisitor closed the book, and jotted down the different things he had found.
“And you are attractive.” He blurted out mid writing.
“Your Holiness?!?” Edris practically jumped at the words.
“And young. Healthy. And single.” He continued. “Which is yet another oddity. Are you not two years past coming of age? Why do you flee from the altar, from the gentlemen in the village that have propositioned you?”
Ah. Now she understood.
Yes, there had been about a handful of men that had insinuated it was about time she got married and bore children as god intended. With them, preferably. The apothecary was one such man, for example.
She felt some relief, insulting as it was, when she understood why he called her attractive.
Edris debated with herself, strongly, of how honestly to answer that question. But, the Inquisitor had already seen her bare body, so she opted on this.
“Have you seen the village gentlemen, you Holiness?” She directly asked. Besides boys even younger than her, the last single men on the village were, at their youngest, 40 years old.
The inquisitor replied not. He look at her. His fingers stopped jotting down their conversation.
Edris averted her gaze. And for the third time tonight...
“Is it a sin to have said that?” She asked.
“It depends on who you ask.” Was his useless reply.
Edris dared to pout in disagreement, and look at him, her knuckles on her hips.
“Do YOU think it is a sin?” She clarified, risking some Inquisition torture. However, all William did was shrug.
“I HAVE seen the village gentlemen.” Was his reply.
Edris allowed herself to grin at his words. William noted once more, before adding.
“That said... out there in the skirts of the forest there might be one or two that are still acceptable suitors.” He observed. Edris sighed.
“I know who you mean. You have not listened to them speak. Besides, both of them have already wives that would very much prefer it if I wasn’t around to tempt them.” She said.
“And is that not true? Do you not tempt them?” William asked. As he did, he took the extra flask he had set aside earlier. “What would this be?”
“That... is for a man to not feel... ‘lively’ for some hours.” She admitted. Seeing the question coming, she explained. “At the parties, there are some men tan come with uncomfortable propositions. I pour that on their beer so I can be at ease.” She said.
The Inquisitor pondered on that.
“There are those who would consider that to be poisoning.” He warned.
Edris remained speechless for a moment. However, seeing the shimmering silver cross hanging around his neck, she came up with something.
“It was that... or risk not to arrive with my maidenhead upon the all-important altar, your Holiness.” She ventured. “It lasts only a few hours. I’m watching out for my chastity, you see.”
William thought for a moment how to refute that. Once he realised there was some reason to her argument, he nodded and wrote her reply down.


There were some accusations pending. But those, he thought, were best addressed at the trial itself. It was pointless to ask them now.
“Very well. This is all for the moment.” He said, storing his pend and extensive notes. “In other topics. Have you been fed these days?”
Edris needed a moment to realise it was the end of her questionnaire.
“Yes. At nightfall, at eight, usually. A boy comes to hand me over bread and water.”
He also usually pulled on her hair. But now she wasn’t tied down... was she?
“Do... do I need a new rope to be bound?” She asked. “I know you say it is not needed, but the villagers think it is.”
“I will let them know they are wrong.” The Inquisitor replied, and examined her once more. This time, he did it so intensely Edris felt, for a moment, a cold sweat. “After all, you are not leaving this place, are you?”
The words were so certain and asphyxiating, Edris felt she needed strength to breathe in. She gulped, and replied.
“I do not intend to move elsewhere, Inquisitor.” She replied.
Now she dared not to ask being allowed to sleep in her own home. The answer was self-evident already.
“Good. This is all for the moment.” William told her, and made half a turn, going up the stairs. Before he left, Edris reached out to him.
“Ah, your Holiness. If I may be allowed but a question...” She begun. William was still there, halfway to the spiral staircase. She took his stillness as a yes. “Did... Did I prove I’m innocent.”
It might be a foolish question, but she wanted to know if this lengthy and somewhat invasive question had helped.
“That is something in which the Inquisition you expect is different from reality, accused Edris.” He replied, and he did so with a voice that was... almost warm. “You do not have to prove you are not a witch. They are the ones that need to prove you are one.”
“... I understand.” Was the only thing she managed to say, before watching the red hat and coat go upstairs.
