1. Verses le vin…

"This is what I meant," Magdalena says quickly, latching onto thinking that is both supportive of keeping the accused alive for a short time, but also which isn't as inflammatory to the crowd. "Judge her tomorrow!"

When the elf whispers in her ear, the dark-haired witch falters a little, then nods subtly.

Minutes later, she is melting back away from the crowd, removing herself from the scene...

Gilles sidles up to Farfule casually. "That was unnecessarily risky, eh?" he chuckles to the other man as the women manage to extricate themselves from the mob's wrathful eye. "We should talk when this is done, I think. Found out something... interesting, mon ami." He grins a bit, and offers a half-hearted shrug.

Farfule didn't know Magdalena very well and thought her a fool to go against the crowd simply to save a single lost soul, and now with Raddieux by her side, they might both be lost to the mob. But then the man in the black doublet intervened. Farfule narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized the man, for no one was ever entirely selfless. What emboldened him he wondered unless it was to win one or both of the women.

His cheeks flushed as he watched the scene unfold. He suddenly decided to enter the fray. His right hand was clenched in a fist, his other still gripping his rapier as he became overcome with an emotion that he was all too familiar with and one he had been fighting. He was jealous of Raddieux and this unknown man had caused the unwelcome feeling to raise its ugly head. But as luck would have it, he was saved from making a fool of himself as the women backed off and it became clear that the man was a priest of some kind.

As Gilles approached Farfule was glad for the diversion but he still kept his eyes on the women. "It was indeed, Gilles. Such silly creatures, these women risking their pretty little necks like that." When it was clear that the women were out of immediate danger he turned to the man.

"Something interesting, eh? Of course, I will hear of this shortly."

The cool darkness of the church interior was a welcome reprieve from the hot sun outside. As Alderics eyes adjusted to the holy gloom he tried to make out what he thought was the dim figure of the Monsignor further into the nave. It would perhaps have been more prudent to draw closer, for a more intimate conversation which stood less chance of being overheard, but he could hear the crowd grow louder as if moving with increasing speed towards the church. Assuming their imminent arrival, he said softly, but clearly:

Father, the crowd approaches with someone they claim to be a witch. That old hag Leauxtreaux claimed she saw a birthmark or some such rubbish. I am not one to suffer a witch, but surely a more theological judgement should be passed rather than relying on such superstitious drivel as a birthmark. I have heard tell from learned men that a witch cannot say the Our Father all the way through without choking on the words. Perhaps a final test would be in order? If not, or should she fail, perhaps you could persuade the family that a generous graveside donation to a trustworthy individual *cough* might help to prevent her gravesite from being disturbed by those seeking vengeance? You would of course be given a finders fee, all in the name of God of course...

Alderic licked his lips hesitantly as he waited for the crowds arrival. He would not ordinarily be so forward with a man like the Monsignor, but at times a little risk might be worth the reward, especially when the greed of others could be played upon.

The Monsignor was an old man, who enjoyed more than a small glass of wine with his vespers prayers. Perhaps his mass was so great that he could drown the host of Christ himself in the blood of that sacrament. However, at this time, the drink had not sullied his senses. He had listened patiently to the concerns of the young knowledgeable man and muttered in reply.

True enough young man. It is said that evil cannot bear the words of Light and so by this, and others may we test the girl. As for now, you may assist me if you please to do so.

With a beckoning finger, the priest called Alderic to his side as they went out from the hallowed grounds of St. Etienne to speak with the crowd.

Raising hands in a gesture to end the crowds torment of the girl, her teeth chattering, her blue feet frozen in cold, and to hear his general proclamation. Good my flock. I know why you have come, you come with a case against this woman. You will his words, stern and commanding, pass her along to me. Here I shall keep her and question her further. You have done as you see right by our teachings and with the help of the Lord and His saints, I must now be allowed to do my work.

With a gesture aside to Alderic. Take this girl to our lower crypt and bind her. I will join you soon, after I have prayed.

Now good people, to your work and to your farms!

After slipping away from the brutish crowd, it does not take Magdalena long to find Raddieux -- and the two men who now accompany her.

Raddieux leads Farfule away from prying ears, along with Gilles. She watches Magdalena, willing the woman to join them. Sitting in the wall around the commons well, quiet for the moment as others join the harranging, it's an obvious, unsuspicious place for people to meet.

"I've bought us some time to decide. I've no wish to aid a witches mischief, but I've no trust she is malevolent either, just because these oafs saw a duck squawk at her."

Gilles looks around, making full well no one else is nearby. "I snuck into her home, truly hoping to find something to set her free. Instead..."

Giving another look to make sure the mob wasn't anywhere near them, he retrieves the book from under his tunic. He quickly shows them the profane imagery drawn within.

"Times, they are tough, non? I am hesitant to criticize anyone for doing what they thought they must in order to survive, but this..." he returns the book to its hiding place and rubs the back of his neck, "this, you understand, I am very conflicted about. I even considered someone may have put it there to condemn her, but that seems... well, it seems like a lot of work that isn't needed. She likely won't see the midday sun tomorrow."

Alone in the crypt of St Etienne, within the dust ridden and filthy air of this sleeping realm of the dead, Marianne made her appeal to her captor. She thought perhaps he had a kind face and would not appear so zealous as the others.

