Witch! The Alison Balfour Story

by Adrien Leduc

that you are charged with conspiring to murder Earl Patrick Stewart. Your name has been given by a prisoner and you shall henceforth be transported to Kirkwall Castle where you will be questioned. Is that understood?”

  Utterly speechless, Alison could not find the words she wanted. “Who...what...I don’t understand...”

  Anna, eyes on her mother, started to whine. “Mum?”

  Abraham’s reaction differed. “What the hell is the meaning of this!? Is this some kind of joke!? You come onto my property at five o’clock on a Saturday morning - ”

  “Quiet, old man, or we shall have to arrest you as well,” said Henry, his tone menacing and the cogs in his head seeming to turn. “On second thought, jailers, arrest them all. I see this plot may be thicker than we thought. Surely a witch’s family must be aware of her sorcery. Tell me,” he asked, setting his beady eyes on Abraham, “did you do anything to stop your daughter? Did you report her to the sheriff?”

  “She’s my wife,” Abraham snarled, taking a step closer to Henry whom, with his height, he was able to look down upon. “And she is most certainly not a witch.”

  Alison, seeming to find her voice again, stepped in between the two men and appealed to the Earl’s chamberlain. “Do you honestly believe me to be a witch?”

  Henry shifted his gaze from Abraham to Alison and the look of disdain he gave her instantly made her nauseous. “Aye, I do. And it seems we’ve come across an entire brood of witches,” he added, his eyes moving to the two children. He snapped his fingers. “Jailers.”

  The three men standing a foot behind Henry stepped forward. “Yes, sir.”

  “Seize these four and transport them to the castle dungeons immediately!”

  Alison, her eyes wide with fear, looked from Henry to her family. “No! Surely not! Surely this isn’t actually happening!”

  The jailers ignored her protests and took hold of her arms as Abraham stepped forward to defend his wife.

  “This is an abomination!” the old man roared, waving his cane at Henry who in turn took hold of his cane and pulled Abraham to the ground with a mighty tug.

  “Mum!” Anna cried, rushing to her mother as the jailers hauled her toward the wagon Henry’s party had brought with them. The rear part of the wagon was constructed with iron bars and a locking gate, a cage on wheels for transporting prisoners.

  “Anna!” Alison’s eyes were wild and her hair had come undone as she fought with two of the jailers, the other jailer letting go of her arm to move on to Anna.

  The girl screamed as this jailer took her up in one arm and threw her kicking and crying into the back of the wagon.

  “You bastards!” Alison roared, clawing and kicking at the two jailers.

  The third jailer meanwhile assisted Henry with William and Abraham who were beginning to prove a challenge for the portly chamberlain. Before long however, the two men had overpowered the ten year old boy and the eighty-one year old man and the entire Balfour family found itself locked in the wagon, en route to Kirkwall Castle.

  SCENE 17 – THE TORTURE OF ALISON BALFOUR AND HER FAMILY

  Kirkwall Castle. Dungeons. The same dungeon in which Thomas Paplay, now “recovering” in a cell off to one side, was tortured and gave Alison Balfour’s name to Henry. Present now are Henry, the two jailers, and Alison. Alison’s family – husband Abraham, son William, and daughter Anna – are held in a cell some twenty feet away so that Alison – close enough that Alison can hear the whimpers of her daughter and the cries of her son.

  “I shall never confess to a crime I am not guilty of!” cried Alison from where she stood, completely naked and shackled to the cold, stone wall.

  “Witch!” Henry took hold of Alison’s hair and wrenched her head from side to side. “Confess! Admit that you prepared a vial of adder’s poison for Earl Patrick Stewart!”

  “Never!”

  Henry slammed her head against the stone wall which caused Alison to cry out.

  From a short distance away can be heard the cries of William and Anna and the shouts of Abraham to “release my wife at once!”

  “Now then,” said Henry, wiping the sweat from his brow and sticking his face into Alison’s so that she could smell his garlic breath, “what shall we use on you?”

  “How about the pincers, sir?” Gerard offered with a wicked grin.

  Otis guffawed and clapped his hands together at the prospect.

  Henry smiled. “Very well. We’ll start off easy. Fetch me the pincers...and make sure they’re hot. There’s nothing like fire to release the devil from a witch.”

