CHAPTER XL
THE TRIAL OF THE WITCH
At this point came my master back, looking exceedingly disconsolate. Astarveling, furtive-eyed monk accompanied him.
"The Bishop," he said, "is gone forth of his house. He is in attendanceat the trial of a woman for witchcraft, one whom some of the common cityfolk hold to be a saint. But the young Duke and others swear that she isa witch, and hath murdered the Duke Casimir. Haste thee with the horses,sirrah, and attend me to the Hall of Justice. I have sent a messengerforward with my credentials to the Bishop Peter."
So to the corner of the yard I went and rubbed down the horses with awisp of straw which Peter of the Pigs brought me, and which smelled ofhis charges too. Then, with another piece of money in his hand, I senthim out to the nearest corn-chandler's to buy some corn for our beasts,the which I gave them, and stood by them till I saw them eat it too. Forin such a poverty-stricken place, and with a gentleman of the capacity ofMaster Peter of the Pigs, one that is in any way fond of his horsescannot be too careful.
This done, I announced myself to my master as ready to accompany him.
Then, through the streets of Thorn, all strangely empty, we took ourway. Women were leaning out of windows; every head turned castleward upthe street.
They hardly deigned a glance at my master or at myself, but continued togaze. And as each passenger came down the street from the direction ofthe Wolfsberg they cried questions at him, so that he ran the gantlet ofa dropping fire of shrill queries.
"What are they doing to the sweet saint up yonder?"
"Hath she been put to the Question?"
"Who could be executioner in such a case? A man would be sent tohell-fire for daring to lay hand on her."
The popular sympathies ran clearly with the accused, which is not, as ourold Hanne had reason to remember, the rule in trials for witchcraft.
Soon we were passing the gate of the Red Tower. It was barred and closed.The windows of my father's house looked barrenly down, like the eye-holesof skulls. I saw the window from which I used to gaze wistfully down uponthe children, who would not play with me, but spat upon the tower whenthey saw me looking at their play and pipings upon the streets.
There above was the window of my father's garret, with the edge of theblack flag blowing out above it.
The streetward door of the Judgment Hall was open, and a great crowd ofpeople stood about, silent, anxious, respectful. Some of them talked inlow tones, and whenever there was a word passed out of the door, withinwhich men looked ten deep, it scattered all about like a wave which comesinto a sea-cave by a narrow entrance, and then widens out till it breaksgently in the wide inner hall.
"She is not to be tortured; only the Hereditary Executioner may do that.They have threatened the old woman. She has confessed all!"
So ran the words about the crowd, and ever and anon, one would detachhimself from the press, elbowing his way out, and then speed down thelong street, crying the latest tidings of the trial.
It was manifestly impossible for us to obtain entrance by this door. Sowe looked about for another.
Then I minded me of the private passage which led from the innercourt-yard which I knew so well. We skirted the crowd, with our attendantfollowing, till we came to the side door, which led directly into theHall of Judgment behind the judges' high seats.
It was the way by which many a time I had seen my father enter, either inhis dress of black or in that of red. And I was always glad when I sawhim put on the scarlet, because I knew that then the worst was over forsome poor tortured soul.
But when my master proposed that the attendant of the Bishop should carrya letter into the hall to his master to inform him that we waitedwithout, the man trembled in every limb, and the hair of his head shockeditself up in sheer terror.
"I cannot--I dare not," he cried; "it is the place of torture--of theengines--the strappado--the water-drop, the leg-crushers!"
And at this point the vision of what was contained within the fatal doorbecame so appalling to him that he picked up his skirts and fled, lookingover his shoulder all the while to make sure that the Red Axe was notafter him full tilt.
So Dessauer and I were left standing. And if the matter had been lessserious, it would have been comical to see us thus deserted upon mine ownmiddenstead, as it were.
"Bishop Peter of Thorn seems a prelate somewhat difficult ofapproach," said the Chancellor. "I wonder if we shall ever lay anysalt on his tail?"
"Let us risk it and go in," said I. "We are putting all our cards on thetable, at any rate. And at least we can see all that is to be sees. Ifthere is any risk of Von Reuss penetrating our disguises, it is as wellto gulp and get it over at once, rather than suck gingerly at it tillthe fear of death chills our marrow."
"Go on, then," he said, somewhat crossly; "there is indeed naught to begained by standing here as a butt for the eyes of evil-doers."
So I opened the door carefully, and with a trembling heart. The hum of agreat assembly breathed turbidly upon us in a hushed chaos of sound. Thewarm, stifling atmosphere, heavy with a thousand respirations, the soundof a voice speaking loud and clear, the thunder of continuous heels onthe paved floor, the voices of the ushers crying, "Silentium!" atintervals--these all came suddenly upon us as we shut out the air andsunshine and went into the Hall of Judgment.
We could not see the full assembly at first. We stood, as I had supposed,directly behind the judges' rostrum. Only the corners of the vast crowdwhich covered the floor and filled the galleries could be seen--a blur ofwhite faces all bent towards one point. But at the corner, not far fromus, a tall, spare, gray-headed ecclesiastic was speaking.
We stood still, in order that we might not interrupt by entering till hehad finished.
What was our surprise when we heard his words.
"My Lord Duke," he was saying, "it is fortunate for the elucidation ofthis great mystery that I have this moment received word concerning amost learned and notable jurisconsult, a Doctor of the Law, wise incontroversy and specially skilled in such cases, who has even now arrivedin the city of Thorn, on his way to the Emperor at Ratisbon, before whomhe is to dispute for the honor of truth and our holy religion.
"His name is the Learned, Venerable, and Reverend Doctor Schmidt, and Itrust that we of the city and faculty of the Wolfmark shall have thehonor of welcoming him as so distinguished a man deserves."
The pattern of the Bishop's speech is one that does not vary while theworld lasts.
"Lord, they have made me a Doctor of Theology as well!" whispered theChancellor to me. I gave him a little push.
"Now is your time," said I, "the hour and the Doctor!"
I lifted the skirt of his long black robe. He took hold of his marvellousbeard, a triumph of the disguiser's art, and we stepped forward. I couldhardly conceal a smile.
We had come in the very nick of time.
Then after this I have a vague remembrance of my master bowing this wayand that. I seem to see the wise men of the law, the judges, the priests,and lictors rising and bowing in acknowledgment. I heard the hush of athousand people all craning their necks to look round the heads of theirneighbors, and the hum of whispered comment reach farther and fartherback, till it lapped against the walls and ebbed out into the street fromthe great open door of the Hall of Judgment. It was a surprising sight,this great trial--the gloomy hall, black with age and deeds of darkness,lit by the rays of sunlight falling through windows of red glass, thefaces of men flecked as with blood where the evening sunlight streamedluridly upon them.
In the midst there was a clear four-square space. A lictor, with a bundleof rods, stood at each corner. I looked, and there, alone in the centre,attired in white, the cynosure of eyes, I beheld--Helene.