Alis (24 page)

Again he shook his head. “Mistress Alis, you do yourself no good by speaking in such a way. You must come with us to the place where you are to be held. You may name whomever you wish to assist you in your defense.”

He seemed to notice Elzbet for the first time and nodding toward her said, “Your friend may accompany you if she wishes and fetch for you such things as are necessary.”

Already Alis could feel her courage ebbing away, but Elzbet took her hand again and squeezed it hard. Alis lifted her head. She would not let them see that she was afraid.

 

 

The Great Council Judges were lodged in the Community guesthouse, and Alis was to be held there also. She was put into a room at the back, and one of the carpenters came shamefacedly to attach bars to the window. A woman hired from an inn on the highway was to wait on her as far as was necessary, bringing her food and drink, as well as water to wash in, and doing whatever else is needful for someone who is kept in one room. She was a huge, brawny, silent creature who cared only for the pay she was getting and was more than willing to act as jailer if she were paid well to do it. Alis would get neither help nor companionship from her.

Elzbet brought some clothes and the other things she needed. Alis asked about her parents. Why had they not come to the prayer house with everyone else? Did they know what had happened? Elzbet could not tell her, but she would find out and come back on the morrow, she said. She had permission to visit, only the woman, the jailer, must be there all the time. When the time came for her friend to go, Alis clung to her, whispering in terror, “If Thomas has his way they will hang me.”

Elzbet embraced her. “Don’t be afraid, Alis. No one could believe such a monstrous lie. Thomas has overreached himself this time, you’ll see. I must go, for the baby will need feeding. I will come to you here every day.”

Soon after she had gone, Master Seth, the temporary Minister, arrived bringing Alis’s parents. They had been taken aside beforehand, they said, so that they might not have to hear the news in public among their neighbors. Alis flung her arms about Hannah crying, “It is not true. It is not true. I did not kill him.”

Her mother returned her embrace. “Of course not, daughter. You need not tell us so. We know it, and we must take counsel together to determine how you are to refute this wicked accusation. Master Thomas means you ill because he thinks you opposed him in the matter of the whipping, I suppose. Truly he dwells in darkness. Well, you must tell the Judges the truth and trust to the Maker for justice.”

They spoke at length of what should be done, and gave her what comfort they could. Alis listened to all they said but her heart misgave her. She dared not name anyone to help her defend herself, for she knew she could not speak the truth. She had told the story that she and Galin had agreed upon and she would have to keep to it.

T
he three Judges sat at the Elders’ table facing the packed benches, and beside them was a small, dry man with a voice that scratched like a quill on parchment, who was there to keep the record. On either side, facing each other, two more tables: one for Alis and one for Thomas, her accuser. The chief of the Judges was the man with the cropped gray hair—Master William—who had spoken to the people on the day that she had been accused. Now he stood up, and at once the benches fell silent. His voice rang out in the stillness.

“People of Freeborne, we are here today to test the accusation of Master Thomas against Mistress Alis, that she attacked her husband, Minister Galin, with a knife, causing his death. She who is accused, he who is her accuser, and all who wish or are asked to testify, must take an oath before the Maker to speak truly in all things pertaining to this grave matter. Let accuser and accused be the first to swear.”

Thomas spoke the oath soberly as if he knew how momentous a thing he was undertaking. He was respectful, too, in his manner toward the Judges. Alis thought fearfully that he meant to make a good impression, and that these men from far away could not know what he was really like. Her own voice trembled as she spoke the words; her heart was hammering with fright and she could feel her legs shaking.

William was still on his feet, watching carefully. Now he said to Thomas, “You have sworn to speak truly. And have a care, Master Thomas—the Maker hears you and will judge you. As you fear to be cast away into the darkness forever, weigh well your words.” He paused. “Now make your charge.”

Thomas bowed his head slightly toward the Judges and said simply, “I charge that Mistress Alis attacked Minister Galin with a knife and so caused his death.”