  “How? How can you do this! I am innocent! I had nothing to do with the things you’ve accused me of!” cried Alison, growing frantic to the point that she feared she might break. She had never been in such a position, so powerless, so helpless...

  The continued cries of William and Anna, and hapless shouts from Abraham, echoed throughout the dungeon.

  Henry ignored her and waited patiently for Gerard to return with the heated pincers. When he did, Henry seized them greedily and moved on Alison.

  “You’ve got a few places we can use these on...how about we start here...” he said with a smile.

  Alison’s ensuing screams rattled the ear drums of all three men and echoed throughout the corridors. In his cell nearby, staring numbly at the stone ceiling and wrapped in his rags, his burns beginning to turn gangrenous, Thomas shivered. He had not intended for Alison and her family – these people he didn’t even know – to endure such suffering. What had he done?

  For more than a quarter of an hour, Henry worked on Alison with the hot pincers. He pulled here and tugged there and twisted this and wrenched on that, her screams seeming to encourage him.

  However, she did not break (as she thought she might) and eventually, with the pincers completely cooled and Henry growing impatient, he called on the two jailers to bring the family into the chamber.

  “Bring the old man first!” he ordered.

  Abraham did his utmost to fight against Gerard and Otis as they wrestled him from the holding cell and who now strapped him to the wooden table at the centre of the room.

  “You cowards! Cowards!” the old man roared. “Preying on innocent women and children!”

  Gerard laughed, flashing his yellow teeth as he and Otis finished strapping him to the table

  “Are ye feeling strong, old man?” asked Henry, moving towards him. He snapped his fingers at a wooden plank that leaned against the wall opposite. Beside the plank, stacked into a neat pyramid, were numerous heavy-looking rocks.

  Taking his queue, Gerard left Otis pinning Abraham to the wooden table while he took up the wooden plank.

  Henry looked on as Gerard then laid the plank across Abraham’s chest while Abraham continued to shout and Alison continued to plead with them.

  “This needs to stop! Now!” Alison’s voice was growing hoarse now and she coughed as she tried to utter the words.

  “Quiet, whore,” Henry hissed as he turned his back on her. “Pile on the rocks,” he ordered.

  “Don’t you dare call my wife a whore!” Abraham bellowed as the two jailers began taking up rocks from the pile and stacking them atop the wooden plank.

  “How many do ye reckon your husband can hold?” asked Henry, turning to face Alison.

  Horrified, Alison shook her head. “Stop! You’re hurting him!”

  Henry silenced her with a slap across the face.

  “And you call yourselves Christians...” said Alison as she spat blood. “Are you proud of yourselves?”

  Henry took two steps backwards as her blood reached his clothing.

  “There we go, old man, just a few more I reckon and you’ll crack like an egg...” said Gerard with a laugh.

  “Crack, crack, crack,” chimed Otis as he took up two more rocks and placed them across the wooden plank.

  Beneath the weight of the half dozen rocks now on the plank, Abraham began to wheeze.

  “Do you confess yet?” Henry demanded, this
time keeping a safe distance from Alison lest she try to spit at him again.

  “Confess!? Confess to what!? We’ve done nothing!”

  Henry shook his head. “A man confessed that you supplied him with a vial of adder’s venom. I have a confession in writing. I want the same from you and this can all be over.”

  “How can I confess to something I know nothing about!? Please! This is not right! Let me speak to the earl. We’ll see what he has to say.”

  “I’m afraid he doesn’t want to hear anything you have to say,” said Henry thickly, returning his attention to Abraham upon whom numerous rocks were now piled nearly a foot high.

  “Please! Stop it!” Alison screamed seeing her husband was in trouble now, his aged frame brittle and surely not able to bear so much weight.

  Three more rocks were placed atop the plank and there then came the sound of Abraham’s ribcage cracking. Alison screamed and Thomas, still shivering on the floor in his cell, knew from her tone that some terrible thing had been done.

  “Still not ready to confess, are ye?” asked Henry, taking hold of Alison’s breast and wrenching it firmly from side to side so that she winced in pain.

  “You killed him,” she sobbed. “You killed my husband...”

  Henry pursed his lips. “You killed your husband because you didn’t confess. How many more must suffer on account of you?”

  “I didn’t do anything! I have nothing to do with this thing you’ve accused me of! Why won’t you believe me!?”

  Henry ignored her and turned to Gerard. “Bring the boy,” he said with a snap of his fingers.

  “No!”