Page 155 of The Knucker King

Avice nodded and pressed her face against the cold iron. John tried to hook his fingers through, fumbling with the rag, loosening it at a pace slower than a snail.

“Avice Gardener and Jonathan Fisher have been found guilty of several crimes,” Father Peter continued. She wanted to flinch at the sound of their names but held firm as John tugged at the gag. “These crimes have been against the church, Lamorna, Cornwall, Wessex, the King, and Christendom itself.”

There were collective murmurs behind her back, and a woman called out, “What crimes, and found guilty by who?”

Avice could not be sure, but it sounded like Joan. The young woman shivering on the pallet just days ago was the only one who voiced a protest.

Silence followed.

One heartbeat.

Two.

“By the esteemed members of the Moot council.” This was a different voice. Another one she knew, George Courier. The man whose cousin she had saved was one of the men who had found her guilty of crimes they had not even explained.

A different woman’s voice replied; Avice thought it may have been Matilda. “You heard Goodwife Joan! What crimes?”

A loud banging on the bars had her stumbling back, falling painfully on her rear, sending a jolt of agony up her spine.

“Stop that!” Robert barked, brandishing a club high above his head. “You will only use your tongue to admit to your crimes, and not for your filthy witching words.”

She grunted in response, eyes burning with fury. She was weak. The blood loss and pain made it difficult to focus on much besides the throbbing agony on her side.

“Avice?” John asked. “Can you stand? Are you alright?”

She shook her head and struggled to keep her eyes open. She caught snippets of the crimes listed. Their words muffled in her ears, as though the speaker was covered in a veil.

“Speaking with the little devils in the woods, witchcraft, heresy, and fornicating with serpents,” Father Peter declared.

“Where are your witnesses?!” a woman screeched; Avice fancied it could be Catherine.

“Me!”

The new voice was vaguely familiar to Avice, and she turned her throbbing head to the front of the gallows. It was Lucille, the young woman present at Boarden’s birth and Father Peter’s intended. She turned to the iron cages and extended her arm. Avice never expected the knife in her back to come from the point of another woman’s finger.

“I saw them both fornicating with serpents at Lamorna Cove just yesterday!” she declared primly.

“Thank you, Miss Lucille,” Father Peter praised.

Avice dropped her chin to her chest.

“Help me.”

Help me.

She jolted.

The words were both inside and outside her head.

She looked to John, who had slumped against the bars. Could no one hear it? Who was that? She did not know. Her mind was foggy and her vision shadowed. She could not be sure, but it sounded like the voice was both inside her mind and echoed from within the church.

“Help me.”

Help me.

“For their crimes against God, the church, and the King. I sentence them both to hang. They can admit and repent for their sins before they meet the gallows, so they may still find a place in heaven,” Father Peter announced.

The crowd gave a collective gasp.