Witch! The Alison Balfour Story

by Adrien Leduc

the room, headed up the small flight of stone stairs which led to her sleeping chambers. Patrick waved a hand with a dismissive air as Margaret slammed the door shut behind her.

  Claire, nervous at being left alone with the wild-eyed, clearly unpredictable earl, curtsied and made for the main door.

  “Ah!” said Patrick, raising a hand.

  Claire stopped, though she dared not look at him.

  “Look at me. Let me see your eyes.”

  The maid turned, slowly, so that she faced his direction, but still did not look at him.

  “I said look at me!” he bellowed.

  Claire, shaking now, raised her eyes slowly so that they could settle on Patrick’s face.

  Patrick smiled. “Was that so difficult? You’ve such a pretty face, it’s only fair I get to look at you.”

  Claire averted her eyes and Patrick let out a long sigh.

  “Very well, be gone with you. I’ve no need for women who detest me so.”

  The maid didn’t need telling twice and she hurried out of the room without so much as a glance back.

  SCENE 13 – JOHN STEWART PAYS A VISIT TO THE DUNGEONS

  A short time later. We find ourselves coming upon a conversation between John Stewart and the two jailers (Gerard and Otis) inside the dungeons.

  “And what is it to you if I see the prisoner who is my servant?”

  John Stewart eyed Gerard and Otis through narrowed eyes.

  “Well...my lord...it’s not...” Gerard began, “Henry has asked that we not admit anyone...”

  John smiled. Of course Henry would impose such a condition. “I’ll tell you what,” he said quietly, taking a step towards the gangly, pock-marked man with the yellow-stained teeth, “I’ll give you a piece of silver each to let me pass through. I’ve seen Henry leave just a short time ago and I would like to speak with my servant. Besides, who are you to defy me?” He removed his change purse and plucked from it two pieces of silver which he now held out for the two jailers. “Shall you allow me to pass?”

  “Aye, my lord!” cried Otis immediately, his eyes fixed eagerly on the silver pieces John held.

  John smiled. “There we are then, a simple transaction.” He dropped the silver into Otis’ hand, knowing full well they would likely both be taken from him by Gerard. “I shan’t be more than a quarter of an hour.”

  “I...I don’t know, my lord,” said Gerard suddenly, obviously having second thoughts. “Henry gave us strict orders.”

  “And my rank and office,” Patrick growled, “supersede those of Henry. Now I will pass,” he said, making a show of reaching for his dagger, “or I will run you through.”

  Gerard’s eyes flashed scarlet as he eyed the dagger at Patrick’s fingertips. “Certainly, sir. Certainly.”

  “Good. Now which way to my servant, Thomas Paplay?”

  It took more than five minutes for John to descend three sets of stone stairs and walk along two dark and musty corridors, but soon John was seated beside his servant. They are alone, the two jailers having stayed back near the dungeon entrance.

  “Please, sir! Save me!” were the first words from Thomas’ mouth upon seeing John. “Tell them they have an innocent man!”

  Thomas, still encased in the caschillaws, his eyes wild with terror, looked a poor sight. His skin was burned in many places and the rag that had spent many an hour in poor Thomas’ mouth lay on the floor beside him, he having managed to dislodge it with his tongue.

  John conjured up a look of dismay and shook his head. “I’m afraid that even if I were to say such a thing, they would not believe me. It is said that Henry found a vial of adder’s venom in your chambers. Were you involved? Did you try to murder my brother?”

  “No, sir! Absolutely not! I had nothing to do with the plot against your brother! I swear on my mother’s grave!”

  John pursed his lips. “I want to believe you, Thomas. I do. You have been a faithful servant to me these past few years.”

  “Sir! I swear to you! I swear on all that is holy. I had nothing to do with the plot against your brother! I am innocent!”

  John nodded, allowing himself to appear convinced. “As you know, there is already suspicion amongst some of the courtiers that I want my brother dead. My servant being found to have in his possession, a vial of adder’s venom, well, now this doesn’t look good for me now, does it?”

  “I know, sir! I know! Please, I do not know from whence that vial came! I had never seen it before that moment!”

  John’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps your wife...?”

  Thomas shook his head. “No! June? She would never!”

  “Well, Henry believes you to be guilty,” said John with a sniff. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have you here.”

  “But why?”

