White-faced and trembling, Quill sat down.
The hearing went quite smoothly for quite a while. John questioned Purity first. She described the nature of the charges she originally made, and then told how Quill had deformed them, turning harmless frolicking in the river into an incestuous orgy, and a peaceful conversation on the riverbank into a witches' sabbath. He asked her about the professors from the college, and she affirmed that she had never mentioned them and only found out they were being questioned when Quill demanded that she denounce them, Emerson in particular.
Then the professors were brought forward, one at a time, to recount the experience of being questioned by Quill. Each one stated that he had been led to believe that others had confessed and implicated them, and that their only hope was to confess and repent. All denied being the one who confessed.
Then John turned to Quill.
“Aren't you going to question him first?” Quill said, pointing to Alvin.
“Have you forgotten whose hearing this is?” asked John.
“I just want to hear whether he denies the witchcraft charges!”
“You'll find that out in the trial,” said John, “since the accused can be called to give testimony against themselves in witch trials.”
“You're favoring him,” said Quill.
“You're testing my patience,” said John. “Put your hand on the Bible and take your oath.”
Quill complied, and the questioning began. Quill answered scornfully, denying that he had deceived anyone. “She's the one who talked of Satan. I had to stop my ears, she spoke of him so lovingly. She wanted carnal knowledge of him. She even told me that Satan had instructed her to lie and say I made up the story, but I was not afraid because I knew that in lawful courts, my testimony would have greater trust than hers.”
John listened to Quill calmly enough, as his testimony grew nastier and nastier. “These professors behave exactly as one would expect a conclave of wizards to behave,” said Quill. “I wouldn't have questioned them if the girl hadn't denounced them. She thought better of it at once, of course, and tried to deny it, but I knew what she had told me, and it was enough. They deny that they confessed, but several of them did, as my depositions to the court affirm.”
John picked up a pile of affidavits from the bench. “I do have those depositions and I've read them all.”
“So you know the truth, and this whole hearing is a travesty.”
“If it is,” said John, “it follows the script you wrote.”
“I wrote no script for this,” said Quill. “I expected this court to function like a proper witch trial.”
“But Mr. Quill, this is not a witch trial. This is a hearing on a motion. You seem unable to grasp that. This proceeding has been entirely proper. And I am ready now with my ruling on the motion.”
“But you haven't questioned Alvin Smith!”
“All right,” said John. “Mr. Smith, how are you today?”
“Tired of being in chains, Your Honor,” said Alvin, “but otherwise in good condition.”
“You ever have any dealings with Satan?”
“I'm not sure who you're referring to,” said Alvin.
John was surprised. He was expecting a simple 'no.' “Satan,” he said. “The enemy of God.”
“Why, if Satan means an enemy of God, I've had dealings with a fair number in my time, including Mr. Quill here.”
“Your Honor!” cried Quill.
“Sit down, Mr. Quill,” said John. “Mr. Smith, you seem to be deliberately misunderstanding my question. Don't try my patience, please. Satan, as generally conceived, is a supernatural being. You've been accused of getting powers from him and obeying his commands. Did you get any hidden powers from Satan, or obey him?”
“No sir,” said Alvin.
“More to the point,” said John, “did you ever tell Purity Orphan that you had dealings with Satan, or could she ever have seen you in the presence of Satan?”
“If you mean the bright red fellow with the claws of a bear and cloven hooves and horns on his head,” said Alvin, “I've never seen him or heard from him. He's never even sent me a note. I have smelled him, but only when I was alone with Quill.”
John shook his head. “I don't think you're taking this proceeding seriously.”
“No sir,” said Alvin, “I admit that I am not.”
“And why is that? Don't you understand that your life may hinge upon the outcome of this hearing?”
“It doesn't,” said Alvin.
Cooper tried to shush him.
“And why do you believe that you're safe, regardless of the outcome of this hearing?”
Alvin rose to his feet and pulled the manacles off his wrists as easily as he might have pulled off mittens. He shook his feet and the ankle braces clanked on the floor. “Because I got the knack I was born with. As far as I know, it's God, not Satan, who creates us, and so whatever knack I have came from God. I try to use it kindly and decently. One thing I never do is try to use my knack to force someone else to do something against their will. But you and my lawyer here, you seem determined to force the people of New England to get rid of their witchery laws whether they want to or not. Mr. Quill is a lying snake, but you don't strike down all the laws just to catch a few liars.”
Verily Cooper rested his head on the desk. John, who was trembling at the sight of such obvious supernatural powers, could see that to Verily Cooper this was old news.
Alvin was still talking. “I was willing to stick it out and see how you two twisted up the laws without actually breaking too many of them, but my wife needs me right now, and I'm not wasting another minute here. When I got time I'll come back and you and I can talk this out, Your Honor, because I think you're an honorable man. But for the present, I've got somewhere else to be.”
Alvin started toward the door at the back of the court.
Quill jumped to his feet and tried to stop him. His hands slid off Alvin as if he'd been greased. “Stop him!” Quill cried. “Don't let him go!”
“Bailiff,” said John. “Mr. Smith seems to be escaping.”
Alvin turned around and faced the judge. “Your Honor, I thought this wasn't my trial. I thought this was a hearing on a motion. You don't need me here.”
Verily stood up. “Alvin, what about Purity?”
“She ain't going to hang,” said Alvin. “By the time you're through, she'll probably be Queen of England.”
“Wait just a minute, Alvin,” Verily said. He turned to face John Adams. “Your Honor, I ask the court to release my client on his own recognizance, with his promise to appear in court in the morning.”
