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Copyright reserved. No part(s) of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, transcribed, stored in a retrieval system, or translated into any language in any form by any means without the written permission of the author. WITCH TRIAL by Marcie Pierson Walking away from his house, the century-old wizard picked up his long, mud-stained overcoat and stepped onto the cobblestones of the silent street. In his hand he carried a copy of Galileo's works. His shoulder-length white hair and chest-length snowy beard streamed behind him. His feet were calloused from being barefoot most of his life, evidence of his dislike for shoes, and they were very sure of the way. The small, white meeting house stood on top of the next hill. Surrounding the building was a patch of soft green grass. On one side of the church was a graveyard, outside of which the man's wife was buried. He had lovingly dug the hole, shedding tears with each shovelful of dirt. A few tears slid down his cheeks today as he read the handcarved headstone: Martha Longstreet 1597-1695 A Very Dear Wife Who Was Hanged as a Witch Ben Longstreet knelt down beside his wife's grave and touched the single red tulip. The flower had been Martha's favorite. The gravesite was in a patch of weeds, but Ben did his best to keep it looking nice. He had come every day for the past two years to weed and to water the flower. He refused to let his age interfere with him spending time with his wife, even if only in spirit. Ben sighed deeply. Today would have been Martha's one hundredth birthday. His mind wandered back to his wedding day seventy-five years ago in 1622. He could still see his bride walking down the aisle toward him, glowing in her white dress. His thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. Ben looked up into the eyes of the town minister, Reverend Samuels. Slowly the old man stood. The minister silently turned and walked toward the church. Ben followed, head down, eyes full of shame. As Rev. Samuels led him into the meeting house, heads turned, eyes stared, and mouths dropped open. Many thoughts ran through the people's minds, but they all had one in common: The wizard Longstreet is in our church. The minister strolled up the aisle, his black robe brushing the floor, the cross around his neck swinging on its chain, and stood behind the huge pulpit. He beckoned for Ben to stand before him. "Is Judge Baker present?" the reverend asked the congregation. As a short, bald man rose and made his way to the pulpit, where he would officiate the proceedings, Ben looked out at the sea of faces, realizing that the people had as much compassion for him as they had had for Martha -- none. Reverend Samuels read Ben's crimes, including the death of his wife, which everyone believed he caused. They also knew he kept numerous cats and birds in his house, believing them to be instruments of Ben's magic. When the minister finished, the judge took over the questioning. "Why do you profess to be a wizard?" he asked. Ben answered truthfully, "I am not a wizard but a scientist." The crowd would not hear it. "Hang him!" some of the people cried. "No, put him in prison!" others shouted. "He deserves a slow death." "In a cage, like his animals," agreed someone else. "My pets," lamented Ben to himself. They helped fill the void in his life since Martha's death. What would become of them? The crowd was now on its feet, yelling more accusations and punishments. Ben could read anger and hatred in their eyes. Most people wanted him to die. "Silence!" ordered the magistrate. The room quieted, and the people sat down. "Arethere any witnesses for or against Mr. Longstreet?" A small child stepped into the aisle. "He taught me to read," she offered helpfully to her mother's horror. Ben smiled at Emmie, silently applauding her for speaking out. He was glad he had been able to teach her. She would be an intelligent lady. "Shush, Emmie," her mother commanded, pulling her daughter onto her lap. "No, no, let her be," Judge Baker said. "This may be useful." He turned to Ben. "Children of Emmie's age should not be reading, Mr. Longstreet, especially girls. They are to stay at home and help their mothers." He faced the congregation once again. "Anyone else?" Several shouts sounded from the back of the meeting house. "He always visits his wife's grave instead of keeping his house clean." No one dared argue from where the man had gotten his information. Since Martha's death, everyone had shunned Ben, fearing that the Longstreets' witchcraft was of the devil and could be contagious. It had killed Martha, and it would kill anyone who entered the house. Besides, no one wanted to speak on Ben's behalf in this trial and be considered an accomplice. Another voice called, "He takes books and papers there and reads them. See, he's got one now. But he never takes a Bible. He probably doesn't even own one." "Yes, I do," protested Ben. "I read it every day." He wished