She was alone again in the church’s basement.
Now however, without ropes to bind her, she could do something that before she couldn’t.
“... ‘Tis a lovely night.”


She murmured to no one in particular as she moved to peek at the crescent moon through the small window.
Upon leaving the chapel, there were some curious people still waiting for William. Many expectant stares fell upon him.
“And well? Is she a witch?” Asked Martha. The village elder, Thomas, agreed, curious.
William stored his notes as he answered.
“That is yet to be proven. I have obtained some information, but I need more.” He said. He watched the village square carefully, looking for one face that seemed worried or at least indifferent to the accused girl.
A man evidently strong, moving two crates outside the butcher’s, was one. An elderly man with a cane and a steely gaze was the second.
“Both of you. Come here.” He demanded.
Not wanting to decline the command of a holy man, both did so. William placed a line of salt meanwhile, on the doorway to the chapel.
“Yes, Holiness?” Asked the elderly man.
“Swear upon you immortal souls that you will keep watch over this door. The accused girl will not be allowed to leave. And, most important, you will not let anyone I don’t authorise in.” He told them. The men looked at each other.
“F-For how long, your Holiness?” Asked the burly worker. “Because, my brother, he will be needing my help later.
William looked at him. It was not even necessary for either of his hands to reach a weapon, simply to meet his stare was enough for the worker to take a step back, hunching for a moment.
“Yes, your Holiness. As you say.” Both men replied. “We swear.”
With that problem solved, William turned to Old Thomas.
“Elder, I need to see where the accused lives.” He asked.
“She lives on a small cabin on the outskirts of the town. Over there.” The elder signalled. William raised an eyebrow in response.
“Where?” He requested once more.
Old Thomas understood his slip up, and began to walk more emphatically.
“It will be best if I take you myself, your Holiness.” He said.
Williams shot one final glance at the men he appointed as guards. Both stood next to the chapel doors, and afterwards, the Inquisitor set out with the elder.


The streets of stone and earth thinned after several minutes, giving way to soil and growing sprouts.
There were less houses as they left the area, with the landscape sounding more and more wild.
Once the house was within his visual range, he immediately knew it was the accused’s. Overflowing green, and with various sheets of wood full of colour and symbols.
“It’s a start.” He told himself.
It was hardly impossible to show this house to a child from somewhere in the kingdom, and not hear the assumption that this was a witch’s house.
“It’s here, your Holiness.” Said the elder as they approached the door. The door was braced from the outside with a small pole. “It’s been locked like this since five days ago, when we caught her.”
“I imagine.” William replied. People had superstitions about all the sorts of things that happened inside a witch’s house.
William removed the brace on the door, and entered it. It was not a big house. There was a small stove. A small table, clearly made from the wood that the logger set aside for himself. Two small beds. A great more deal of wooden figures: dogs, spiders, cats, foxes, knights and unicorns. Most were strewn around by the floor. Dishes with raw pigments, others with grounded and well dried herbs.
One of the beds, the bigger and more comfortable one, was a wreck.
“She was arrested before dawn.” William pointed out. “When she still slept.”
The elder seemed surprised.
“That... that is indeed the case, your Holiness.”
William was not waiting for a reply. It was plain to see. He swept his gaze, telling apart what things would the old logger make when he was still alive and which ones were made by his daughter.
If the apothecary’s house had some pots set aside for herbs, here it could be said the whole cabin was itself a pot. In every nook or cranny, there were plants. In ever corner, the floor’s wooden boards were pried a bit to plant straight into the ground various shade plants. On the roofing, other plants hanged down to the walls and windows. Mint, gingerbread, arnica, chamomile. It was hard to find even one plant that was there purely because it was pretty.
As he walked the house, William found one plant in particular. It was outside the house, under a windowsill. But it was clear that it had been planted there and taken care off.
“She has a green thumb.” He mentioned, reaching to the violet flowers.
“Eh?” Asked the elder.
“It’s the rainy season. But the garden on this house is blooming more intensely than other houses’.” He pointed out. He grabbed one of the flowers to look at it more closely. Indeed, it was Digitalis.
