The Witching of the King

by Greg Hoover

  “No,” said Anne, shaking her head. “I can’t leave this room. I’m afraid people will know I’m pretending right away. When they discover the truth, they’ll kill us all.”

  “Then we’ll bring him in here to you,” I said. “We will get our set designers to make an area in here that will create a magical ambiance. Our makeup artists and costume designers will help you look the part. Malachi’s imagination and fear will do the rest.”

  “That’s a good idea,” said Anne. “But what if Malachi isn’t the killer? We’ll have wasted our opportunity, and it may be our last.”

  “You’re right,” I said, scratching my beard. “And I’m also suspicious of a few others.”

  “Then make a list of suspects and invite them all,” said Anne. “This may be our best chance to make the killer show his hand.”

  “Good idea,” I said, smiling at my wife.

  Anne walked to the window and gazed outside for a moment. She then turned back to me and smiled. “With a little luck, it just might work.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  After that, things happened fast. Within an hour, we had the stagehands from our theater company assembled in Anne’s room. Together we worked to transform the chamber into a theatrical set fitting for Ravynna the Witch. During my years at the Globe Theatre, I learned that with the right environment, people will believe almost anything. And in the words of Alban, As you believe, so is it. So, our set designers went to work, and our costume and makeup staff began polishing Anne to look the part.

  It relieved our stagehands to learn that Anne was playing a role last night. They said that they had believed she really was Ravynna the Witch. Anne seemed both pleased and disturbed by the ease at which her long-term friends could believe she had secretly been a wicked witch. And she took little comfort when Judith told her that she personally was relatively sure it wasn’t true.

  The familiar sounds of our stagehands at work calmed me. Finally, I was back in my element. Richard Burbage would play the spokesman for Ravynna, so he could manipulate the crowd and allow Anne to maintain an air of mystery. Anne began rehearsing her routine, and I made a list of the suspects that we would want to question. Thomas and Robert Winter came to mind. Why were they so mysterious? I also had my suspicions about the ambitious priest, Jeremiah Talbot. I wanted everyone related to the murder in any way to be there, even if they weren’t a suspect. My list was growing. And of course, there was Malachi Hunter. The way Hunter switched his allegiance so quickly was disturbing and needed to be explored.

  Malachi had told me about his witch hunting days when he was in Scotland; he seemed frightened by the experience, despite his outward bravado. He told me he was involved in the trial and execution of Janet Wishart. That gave me an idea. What if Ravynna the Witch “summoned” the ghost of Janet Wishart? I was already working on the ghost of Hamlet’s father for my new play. Why not adapt the idea for this situation?

  As I told Richard and Anne about my little scheme, I felt a smile spread across my face.

  “I love it!” said Anne, smiling. “He will be so frightened; he will break and tell us everything.”

  “I like it too,” said Richard. “What did Malachi tell you about it?”

  “Well, it happened during the Scottish Witch Panic of 1597. They tried four hundred women and men as witches. Malachi was a witch-pricker. He and the others tortured and sentenced to death more than a hundred people. Janet Wishart and her son were among the executed.”

  “How was she executed?” asked Anne.

  “Death by hanging, then they burned her body.”

  “So, Anne will pretend to summon Wishart’s ghost,” said Richard. “An excellent plan, but there’s one problem. The actors in the King’s Men are working with performers from other acting companies. If we pull them to do this instead, it will increase the odds of our secret leaking out. And if we raise suspicions, we might be caught before we solve the mystery.”

  “And their anger at being fooled could prove deadly,” said Anne, the color draining from her face.

  “Maybe we could find someone outside the company to play the ghost of the murdered witch,” I suggested.

  “Yes,” Richard said. “But who?”

  “Richard,” I said. “What do you think of using Violet Lewis?”

  He shrugged. “Why her?”

  “She loves the theater, so she may have a hidden talent for acting,” I said. “Also, we have formed a bond with her. Other than her, I’m not sure who else outside of our company that we could trust. Plus, she sympathizes with our cause.”

  Richard nodded his head. “I agree.”

  We sent for Violet to come to Ravynna’s chambers, and we continued to work out the details of our performance. It was exciting to be conspiring together as a team once again. I felt hopeful for the first time since this adventure began.

  ***

  When Violet Lewis came into the room, her eyes were wide with terror. Being summoned to the room of Ravynna the Witch had that effect on people.

  “Don’t worry,” I told her. “Everything is all right.”

  “Sir, please know that I respect the Witch Queen. She has my full support, my full allegiance.” Violet looked frightened. “I hope Her Majesty didn’t read my thoughts, sir.”

  I smiled at her. “Nothing like that, my dear.”

  Violet looked around at the stagehands working. “Sir, if I may ask, what is going on here?”

  “That’s why we wanted to see you.”

  “We? Who else wants to see me?”

  Anne walked up behind her, and Violet turned and gasped when she saw my wife. Violet dropped to her knees before Anne, and cried out, “All hail Ravynna the Witch!”

  The stagehands called back in unison, “All hail Ravynna the Witch!” and smiled at each other.

  “Please,” said Anne, taking Violet’s arms and helping her up. “There is no need for that.”