he had brought it with him instead of Galileo, whose wisdom could not help him right now. "And what do you say to reading in the cemetery?" the judge asked. "It's quiet up there, and I feel closer to Martha." Ben lowered his head, a deep sigh escaping his lips. Judge Baker hesitated a moment, sensing Ben's love for his wife, then continued. A few more witnesses testified. One addressed Ben's absence in church each Sabbath. Ben had an answer, but he remained silent. He knew it looked bad, but he did not want to offend the people further but saying he did not feel welcome in the meeting house. Let them draw their own conclusions for his silence. Nothing he said would change their minds, anyway. Finally Judge Baker concluded the trial, and Rev. Samuels dismissed the congregation. The judge escorted Ben to a back room and locked him in. Then he and the minister discussed the case. The magistrate was a kind-hearted man and favored setting Ben free, but the minister would not disappoint his parishioners. A decision was reached. Ben would be put in jail for a week. If he did not admit to the charges of wizardry within seven days, he would hang. The week in jail was the worst of Ben's life. He prayed, sang hymns, and recited Bible verses and poetry. He tried to recall sections of Galileo's book, but nothing helped. Not even memories of Martha could bring him out of his despair. The townspeople were determined to get rid of him, and he could not dissuade them. The believed what they wanted and refused to see the truth. The only good thing Ben could forsee was his reunion with his beloved wife, and the thought of seeing her again kept his mind off his impending doom. On the sixth day Emmie came to visit. No one guarded Ben's cell, so she sneaked up to the converted horse stall. "Mr. Longstreet, I want to thank you for teaching me to read and write," she said. Tears formed in her eyes. "I'm gonna miss you." "And I you, child." Reaching through the bars of his steel cage, Ben stroked Emmie's cheek. "Listen, there are more books in my cottage. You can have them if you would like." Emmie nodded, sniffling. But Ben was not finished. "You are a smart girl, Emmie. Never forget that. You can do whatever you wish and succeed if you put your mind to it." Emmie backed away. "I won't forget. Thank you." She turned and ran out. Ben watched her go. She had become like a granddaughter to him. His heart ached for her, for the only purpose that had kept him alive for many years. Teaching Emmie was Ben's way of keeping his spirit afire. She provided an outlet for his knowledge, and what an eager student she proved to be! Too bad her mother did not understand and would most likely punish Emmie for having books. Emmie was smart; she would figure out some way to hide them. The next day Ben was hustled out of jail. He blinked in the bright sunlight. A man led him to the end of the street, where a crowd waited in a field to see him hanged. Ben's hands were tied behind his back. In the middle of the field a bonfire blazed. Four men were tossing books and furniture into it while the crowd shouted and cheered. The magistrate walked up to Ben. He gestured toward the flames and said, "These are your possessions, Ben. You will not need them anymore." He started to leave, then turned back. "I'm sorry, Ben." Ben nodded once. If only Judge Baker could make the people change their minds! But maybe it was better this way. In a short time, he reminded himself, he would see Martha again. Suddenly Ben remembered Emmie. He quickly scanned the crowd and found her standing on the edge of the mob, holding a small sack. Her eyes twinkled, and she smiled at Ben. She shook the burlap bag slightly. Ben understood and returned the smile. She had gotten his books. A few minutes later, Rev. Samuels approached with Judge Baker and the man who had brought Ben out of jail. They led him to a horse standing under a tree. Above the horse, a rope had been tied to a tree branch. Ben was lifted onto the animal's back, and the magistrate slipped the noose over his head. Rev. Samuels turned to the crowd. He began reciting the Lord's Prayer, and the congregation joined in. Ben's eyes watered as he remembered his wife's hanging. The prayer had been said for her, too. He spoke the words in her memory. When the recitation was over, Judge Baker tied a gag around Ben's mouth. Then, with a shout from the crowd, he slapped the horse, and it jerked away. Ben fell from its back. The rope tightened, snapping his neck. Satisfied that the town was now free of wizard Ben Longstreet and the devil's work, the crowd quickly dispersed. Weeks later, a new handcarved headstone appeared next to that of Martha Longstreet. It read: Benjamin Longstreet 1597-1697 A Wonderful Teacher Who Was Mistaken for a Wizard
Emmie never forgot Ben. She treasured his books, especially the one by Galileo. And she always made sure a red tulip was blooming in front of each headstone. The End
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