"That is contract law," said Quill. "It has no bearing."

  "On the contrary," said Cooper. "The anti-torture law is a contract between the government and the people, guaranteeing the innocent that they will not be forced by torture into giving false testimony against themselves or others. It is the common practice of witchers to use methods of torture invented after the writing of the law and therefore not enumerated in it, but having all the same pernicious effects as the prohibited practice. In other words, the common practice of running a witness in a witch trial is designed to have precisely the same effect as the tortures specifically prohibited: to extract testimony of witchcraft regardless of whether such testimony is supported by other evidence."

  Quill ranted for quite a while after that, and John let him have his say, while the court reporter scribbled furiously. Nothing that Quill was saying would make the slightest difference. John knew that in terms of truth and righteousness, Cooper's position was true and righteous. John also knew that the legal issue was nowhere near as clear. To drag precedents from contract law into witchery law, which was a branch of ecclesiastical law, would expose John to charges that he had wilfully sown confusion, for where would such a practice stop? All the legal traditions would be hopelessly commingled, and then who could possibly learn enough law to practice in any court? It would be an outrageously radical step. Not that John worried about being criticized or censured. He was old, and if people chose not to follow his precedent, so be it. No, the real question was whether it was right to risk damaging the entire system of law in order to effect a righteous outcome in witchery cases.

  When Quill wound down, John hadn't yet made up his mind. "The court will take this motion under advisement and announce a decision at a later point, if it isn't mooted by one of the other motions."

  Cooper was clearly disappointed; Quill was not much relieved. "Your Honor, even to consider this motion is--"

  John gaveled him to silence. "Next motion, Mr. Cooper."

  Cooper arose and began a string of citations of obscure cases in English courts. John, having the advantage of the written motion in front of him, enjoyed watching Quill come to realize what Cooper was setting up. "Your Honor," Quill finally said, interrupting Cooper. "Is counsel for the defense seriously suggesting that the interrogator be barred from giving testimony?"

  "Let's hear him out and see," said John.

  "Therefore, Your Honor," said Cooper, "the interrogators in witch trials, being without exception professionals whose employment depends, not on finding truth, but on obtaining guilty verdicts, are interested parties in the action. There is no record of a witcher in the last hundred years ever finding, upon interrogation, that a person charged with witchcraft was not guilty. Furthermore, there is a consistent pattern of witchers expanding upon testimony; there are only two cases in which charges of Satanic involvement were present in the original testimony, and both those cases were found to be deliberate falsifications. The pattern is clear: All legitimate witch trials begin with no evidence of anything beyond the use of a knack. Testimony concerning Satan only shows up when the interrogator arrives, and then comes into court in only two ways: through the interrogator's own testimony contradicting a witness or defendant who denies that Satan was involved, or through testimony from witnesses who confess to Satanic involvement as part of a confession that is taken as repentance, following which charges are dismissed. In short, your Honor, the historical record is clear. Evidence of Satanic involvement in all witch trials in New England is produced by the witchers themselves and those who, in fear of death, bend to their will and produce the only kind of confession that the witchers will accept."

  "He's asking this court to deny the very basis of witchcraft law!" cried Quill. "He's asking this court to contradict the clear intent of Parliament and the Massachusetts assembly!"

  John almost laughed aloud. Cooper was audacious in the extreme. He wasn't just trying to get this case thrown out without a trial, he was demanding that John rule in such a way as to make it almost impossible to hold a witch trial ever again. If, that is, John's decision was accepted as a valid precedent.

  It came down to this thought: He's giving me a chance to do something brilliant in the last years of my life.

  "Your charge is of serious malfeasance on the part of Mr. Quill," said John. "If I were to sustain this motion, I would have no choice but to revoke Mr. Quill's license and institute charges of perjury against him, just to start with."

  "I have acted according to the best traditions of my profession!" cried Quill. "This is an outrage!"

  "Nevertheless," said John, "these charges are of so grave a nature as to call into question the entire proceeding against Mr. Smith and Mistress Purity. For I have a feeling that if I were to grant either of these two motions, your next motion would be for a strict reading of the witchcraft laws."

