11. Expectations
Sheriff De Roy had locked himself in his study and was staring at an open bookcase filled with paperbacks. He was sure something was wrong. De Roy was precise and methodical even when it came to organizing books, but volumes XI and IX were not in their correct places. De Roy pulled the other books out, put them on the table and looked at the hidden safe. It was locked. He put the volumes back in their places and closed the bookcase.
Someone knocked at the door. Sheriff opened it and looked down at his old governess.
“Master Gilbert, the judge and the Council are here.”
“Tell me, Dora. Have you touched those books?” De Roy pointed to the bookcase.
“I only dust them. I never take the books out.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Master Gilbert, I am.” The old woman’s wrinkled face remained calm.
“Tell them I will come in a minute.”
De Roy again glanced at the bookcase, pondered over something, and went to the living room, where Judge Alistair and the Council members were waiting for him. The Council consisted of five people, all of whom lived on the East Bank. The Council’s purpose was making laws and regulations, and appointing the judge, the sheriff, and the mayor. When the witch hunt happened, and the town was divided into East and West sides, two of the members who lived on the West Bank, left the Council due to irreparable disagreements. Peter McCormack’s elder brother Magnus, a wealthy landlord, and Caspar O’Neal, the owner of Hollow's Helicon Hotel, replaced them. The other three members were Louis Baldric, owner of stables, Manfred Van Balen, a winemonger, and Derek Iron, who possessed Hollow's lumber mill.
Judge Alistair told De Roy why they had come.
“That’s ridiculous,” the sheriff said. “I was given an opportunity to at last arrest Fitzroy. As a bonus, I even arrested the blacksmith. Now you want me to let them go?”
“That is a necessary sacrifice,” Judge Alistair said, poking the parquet with his silver cane. “I may not like Pickering, but I have accepted his offer. You know well that the townspeople can demand the sheriff’s resignation from the Council. You have already acted careless enough, whipping the witch in front of so many witnesses.”
“There were mostly Easterners.”
“Mostly,” the judge said in his hoarse voice.
“I will not release them!”
Alistair got up, leaning on his cane, and walked to the window. “It’s too early, Gilbert. We have been waiting patiently. Don’t spoil everything now.”
“He’s right,” Magnus McCormack spoke. “You’re playing with fire. We have been patient for so many years. We have been waiting for them, and now, when everything points to the Hunters’ comeback, you want to risk everything?”
“Fitzroy is at last in my hands. For so long I had been waiting for this chance, and now you want me to let him go? Ridiculous!”
“Letting him go means playing safe,” Caspar O’Neal said. He took off his glasses, wiped them with a cloth, and put them back on his aquiline nose. “Listen to the judge. He knows better.”
“Look out the window, Sheriff,” Louis Baldric told him. “I’m sure you see the same as us. The weather has changed. Animals have become sick. Rain and lightning all the time. They are coming back. Just have a bit of patience.”
“What if this all is just a coincidence? What if the Hunters aren’t coming back, and by releasing Fitzroy and MacGavin, I will lose such an opportunity?”
“They will come back,” the judge said, staring out into the street wet with the recent rain. “I know they are coming back. It’s been thirteen years already that I have been waiting for them. Ever since they disappeared, I knew their job was left unfinished. I ordered the execution of so many witches, but I always knew some fled, and they came back when the Hunters were gone. The witches are cunning.” The judge glanced at those present in the room. All eyes were fixed on him. “If we make a mistake now, all our efforts might be wasted.”
The Council members nodded obediently, but De Roy was still hesitant.
“Listen to him,” Manfred Van Balen said. “Judge Alistair is the wisest among us. Release Fitzroy and MacGavin. Let them think we gave in. Lull their vigilance.”
“You’re asking me an impossible thing. Those witches killed my father. I swore revenge.”
“And they also killed my son,” Louis Baldric muttered. “But I still don’t rush with decisions; I still think and act carefully. Because if I make a mistake, my son’s death will never be avenged.”
“What do you expect me to do?” De Roy asked after thinking for some time.
“Tomorrow morning, you will let them go,” Judge Alistair said.
The sheriff leaned his hands on the table and looked gloomily at the judge. “Do you know that they have come back? Not the Hunters. The witches.”
“More witches?” Caspar O’Neal exclaimed. “Are you sure?”
“I am. They are back to the depths of the West Bank; some have returned to their abandoned houses and stores. I know that, though I haven’t been in that part of the town for so many years.”
“If that’s true, then I think you ought to go there and see what’s happening on the West Bank,” Louis Baldric said.
The sheriff glanced at the fat man, thinking how stupid he was. “Do you expect me to go to the part of the town where so many witches used to live? Do you think I would come back alive?”
“Take your officers with you,” Louis Baldric said, once again proving to De Roy his stupidity.
“How do you expect me to act? Take my officers and search the West Bank? Do you think that the officers can resist all the evil that might inhabit there? If so, then why do we need the Hunters? Why don’t we just go to the West Bank and arrest anyone we suspect?”
“So what is our plan?” Manfred Van Balen asked.
“Our plan is this,” Alistair said. “Sheriff lets the witch’s husband and the blacksmith go. You and your families”—he pointed to the Council members—“keep starting frays and arguments. And we continue collecting money to use for bribing the townsfolk when the Hunters are back. You all are wealthy people; money is not a big deal for you. When the Hunters return, we shall have enough gold ready.”