William turned to Alis. “You have sworn to speak truly. Remember also, Mistress Alis, that the Maker hears you and will judge you. As you fear to be cast away into darkness forever, do not be tempted to lie.” As he had done for Thomas, he paused. “Now answer this charge.”

She did not hesitate. “It is false.”

He nodded his head and turned again to Thomas. “Master Thomas, you have made a grave accusation and must give good reason for it, bringing witnesses if you can, to bear out the truth of what you say. And Mistress Alis”—he turned toward her—“you must turn away the accusation and bring witnesses on your own side if you are able.” He looked out at the crowd. “Any person of this Community who is called as a witness must speak before us. And any who is not called but has knowledge that bears upon this case must offer it up. Now let us hear what grounds Master Thomas has. You may sit, Mistress Alis.”

Thankfully, she obeyed him. Then Thomas began to speak. “I am from the Community of Two Rivers and was a reforming Elder there. I came to Freeborne with my wife on a visit to her sister, and we were given permission to remain. I had known Mistress Alis before, and the manner of her husband’s death seemed most strange to me. I was much troubled in spirit concerning it, as you shall hear. I request that the Judges hear the testimony of the Healer, Mistress Clara, who attended Minister Galin on the night he was attacked.”

Mistress Clara did not look at Alis as she came to the witness stand. She was a thin, sad-faced woman, much loved for the gift she had of easing pain with her hands. Her little boy had died of the fever but still she went quietly from house to house, bringing what relief she could, and making no account of her loss it seemed, except that she was quieter and gentler than ever. When she had sworn the oath, Thomas asked her to say what had happened when Alis had come to summon the Healers. She described how she had been woken by the frantic knocking on the door and Alis’s desperate pleas for them to come at once. Her husband had been attacked; she had found him on the doorstep. He was terribly hurt. He would die if they did not come to save him.

One of the Judges leaned forward to ask whether Alis had seemed genuine in her distress.

“Yes indeed,” Clara said. “There was no doubt of it. She was half out of her mind, all wild and staring. But for the news she brought, we would have kept her there but his need was greater, so we went to him.”

“And what did you find?”

Clara described the terrible wound and how they had dressed it again, though this had barely staunched the bleeding. There was little they could do, for Minister Galin had lost much blood and was greatly weakened.

The Judge leaned back again and nodded to Thomas to resume his questioning.

“Mistress Clara, you have much experience as a Healer, have you not? Had you ever seen such a wound before?”

Clara nodded. “Yes indeed, Master Thomas, for sometimes at harvest there will be injuries when the great scythes are used. And those who work leather, too, use sharp knives, and it is all too easy to cut flesh to the bone if one is careless.”

Thomas nodded. “But there was something unusual about this wound, was there not? Something that prompted you to seek counsel?”

For the first time Clara looked at Alis. It was a troubled look and Alis knew there was trouble to come.

The Healer went on in her soft voice. “Mistress Alis told us that she had found her husband on the doorstep and that she did not know how long he had lain there. And indeed it was clear to see from the wound that he had been hurt some time—some hours—before we came to him. But . . .”

She looked again at Alis, her face sorrowful. But there was no help for it. She turned, not to Thomas, but to William. “You must understand that a wound left untended looks different from one that is dressed immediately. If there is a great deep cut such that the edges draw back, as this was, it will be plain to see whether it has been left. And it was not so with the Minister. His was a cut some hours old, but it had been bound up straightaway. We did not understand how this could have been. Who had dressed the wound if not Mistress Alis? But if it was she, why had she not come at once to fetch us? We might have saved his life, for he must have bled much in the hours between.”

There was a shocked murmur from the crowd. Despair seized Alis. They had not dreamed, she and Galin, that their story would be so easily discredited. Thomas’s eyes were gleaming and his lips curled in a smile he could not suppress. No wonder he looked pleased, she thought in terror. How was she to explain the delay? William was looking earnestly at the Healer.