  "It would, Your Honor," said Cooper.

  "Strict reading is what I'm asking for!" cried Quill.

  "You're asking for a strict reading of the anti-torture law," said John. "The courts have long been aware that a strict reading of the witchcraft law requires that for a conviction there must be evidence not only of the use of hidden powers, but also that such powers originate from the influence and power of Satan."

  "That is not a requirement, it is a stipulation!" Quill shouted.

  "Do not shout at me, Mr. Quill," said John. "Justice may be blind, but she is not deaf."

  "I beg your pardon."

  "No matter how it exercises your temper, Mr. Quill, it is long established that a strict reading of the traditional text of the witchcraft laws leads to the conclusion that the involvement of Satan is not stipulated but rather must be proved. That the possession of an extraordinary ability is not prima facie evidence of Satanic involvement, and that this specifically arises from the tradition of ecclesiastical law, which must always leave room for the possibility of a miracle enacted by faith in Jesus Christ and the intervention of heaven."

  "Is it the defense's theory that these two witches have been working miracles by the power of Christ?" Quill said it as if it were the most absurd thing ever heard. But then the words hung in the air, unanswered, undisputed, and the effect was the opposite of what Quill intended. John knew that one of the main points taken from the courtroom today would be the possibility that people with the power of God in them might be charged with witchcraft if witchers had their way.

  Good work, Mr. Cooper.

  "It is the decision of this court that the motions raised by the defense must be decided before the trial can proceed. Therefore, I order the bailiff to send the jury home and to clear the courtroom, lest the discussion of evidence that is about to take place influence the eventual trial. We reconvene at noon. I recommend that everyone take an early dinner, because I intend to resolve these matters before we adjourn this evening."

  Bang with the gavel, and John got up from the bench and almost danced back to the robing room. Who would have thought that a nasty little witch trial would suddenly take on such proportions? John had dismissed charges based on faultiness of evidence in both the witch trials he had presided over before, but in those cases it was because of contradiction within a witness's testimony, and it created no precedent. Cooper had created a far more potent situation, in which granting either of his evidentiary motions could destroy the witch laws, making them unenforceable. And given the political climate in New England, there was little chance of a legislature reinstating them, not without strict safeguards that would remove all the little tricks from the witchers' arsenal. What they did in England, of course, might be quite different. But if John knew his son Quincy, the Massachusetts assembly would act immediately and before Parliament even discussed the issue, the law in New England would be established. Parliament would then be in the awkward position of having to repudiate an ecclesiastical law set forth in New England, the place where Christian life was regarded as being most pure. There was a good chance that it could all be ended, right here, today.

  John sat in the plush chair, almost lost in the cushions, for it had been designed for larger men than he. He closed his eyes and smiled. God had a role for him to play, after all.

  ***

  Purity had no idea what Verily Cooper's plan was. All she knew was that Quill hated it, and if Quill hated it, she had to like it. Besides, she could see plainly that Verily Cooper had no ill intent toward her, nor Alvin, though he was in chains because of her. Still, it wasn't easy for her to sit beside these men that she had accused. If she had known when she made her charges where they would lead... She tried to explain this to them.

  "We know that," said Verily Cooper. "Don't think twice about it."

  "Where's the food?" said Alvin. "We only got a little while to eat."

  "I don't know why you're helping me," said Purity.

  "He's not," said Alvin. "He's trying to change the world."

  "Alvin has trouble with authority," said Verily. "He doesn't like it when somebody else is in charge."

  "I want somebody to be in charge of getting me something to eat. This table is starting to look mighty tasty."

  At that point the bailiff approached and asked them if they wanted to eat down in the jail, separately, or right there at the defense table, with a picnic lunch donated by several of the ladies of Cambridge, including his own wife.

  "What extraordinary kindness," said Verily.

  The bailiff grinned. "My wife was on the commons yesterday. She thinks you're Galahad. Or Percival."

  "Will you thank her for me? For all of us?"