  “Because of the vial, Thomas! And because Henry needs someone to place the blame on.”

  Thomas blinked, watching his employer through tear-filled eyes, a pained expression on his face.

  “I know this is a terrible situation, Thomas...I don’t know what else to tell you.” He scanned the young man’s body from head to toe, his body encased in the iron frame, his burned and scarred flesh clearly apparent through the spaces between the bars. “What I can tell you is that if you truly are innocent...and if you love your wife and child – which I am certain you do – then you may want to consider extracting yourself from this situation.”

  “How, sir? I’ll do anything.”

  “Well...” John had to think carefully for a moment. “There are certain folk on our island who delve in the dark arts.”

  “Magic?”

  John frowned. “Witches.”

  “Witches?”

  “That’s what I said. Witches, Thomas, are the kind of folk who deal in poison. It is common knowledge that poison is a woman’s weapon...perhaps there is a witch in our midst. Perhaps there is a witch on Orkney who wishes my dear brother dead. Perhaps...” he paused for effect, “we can steer Henry to a witch and you can go free.”

  “You think so?”

  John shrugged. “It’s worth trying, is it not?”

  “I’ll do anything.” Thomas’ expression was pleading once more. “I can’t possibly leave my wife and daughter to go it alone in this cruel world.”

  John sighed. “Well then, we need to think of someone...a woman, to be clear...a woman who delves in potions and things of that sort...” While John was no master at chess or keeping tally of the treasury, he was certainly shrewd and resourceful when it came to saving his skin. He had acquired these talents out of sheer necessity over the years, and these talents did not desert him in this instance. “I know of a woman,” he said quietly, “she resides with her family in Stenness. She is said to be a medicine woman. She prepares ointments and salves and potions and the like. One of Margaret’s relations...a Lady Bellenden...I heard tell of her regularly procuring a salve from this woman of Stenness. Balfour. That’s the woman’s name. She is well-known in these parts. It would not be too far a stretch of the imagination to suggest that she prepared the vial of adder’s venom destined for my brother.”

  Thomas’ eyes were sad.

  “You look troubled.”

  “Sir...how can I...if she is innocent as I am...how can I place this burden on her?”

  John smiled. The weak were all the same. They were all the same with their values and morals and integrity. And where did it ever get them in life? They often ended up with their heads on pikes...

  “It is your decision, Thomas. I leave this up to you. But if I were in your position - ” he paused as he took in once more the state of the young man’s burned and scarred body, “I would certainly not hesitate to divert attention from myself. Again, think of your wife and daughter...”

  SCENE 14 – HENRY PROVIDES AN UPDATE

  While John Stewart is in the dungeons, Henry has gone to call on his brother, Earl Patrick Stewart. Patrick stands at the table by the fire, pouring himself a mug of ale. Candlelight flickers and dances along the walls. A
knock at the door makes him jump and he splashes a few drops of ale on the table.

  “Who is it?” demanded Patrick, wiping up the ale he had spilled.

  “It is, my lord. Henry.”

  “Enter.”

  Patrick replaced the cloth over the pitcher of ale and then, on second thought, removed the cloth.

  “My lord - ” the chamberlain began, taking a few steps into the room and closing the door behind him.

  “ - hold your tongue, Henry. Here.”

  Henry stopped and watched as the earl poured a second mug of ale.

  “Drink this. Let me know if it’s safe for consumption,” said Patrick dryly, turning to the chamberlain and handing him the mug.

  “My lord...” Henry eyed the mug with great uncertainty.

  Patrick smiled. “Don’t fear, my friend. If it is poisoned, your death will be swift.”

  Henry nodded, though beads of sweat had appeared on his forehead. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “No, thank you, Henry.”

  Patrick watched as Henry smelled the ale in his mug, swirled it around, and finally took a cautious sip.

  “Your verdict?”

  Henry swallowed the ale in his mouth and gave a nod. “Tastes fine to me.”

  “Splendid,” said Patrick with a smile, replacing the cloth over the pitcher of ale and taking up his mug. “To health and longevity.”

  Henry raised his glass. “To health and longevity.”

  “So then, have you news for me? What of Thomas Paplay? Has he confessed to being a part of the plot to have me poisoned? Surely you still don’t think he acted alone?”

  Henry swallowed the knot in his throat. “No, my lord...I do not. I do believe he