“Mistress Clara, are you quite sure of this? Your evidence might help to hang a woman. It would be an ill thing for you to speak with more certainty than you feel.”

She made a piteous sound but she nodded her head. It was anguish to her to speak what might bring someone to the gallows but she was sure. She and the other Healers had discussed it.

“Why did you tell this to Master Thomas and not your own Elders? Was he zealous to search out the matter?”

She looked briefly at Thomas and then back at William. “Perhaps we did wrong, but the Senior Elder is Mistress Alis’s mother and we hardly thought the matter could rightly be put before her. At first we did not know what to do but Master Thomas came to us in private, saying that he was troubled by the strangeness of the Minister’s death and asking our opinion. Knowing that he was an Elder in his own Community, we thought we might properly unburden ourselves to him.”

William thanked her soberly and Thomas resumed his questioning. Had the Minister spoken at all, either when the Healers first attended him or later?

Clara said sadly, “He was too feeble, though he was conscious at first, and he tried to speak when Mistress Alis told us what he had said—that he had been attacked by a man on the doorstep. Most of the time after that he was unconscious, but late in the day he came round, and asked for Mistress Alis.”

Thomas interrupted her. “Did he ask for her? What were his words exactly, if you please, Mistress Clara?”

She paused an instant, as if to recall more clearly, and then said, “He opened his eyes and said Alis quite clearly—that was all. He wanted to say more, you could see. He tried, but then he was gone again, poor soul.”

“It is possible, is it not,” Thomas asked her, “that when he tried to speak the first time, the Minister wished to contradict Mistress Alis’s account of the attack, and to tell you that his wife was his assailant?”

Her eyes widened in horror. “Oh, no! No, I am sure he did not!” She clasped her hands together and then said falteringly, “But it is possible . . . I suppose it is possible. He was distressed, certainly.” There were tears in her eyes.

Thomas went on, “And when Minister Galin spoke his wife’s name later in the day, might he not again have been attempting to accuse her, rather than asking for her?”

Poor Clara! She was an honest woman. She could not deny that it might have been so. Thomas thanked her.

“If I may sum up what you have told us, Mistress Clara: Minister Galin’s wound had been dressed immediately, presumably by his wife, but it was some hours before you were called. He was too weak by then to report what had happened himself, but he was in distress and tried to speak while Mistress Alis was telling you. After that, he once uttered his wife’s name and wished to say more but was not able. Have I your testimony correct?”

She nodded, still wide-eyed with shock. Thomas smiled, and Alis was reminded of the first time she had seen that smile. Now she knew why it had so terrified his wife. William turned to Alis. Did she wish to question the witness? She shook her head and Clara went back to her place among the crowd.

Thomas looked at William. “With your permission, Master William, I would like to ask Mistress Alis to explain, if she will, how it came about that the Healers were not called at once to the Minister so that his life might be saved. Was it”—his voice was suddenly louder—“that, having struck the blow, she found she had not killed him and hoped that if she waited he would die of his injury?”

“No!” Alis was on her feet. “It is a wicked lie.”

But what could she say without betraying Edge?

“He . . . he bade me wait, my husband. He said that the person who attacked him had done so in fright, woken from sleep suddenly, lying on the doorstep. Galin pitied h—the man, and would have it that we must give him time to escape before I went for help.”

Even as she spoke she knew how false it sounded. Thomas looked scornful and Master William was frowning at her. “It is hard to believe such an explanation. Why should Minister Galin put his own life at risk for the sake of a stranger and, moreover, one who had attacked him? The man
was
a stranger, was he not?”

Thomas said viciously, “Perhaps he was no stranger to
her
but an accomplice—paid to strike the blow for her.”

At once William turned on him. “I am conducting this trial, Master Thomas, and you will not intervene when I ask a question. When you are to speak, I will give you leave. Until then, be silent.” Thomas’s lips tightened but he remained quiet. William continued to stare at him for a few seconds as if daring him to disobey. Then he returned his gaze to Alis. “Mistress Alis, if you please, continue.”