  Soon the table was spread with bread, cheese, and summer fruit, and Alvin set to eating like a teenager. Purity had a much harder time working up an appetite, though once she had the taste of pears and cheese in her mouth, she found she was hungrier than she had thought.

  "I don't know," said Purity, "why you should ever forgive me."

  "Oh, we forgive you," said Alvin. "We more than forgive you. Verily, here, he's downright obsessed with you."

  Verily only smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Alvin's feeling out of sorts," he said. "He doesn't like jails."

  "Have you been in jail before?" asked Purity.

  "He was acquitted of all charges," said Verily. "Proving that I'm a clever lawyer."

  "Proving I was innocent," said Alvin. "An advantage I don't have this time."

  Only now did Verily show annoyance. "If you think you're guilty, why did you plead innocent?" he said sharply.

  "I'm not guilty of witchcraft," said Alvin. "Under a 'strict reading' or whatever. But the things Mistress Purity said about me, well, you and I both know they're true." As if to demonstrate it, he peeled the manacle from his right hand like it was made of clay.

  Purity gasped. She had never seen such power. Even hearing Arthur Stuart's account on the riverbank, she had not realized how effortlessly Alvin worked his will with iron. No incantations, no sign of strain.

  "Mistress Purity is startled," said Verily.

  "What do you think?" said Alvin. "Should I spread some iron on this bread and eat it?"

  "Don't be a show-off," said Verily.

  Alvin leaned back in his chair and ate a thick slab of bread and cheese-- a posture he could not have assumed while manacled. His mouth full, he talked anyway. "I reckon you needed to remember, Mistress Purity, that what you said about me was true. Don't you go blaming yourself for telling the truth."

  Purity found herself on the verge of tears. "The whole world's awry," she said.

  "True," said Alvin, "but in different ways in different places. Which is what makes traveling worthwhile."

  "I know you only mean good for me, both of you. Though you're annoyed with each other. I don't know why."

  "Verily Cooper thinks he's in love with you," said Alvin.

  Purity didn't know what to say to that. Nor did Verily, who was blushing as he ate a slice of pear. He didn't contradict Alvin, though.

  "Not that I don't approve of Verily falling in love," said Alvin, "and my wife tells me you're a good girl, loyal and smart and patient and all the other virtues that a wife of Mr. Cooper has to have."

  "I didn't know that I had met your wife, sir," said Purity.

  "You haven't," said Alvin. "Don't you remember what Arthur told you about her?"

  "That she was a candle."

  "Torch," said Alvin.

  "We don't hear much about knackery here in New England. Except as it pertains to disposing of the bodies of downer animals."

  Verily laughed aloud. "I told you she had a sense of humor, Al."

  She allowed herself a small smile.

  "Let's just say that Margaret thinks you're worth the trouble of my staying in jail a couple of nights," said Alvin.

  "You sustained me while we were running yesterday, didn't you?"

  Alvin shrugged. "Who knows how tough you are? At some point, everybody gives in and says what the questioner wants to hear."

  "I'd like to think I could withstand torture as well as the next person," said Purity.

  "That's my point," said Alvin. "Nobody can withstand it, if the questioner knows what he's doing. The body betrays us. Most people never find that out because they're never asked a question that matters. And those that are, most give the answer the questioner wants without a lick of torture. It's only the strong ones, the most stubborn ones as gets tortured."

  "Mr. Cooper," said Purity, "I hope you don't think I'm giving any stock to Mr. Smith's jests about your feelings toward me."

  Verily smiled at her. "You don't know me, so I can hardly expect you to welcome such an idea."

  "On the contrary," said Purity, "I know you very well. I saw you in court today, and on the commons, too. I know the kind of man you are."

  "You don't know he farts in his sleep," said Alvin.

  Purity looked at him, appalled. "Everyone does," she answered, "but most people find no need to mention it during meals."

  Alvin grinned at her. "Just didn't want this to turn into a love feast. Not while my lawyer here is trying to burn down the barn to kill the fleas."

  Verily's face darkened. "It's not 'fleas' when innocent people die, and others become perjurers out of fear."