“Ah, yes. I suppose so.” The elder replied, looking the interior of the house.
He was clearly uncomfortable there, staring at a wooden carving. A dragon.
“They are toys, by the way.” William explained. The elder was startled.
“Toys?” The elder asked, almost expecting the wooden monster to snarl.
“The idols you placed on the table. And these ones. They are toys made by a logger to comfort his daughter.” William explained, moving some paintings and dishes. There was a fair amount of intricate stuff drawn on every corner in the house.
“Ah... I didn’t know those were taken to be idols.” The elder added.
William found some more notes. A pair of flasks. He examined them more closely. One of them... it seemed interesting. He set aside the bottle with the pink liquid, and without turning to look at the elder, he threw a question.
“Do you believe her to be a witch?” He asked. The elder had a coughing fit.
“What do you say?” He replied once he calmed a bit.
“If you personally believe the accused girl to be a witch.”
“... I... don’t know.” The old man admitted after a long silence. “I have stopped taking what she gives me. She said it would help me alleviate something caused by our apothecary. I just threw it out.”
“What ailment was it that you suffered?” William asked, reading more of her notes.
“I had a cold. The young man Jeremy gave me his syrup, and Edris saw that and brought me a tea. Said it would help for the syrup, but I did not took it, no.”
“I see.” William listened. He didn’t have his pencil on hand, but he listened with the attention of a wolf. “And what happened as you took the treatment?”
“Well, it got complicated. I got a very strong fever for days and days. My children helped me day and night for two weeks. But, well. The apothecary mentioned it’s the age. I am getting old. At least I could sweat off the sickness.”
Very good. Something here clicked with her statements. William finally turned to meet the old man.
“So, you do believe her a witch.” He said.
“I only know one thing. She has always been a weird girl.” Old Thomas answered, nodding as if he had shared some profound bit of wisdom.
William stepped closer.
“Weird enough to deserve death?” He asked, straight up.
The old man’s eyes went wide as saucers. He broke into a cold sweat and could not keep his stare. He hunched over, and scratched his bald head.
“I... I only being an old ass” He said, voice firm as a reedy in a windy storm. “There’s lots of very smart and good folks in town that thing she being... well, that there’s something wrong with her. And after what happened last year... nobody wants her trickery to cost us this harvest too.” He ended up saying. William nodded.
“I figure...” He said. Finally, putting his hands on his pockets, he left the cabin. “I have seen enough. Let us return to the chapel.”
He told the elder, and both left the house.
Once they both returned, he could see both men he tasked with the labour were still there. William blessed them, and told them to leave.
“From here on, I will take over watch duty.” He told them.
The men were thankful, and they retired.
William took out his notes as there was still some light left over.
“The accused must eat something.” He told the elder.
The elder nodded, looking at the baker and one of the nearby kids.
“Go bring her water and a loaf of bread. And you, Johny, go feed her as usual. None of your nonsense, got it?”
“Why is it always me who is alone with the witch?” Whined the boy. However, it seemed that not even his parents would step in for him. “Fineeeee.”
The boy, somewhat upset, followed the baker. William, meanwhile, resumed his interrogation.
“I will need the statements for some of you.” He told the curious as they approached. “To clarify some of the more vague or inconsistent accusations.”


Through dusk and the first hours of the night, William continued to gather answers.
“Yes, indeed. There’s a wandering merchant that bring unusual trinkets from other towns. He comes by every year, before harvest week. He is very strange. Not very christian like. I do not trust the books and things he peddles.” One of the women answer. That, at least, tracked with the explanation for the herbology books.
After some more time, he called another witness.
“Yes, the girl decorates my pub, the seamstress’s house, and the cheesemaker’s house. She makes paintings with the things she grabs from the forest. Sometimes she makes drawings of flowers, but...” The old beer brewer added in a hushed whisper. “I have also seen her look straight into me as she uses her colours... I get the impression she wants to rip my soul off me with her colours.”
“I understand.” The Inquisitor replied, taking notes.
It was something he was well familiar with. It was one thing for dukes and merchants to see artists drawing they portraits, but for people of more humble origins, it was deeply disturbing to see their likeness committed to paper.