  “Violet,” I said. “Can we trust you?”

  “Of course, sir,” she replied, looking confused.

  “Violet,” said Anne. “I’m not really a witch. It was all just an act to save William and the girls. Do you understand?”

  Violet broke down in tears and lowered her head. Anne glanced at me with worry in her eyes. We were thinking the same thing: maybe including the young herbalist in our plan was a mistake. When Violet raised her head, she looked relieved and her eyes were shining through tears of joy.

  “Oh yes, ma’am,” she smiled, wiping away her tears. “Yes, I do, I understand completely.”

  “Good,” said Anne, looking as relieved as I was. “Violet, we need your help. So, I will ask you again. Can we trust you?”

  “Oh yes,” Violet nodded. “I want to help in any way I can.”

  “Very good,” I said. “Now, here’s what we need you to do…”

  ***

  The set for the Witch’s Throne Room looked perfect. We darkened the chamber, with lighting only on the raised area where we placed a single royal chair for Ravynna the Witch. Her throne was crafted from dark wood, with exquisite carvings befitting the Witch Queen of England. We placed two glowing charcoal pots on each side of the chair, with burning candles behind them to give the rising smoke an eerie glow. We also put one iron charcoal pot in front of her throne to cast a glowing orange light on her face. Behind her chair, we draped a very thin cloth from the floor to the ceiling to be used as a backdrop. Hidden behind the thin cloth, we placed dry wood and kindling in an iron pot, with a lighted candle placed next to it so we could light the fire at the perfect time. We had used the effect before on stage. The thin cloth with the light behind it would cast mys
terious shadows of anything standing between the light and the curtain. If all went according to our plans, it would create a chilling effect.

  Looking out at the gathering crowd, I felt a familiar flutter in my stomach. Back stage, Anne looked calm. Violet brought her a drink, and Anne sipped it in a relaxed manner. Despite her outward tranquility, I didn’t want to disturb Anne. She was preparing for the most important performance of her life. Besides, I was nervous enough for the both of us. We had invited a select group of people related to the murder. We also asked Myles Lewis to bring a few servants to make King James and his staff comfortable.

  “Lord have mercy,” I mumbled, as the two nearly deaf servants, Henry and Alyce, entered the room. I would have preferred anyone else. With them were two other servants I hadn’t seen before. I looked for Violet’s sisters, Elspet and Janet, and I was relieved they weren’t there. I trusted Violet, but I was also concerned that sharing this secret with her sisters would be too great of a temptation for her.

  The king agreed to attend and sat in the back of the room; on each side of him stood a guard. Near the king sat many of the Anglican and Puritan clergy. Archbishop Whitgift was there, along with Richard Bancroft. Oliver Fletcher and a few others sat with them. John Reynolds was nearby, too, and several other Puritan leaders.

  Closer to the stage, Thomas and Robert Winter were speaking in hushed voices to each other. Near them were a few courtiers who had been at the chapel on the day of the murder. Also present was William Butler, the king’s physician. In the seats in front of them sat Jeremiah Talbot, the assisting priest on the day of the murder. And Lady Sarah Goody and a few of her friends were sitting in the second row.

  Edward Wilkinson, the retired sheriff, sat on the front row. He wasn’t a suspect, but we had few allies, and I thought he may be helpful if trouble arose. But I kept our real plan a secret from him. For the moment, the fewer who knew the whole truth, the better. I was both nervous and comforted to know that he had a pistol hidden in his wooden leg.

  I brushed my hair back, straightened my clothes, and stepped out to mingle with the crowd and build their expectations. Malachi Hunter stood when I entered the room and he walked over to speak with me.

  “Thank you for ensuring that I was invited to this most prestigious gathering,” said Malachi. “It is a bold new day for England.”

  “Indeed,” I said. “But I have to warn you, Her Majesty is not happy.”

  “She’s not?” Malachi’s smile faded. “Well, of course not. Not everyone here is a loyal supporter of hers like I am. She needs to root out any disloyalty.” Malachi fixed me with his dreadful stare. “No matter where that disloyalty may lie.”

  “You’ll excuse me,” I said, and I turned to speak with others in the room.

  Malachi placed his hand on my arm, and I looked back at him. “You will let the Witch Queen know that I am an experienced torturer, won’t you? And that I’m ready to serve her in this capacity if needed?”

  “Trust me,” I smiled. “She already knows.”

  “Of course,” he responded. “Ravynna sees all and knows all.”

  “Yes,” I paused, and then added, “Ravynna even knows your thoughts.”

  Malachi swallowed hard and nodded.

  I continued through the crowd, building their expectation that something magical and supernatural was about to happen. Alban had told me about the power of faith, and so I worked on building their belief. I suggested, I hinted, but I never outright said what they were about to see. The dominant mood in the room was fear. Incense filled the air as Richard Burbage took to the stage.

  “Your attention, please. In a few moments, Ravynna the Witch Queen will condescend to address you,” said Richard. He looked regal, and his eyes were dark and penetrating. The glowing embers of the charcoal fire in front of the witch’s chair cast a ghastly light on his dark countenance. A chill ran through me. “You will not speak unless you are spoken to,” he continued. “You will answer immediately and truthfully if you are addressed.”