Please help me monsieur. she gasped in a terrified whisper. Her eyes darted back and forth across the resting dead and she knew she had no desire to belong to them. I am no witch. Please. I did nothing. Tears began to well in her eyes as she pleaded. They want to hurt me. They want to kill me. It is only a mark, see. with this she lifted her leg to Alderic and framed it between her desperate fingers.

I don’t want to die. she sobbed hard.

"Yes, clever woman you have bought us time but for what exactly? Farfule tilts his head toward raddieux. "Will you see this through? Your desire to save a woman you do not know is unusually selfless eh? With the new information that Gilles has uncovered, perhaps the woman is an unsavory character after all. You too Magdalena? Should we rescue this nobody?"


Farfule looks down into the well, his mind churning.

"What exactly was in this book, Gilles? Spells? Drawings? Recipes perhaps? Is that what you meant when you said you had found something interesting earlier? Perhaps your theory that it was planted is correct. Maybe a jealous lover was getting his revenge and the woman is innocent after all. But surely we can all take a look at it?"

"Mon ami, I showed the drawings but I am... hesitant... to go page by page out in the open like this," Gilles says, patting his abdomen. "But yes, it was what I was referencing. I just don't want to start a second witch hunt today, eh?"

It was curious to Alderic why the Monsignor had insisted that Marianne be brought to the crypt below the church. Surely the test would have been better given in front of witnesses, thereby proving the accusation or refuting it and removing all doubt. This reservation followed him down into the squalid stone room, leaving a taste as bad as the mouldering dust in his mouth.

Mademoiselle, frankly I do not care if you are a witch or not. I’m not sure I even believe in such things, for after all if you were, surely you would have used your magic to escape.
I only sought to have the Monsignor give you a test which would, perhaps, give you a fairer chance in front of the crowd. But now I fear that since this business is to be conducted in secret you will not be welcome in this village regardless of the outcome. So I offer you one last chance at escape, if you will stay quiet and trust me.

With that, Alderic moved to bind Marianne’s hands loosely, enough to give the appearance of being held fast, yet in a way which would be easily pulled away from. He then made sure the langmesser was loosened in its sheath and awaited the Monsignor’s arrival. Whatever was going to happen down here, if it turned sour he would be ready to knock the foul priest over the head.

Oh monsieur. Marianne wept and kissed Alderic’s hands and feet, her soaked hair laying heavy upon her. You will help me? I am in your debt for my life. She cried, choking on tears of happiness. I have no money but whatever you wish shall be yours. You only need ask. obediently she allowed herself to be bound. This is no cruel joke? Please monsieur, with all my heart. Tell me your name so I may know my valiant savior?

I suppose it’s never a bad thing to have a ‘witch’ owe you a favor he laughed wryly. My name is Eríc, mademoiselle, and you owe me nothing.

True names held power, or so the old fairy tales said. While Alderic doubted she was truly a witch and could therefore not use his name in sinister rituals to bind him, there was also no reason to tell her his real name. What she did not know, she could not tell others later.

Magdalena’s eyes lit when she glimpsed the book.

"Let me see that!" the lean, dark-haired woman said quietly, her voice hushed but full of urgency. "Where did you find it, exactly?" she pressed, but when Gilles resisted handing it over, she nodded. "Let us find a private place, then, to look more carefully at this evidence..."

This is getting out of hand.

"First, let's decide. If this book proves her to be what she's accused of, do we still let her burn? I have known that girl, most of the people here, all my life. I can't say that I care much if she's interested in a little late night dabbling. But if she's channeling dark powers and harming folks around us, then that's something else. What say you all?"

Gilles nods, and becons for the others to follow as he starts to move away from the well. Making his way to a barn on the outskirts of town, Gilles crawls up into the hay loft where he's been squatting.

Once the group is settled in, he takes the book out for a proper review.

"I guess now, we find out just what she was really up to."

In the church after some seemingly long time, the Monsignor stepped carefully down the dusty steps of the crypt. Even by the low light of this room, his cheeks looked flushed as took the last three steps very cautiously. Thumbing through his bible and stepping toward Alderic and Marianne, he chuckled. Well now, haven’t we been naughty? Alderic could smell the powerful stench of sour wine on the Monsignor’s breath as he lurched forward to grab Marianne by the chin, safe in the knowledge she was tied up. Turning to Alderic, he said You have done well in this my son. The church never forgets her children. I would give this heretic her last confession so if you wouldn’t mind… The priest gestured toward the stairs of the crypt. In an outstretched hand he presented to Alderic three silver livres. You have done well, and worry not. After all, our Lord only gained thirty.

[…]

At the barn the group huddled around the leather bound time. Once opened they saw images of foul heresy, demons, and images of such profanation that the pages themselves oozed with scandal and darkness. It was clear, this was a foul book of dark magic indeed. One dog eared page showed Marianne’s intent: she was trying to poison and disease en masse. Whilst some was in Latin, and other sections in Greek, the ancient tongues of dark magic eluded most. Not only was she a witch but it would appear one versed in the darkest of magics.

Gilles sits back and sighs."I almost feel like we should go to the church and try to finish her, before she has a chance to regroup. If she truly has any magic at all... the Monsignor may be in peril."

"Oh! This is indeed foul!" Farfule leans his head this way and that as he looks over Gilles shoulder while the man thumbs through the pages. Farfule's eyes grow wider by the minute as each new page reveals a horror worse than the last. Farfule is no innocent but compared to some of these depictions he is an absolute saint.

"The devil is at play here and in league with the woman that some of you thought to save! Have you learned a lesson now? You agree she is not be saved then?"