  "How much justice will be done when judges go striking down laws whenever some lawyer gives them half an excuse?"

  "That's theory," said Verily. "When the practice of the law leads to injustice, then the law must change."

  "That's what Parliament is for," said Alvin. "And the assembly."

  "What politician would dare announce that he was in favor of witchcraft?"

  The argument might have gone on, but at that moment the door of the courtroom opened and Hezekiah Study came in. He gave no greeting, but stalked down the aisle straight to a chair directly behind the defense table. He spoke only to Verily Cooper.

  "Don't do it," said Hezekiah Study.

  "Don't do what?"

  "Don't take on the witchers," he said. "Try the case. Or better yet, if your client really has the knack he's charged with, shed the chains and begone with you."

  Only then did Hezekiah notice the manacle lying warped and deformed in Alvin's lap. Alvin grinned at him and mashed the last hunk of bread and cheese into his mouth all at once.

  "Pardon me, sir, but who are you?" asked Verily Cooper.

  "This is Reverend Study," said Purity. "He advised me not to charge Alvin with witchcraft. I wish I'd listened to him then."

  "You'll wish you had listened to me now," said Hezekiah.

  "The law is on my side," said Verily.

  "No, it isn't," said Hezekiah. "Nothing is on your side."

  "Sir, I know my case, and I know the law."

  "So did I," said Hezekiah. "I tried the same strategy."

  Now Verily was interested. "You're a lawyer, sir?"

  "I was a lawyer. I gave it up and became a minister."

  "But you lost a witch trial, I take it?"

  "I tried to use the strict reading you're going for," said Hezekiah. "I tried to show that the testimony of the witcher was tainted. Everything you're doing."

  "And it failed?" asked Verily.

  "What do you do," asked Hezekiah, "when the witcher calls you to the stand?"

  Verily stared at him in silence.

  "The witcher can call my lawyer?" asked Alvin.

  "It's ecclesiastical law," said Hezekiah. "The law is older than advocacy. There is no privilege unless you're an ordained minister."

  "So they called you," said Purity. "But what did you say?"

  "I could only tell the truth," said Hezekiah. "I had seen my clients use their knacks. Harmless! A gift of God, I said it, but there was my testimony." Tears flowed down his cheeks. "That's what hanged them."

  Purity was weeping also. "What were their knacks?"

  "Who?" asked Alvin.

  "My mother and father," said Purity, looking at Hezekiah for confirmation.

  He nodded and looked away.

  "What did they die for?" asked Purity. "What was their crime?"

  "Your mother could heal animals," said Hezekiah. "That's what killed her. A neighbor with an old quarrel waited too long, called her too late, and his mule died, so he said that by the power of Satan she cursed the animals of all those who didn't please her."

  "And my father?"

  "He could draw a straight line."

  The words hung there for a moment.

  "That's all?" asked Alvin.

  "On paper. In the soil. Truer than a surveyor. His fences were the marvel of the neighborhood. He won the plowing prize every year at the parish fair. No one could cut so straight a furrow. His wife always made him cut the fabric when she was sewing. People remembered his knack when his wife was on trial, and he admitted it readily, seeing no harm in it, since it neither harmed others nor gave him any advantage. Except at the fair."

  Purity could hardly talk for weeping. "That's why they died?"

  "They died for envy," said Hezekiah, "and for the bloodlust of the witcher, and for the incompetence and arrogance, the pride of their attorney who called himself their friend but dared to put their lives at risk in a larger cause. I could have won them a banishment. They were well-liked and the trial was unpopular. The witcher was willing to dicker. But I had a cause." He gripped Purity's hands. "I can't let this man do the same to you! I've spent my life trying to keep you from the same fate, because they marked you, don't think they haven't. Quill knows who you are. Because of you, they couldn't hang your mother until you were born, and the outrage built and built among the people. There was a strong sentiment to break them out of jail. But the witchers called in the authorities and they guarded the hangings. And then they sent you away, so as not to remind the people of the outrage that had been done against you. To this day, God help the witcher who comes through that part of Netticut, because the people know the truth there."