  Someone whispered in the front row, and Richard glared at him so long and with such venom that it even made me uncomfortable.

  “And if you lie,” Richard paused for effect, “Ravynna will know.”

  I swallowed hard and glanced at the faces around the room. Richard’s words and the mysterious environment entranced them.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, Ravynna the Witch!”

  Richard threw a pinch of flash powder into the glowing iron pot in front of him, which flashed with a small, sudden explosion. The crowd gasped as the light and fire flared up, and the scent of sulfur flooded the room. For a moment, we were all blinded by the light. When the smoke cleared and our eyes adjusted, Richard was gone and there sat upon the throne a mysterious figure who seemed to appear out of thin air.

  “All hail Ravynna the Witch!” I said in a loud and majestic voice.

  And the crowd echoed together, “All hail Ravynna the Witch!”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The dark room was cold, and the incense was thick. Ravynna the Witch sat on her royal throne, her face drenched in the glowing orange light of the burning embers. Even though I knew the truth, I felt terror rising in my chest. I almost believed that Anne truly was Ravynna the Witch, and I was afraid. The crowd whispered to each other.

  “Silence!” thundered the voice of the witch. The room became quiet, and Anne let the tension rise and then hang in the air. After what seemed like an eternity, she spoke.

  “Why do you try the patience of your queen? Why do you weary me by having to discipline you like children? Why must I prove my power before you will listen?”

  Ravynna raised her right hand slowly. As she did, a lute we placed on the floor to her right rose into the air. The crowd gasped as the lute rose higher until it was about seven feet in the air. When Ravynna stopped raising her right hand, the lute stopped rising and hung in the cold air. Then Ravynna began strumming her fingers, and as she did so, lute music filled the chamber. Even though she was ten feet away from the levitating lute, the haunting melody filled the room.

  Everything was working perfectly. Unbeknownst to the audience, stagehands pulled thin strings from behind the scenes, making the lute rise on a pulley. And hidden behind the curtain was a lute player, strumming a melancholy tune. I glanced around at the faces in the crowd; they were transfixed.

  Ravynna then raised her left hand, and a flute that we had placed to her left rose into the air. When it reached the same height as the lute, she began fluttering her fingers on her left hand. The flute played, filling the air with eerie music. And all the while, our stagehands were making the real magic and the real music from behind the scenes.

  Ravynna dropped her hands, and the music stopped as the two instruments crashed to the floor. She took a small wax doll and held it up for the audience to see. She tied strings to it and displayed it as a marionette.

  “You,” she said, pointing at me. “Arise.”

  “I will not,” I said.

  Ravynna cackled a cruel laugh. She pulled the strings, making the wax marionette stand up. I stood up, as if pulled by invisible strings. She made the doll dance, and I matched the dance exactly, just like we had practiced. She then dropped the strings, and I fell to the floor like a rag doll, dropped by a child who had grown tired of playing with it. I crawled back to my seat. The crowd gasped and began whispering to each other.

  “Silence!” Ravynna again addressed the crowd.

  “I am not an entertainer, here for your amusement,” she said. “Nor am I a fortune teller, begging for a few coins to reveal your pathetic future. I am Ravynna the Witch, and the veil between the worlds is thin to me. I have done this demonstration for your benefit, so you will
know my power and my grace.”

  I looked around the room, and everyone looked terrified. I wanted to glance behind me to see the king’s face, but I feared it would break the spell the crowd was under.

  “There has been blood spilled in this palace,” Ravynna continued. “And this blood has been taken without my permission. And what is worse, this blood has not been dedicated to my glory. Martin Page, the royal priest, has been murdered while saying Mass in the Royal Chapel. I have no qualms with his murder, except that it was done without my consent. Furthermore, it was done in a bungled attempt to murder the king. And as the High Queen of England, I cannot let this deed pass unpunished.”

  “Take heed, you who sit in the Queen’s Chambers,” Richard Burbage said as he entered from behind the audience. He surprised the crowd with his loud voice. “You are here by the order of the Witch Queen, and you will do as you are told. I warn you, Ravynna will find the one who dared spill human blood without her permission. The Witch Queen is not without mercy. But if you make her drag the truth out of you, the punishment for all will be unbearable.”

  The crowd was silent. A man made the sign of the cross, and a woman by his side began crying. We had them right where we wanted them. It was time for the questioning to begin.

  “You!” Ravynna pointed at Thomas Winter. “Stand and face your queen.”

  Thomas sat and stared at Ravynna. His eyes were defiant. Oh no, I thought. She started with Thomas, and he will resist.

  “Stand!” she commanded. If Anne was afraid, she wasn’t showing it.

  Thomas stood, but still looked defiant.

  “Yes,” he said, never blinking. “What does the lady require?” Thomas paused a moment, and then added with a hint of sarcasm, “My queen.”

  “I require the truth,” said Ravynna. “Why are you here at Hampton Court Palace?”

  “My business is my own,” said Thomas Winter.