It was time to call upon another witness.
“I have never heard her pray right.” Said Martha. Now that he looked at her more closely, she had multiple rosaries on her wrist, besides the one on her fingers. “She thinks noone is listening, but I am. She doesn’t say the words from no prayer, just babbles about. And she doesn’t sit until she receives the priests’s blessings, nor does she confesses her sins. She just takes off to the hills when the sermon is over.”
The Inquisitor opted to simply write the thatcher’s name next to the apothecary’’s, one of the logger’s, the butcher’s, two of the farmers’ and the seamstress’s brother’s. That was the list of suitors.
There were a few people that had gotten better with the remedies the accused prepared. But even so, two of them kept her accusations against her. It seemed not natural for them that she could bring them back to health.
Then, another witness. A young woman convinced that the accused planned to steal her husband. That fit with what the accused herself had said. However, noting how devout the newly wed wife was, the Inquisitor added after taking her testimony.
“I will require you and miss Martha to come early. Come to the chapel as dawn breaks.” He said.
As he was taking that last witness statement, he heard a commotion caused by the boy who took the accused’s dinner to her. William heard what it was about, and wrote even that down, but then he asked for silence. It was almost time to sleep, after all.
He placed himself next to the chapel’s door, in such a way that from the inside neither he nor his shadow could be seen. He checked that the line of salt on the entryway was intact, to demonstrate the villagers that still peeked about that even unbound, the accused girl wouldn’t just leave the chapel. He also crossed a wire under tension, with a stake hammered to the ground, like a snare trap for rabbits. Rather than the snare to catch the prey animal, however, the string would pull on a silver bell, that would alter him and knock the girl on the head if she tried to sneak out.
Once that was done, he placed a blanket on the floor, leaned his back against the chapel’s wall and just like that, with musket in hand, he allowed himself to sleep a few hours.


Some hours earlier...


Edris was rubbing on her wrists lavender oil. He wrists were red and sore due to the rope, and now that she felt somewhat more free, she figured she could at least grab a flask on the table to soothe her pain.
The bell tolled eight in the night, and after some minutes, she heard a set of footsteps that she slowly got to know more and more.
“... Hmmm.”
Edris decided to hide in the shadows, not far from the staircase. Climbing down into the basement, she could see Johny’s figure, carrying a canteen of water and a loaf of bread.
“... Edris?!” The kid asked, his voice trembling, as he saw he wooden column that she had been bound to the past few days. Clearly, she wasn’t there anymore.
From behind the kid, with silent footsteps, Edris approached. Johny left the food on the table, and look nervously at the severed rope.
“It is true... he released her... But... why...” As the boy said more and more afraid, Edris finally leaped at him.
“Johny! You damned brat, I am going to devour you!” She shouted.
The kid screamed even louder, slipping from her grasp and tumbling towards the spiral staircase.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH”
“What is the matter, huh?! Not pulling my hair now that I’m free?!!” Edris asked, and got to pursue the kid for all of two seconds.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM, DAAAAAAAAAAD!”
And she saw him get up and scurry up the stairs. She could hear above her head the unsteady, fast footsteps of the boy leaving the chapel.
“... come to think of it, why did I do that? Last thing I need is one more accusation against me.” Once the satisfaction of scaring that brat passed, Edris felt a bit stupid for giving in to that.
However, some minutes passed, and then half an hour. It didn’t look like anyone was coming down to punish her for her seeming attempt on the boy’s life.
“... I will no doubt hear of this tomorrow morning. But... that’s a problem for the morning.”
What was done was done. And so, Edris approached the table, picked up the water and bread, and begun to eat her supper.
“If I am to hang tomorrow... I ought to demand a better last supper.”
Slowly, the noises of the village grew quieter and quieter, and the noises of the night animals were clear and clearer. No matter how much she wanted to use her new freedom to admire the moon and check how the buds of the flowers she was taking cared of were... Edris figured that taking a single step out of the chapel was an instant sentence
So the only thing she did now that she could move was what she had suffered the most these past days. She cleared a space on the bigger table to lay down, and it was there were she chose to await until sleep claimed her and took her to the morning...