John understood what he was asking, and decided to grant it. The escape would be turned into a legal release. “The defendant's presence not being necessary at this hearing, and with proof positive that the defendant's compliance with his imprisonment up to this point has been entirely voluntary, the court deems him worthy of our trust. Released on his own recognizance, to appear in court at ten in the morning tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” said Alvin.
“An outrage!” cried Quill.
“Sit down, Mr. Quill,” said John Adams. “I'm ready to rule on the motion.”
Quill slowly sat down as the door closed behind Alvin Smith.
“Your Honor,” said Verily Cooper. “I must apologize for my client's behavior.”
“Sit down, Mr. Cooper,” said John. “I have my rulings. Mr. Smith's point was well taken. It is not the place of the court to destroy the law in order to achieve justice. Therefore both motions are denied.”
Quill flung his arms out wide. “Praise God!”
“Not so fast, Mr. Quill,” said John. “This hearing is not over.”
“But you've ruled.”
“During the process of this hearing, I have heard substantial evidence of misconduct by those officers called interrogators or witchers. The appointment of these witchers is in the hands of the ecclesiastical authorities, who have
delegated that responsibility to an examining board of experts on witchery, who are responsible for making sure that witchers are fully trained. However, the actual license to interrogate and serve as an officer of the court is issued by the governor upon a swearing-in by a judge. This license is required for an interrogator to have standing in a civil court and call a witch trial. The licenses of all witchers fall under the law that governs the licensing of all government officials not specified in any particular act. Under that law, your license can be suspended upon a finding by a judicial officer of the level of magistrate or higher that you have used your office against the interests of the people of the commonwealth. I so find. Mr. Quill, I hereby declare your license and the license of all other interrogators in the commonwealth of Massachusetts and in the judicial circuit of New England to be suspended.”
“But you can't– you–”
“Furthermore, I declare all interrogations made under these licenses to be suspended as well. I order that no judicial proceeding may continue until and unless hearings are held that substantiate the evidence under the normal rules of evidence in the civil courts, which are the courts that have jurisdiction over licensing. If you or any other witchcraft interrogator cannot demonstrate that the evidence you have given in court meets the standard of evidence in the civil courts, the suspension of your license may not be lifted. And as long as your license is suspended, no officer of the law in New England is permitted to arrest, imprison, confine, arraign, or try any person on the orders of an interrogator; and since the law requires that a witcher be the prosecutor at any witch trial in New England, I order that no witch trial may be held in New England until and unless an interrogator in possession of a valid license is available to prosecute.”
The words flowed out of John like water from a spring. He felt as though he were singing. Alvin Smith's point had been well taken. But in the moment when he realized that, for honor's sake, he would have to deny Cooper's clever motions, a new path opened up in his mind and he saw how he could put a stop to witch trials, not by using judicial precedent to destroy the law, but by using another law to trump it.
“I declare this hearing adjourned.” He banged the gavel. Then he banged it again. “I call the court to order in the matter of the commonwealth versus Alvin Smith and Purity Orphan. This being a witch trial, we may not proceed without the presence of an interrogator with a valid license. Is there an interrogator with such a license in the courtroom?”
John looked at Quill cheerfully. “You, sir, seem to be sitting at the prosecutor's table. Have you such a license?”
Quill saw the handwriting on the wall. “No, Your Honor.”
“Well,” said John. “As there seem to be no other candidates for the role of interrogator present, I have no choice but to find that this trial is improper and illegal. I dismiss the charges. The defendants are free to go. Mr. Smith is not obligated to return to court. Court is adjourned.”
Quill rose shakily to his feet. “If you think you can get away with this, you're wrong, sir!”
John ignored him and walked away from the bench.
Quill shouted after him. “We'll get new licenses! See if we don't!”
But John Adams knew something that Quill had forgotten. Licenses were issued only on the authority of the governor. And John was pretty sure that Quincy would not issue any licenses until the Assembly of Massachusetts had plenty of time to write a new witch law that eliminated the office of interrogator and required the normal rules of evidence to hold sway, including the right of the defendant not to be compelled to testify. The churches had the right, of course, to hold witch trials any time they wanted, but the maximum penalty in the ecclesiastical courts was excommunication from the congregation. And they used that power against people who didn't attend church often enough.
When the door of the robing room had closed behind him, John couldn't help it. He danced a little jig all around the room, singing a childish ditty as he did.
Then he remembered what he had seen Alvin Smith do, and his mood sobered at once.
He sat in the plush chair and tried to understand what he had seen. John had never believed in knacks that defied natural law, but now he realized that he had come to believe this, not because they didn't exist, but because no one would dare to use such powers in New England, where you could hang for it. The witch laws were wrong, not because such powers were wholly imaginary, but because they didn't necessarily come from Satan. Or did they? Had he crippled the witchcraft laws at the very moment when he had proof that they were necessary?
No. Cooper might not have prevailed with his motions, but his point was well taken. It was only the falsified testimony of the witchers that showed any involvement of Satan with knacks. Without the witchers, knacks were just inborn talents. That some of them were extraordinary did not mean that the possessor of such a knack was either evil or good. Nor was there any evidence that the witch laws had ever been used against people whose hidden powers were truly dangerous. It was obvious that if Alvin Smith had not wished to be confined, no jail could have held him. Therefore only those whose knacks were relatively mild and harmless could ever have been convicted and hanged. It was a law that did nothing it was intended to do. It protected no one and harmed many. It would be good to be rid of it.
In the meantime, though, there was Alvin Smith. What a strange young man! To walk away from his own trial because he thought his lawyer was going to get him off by hurting society at large– was he really that altruistic? Did the good of the people mean more to him than his own good name? For that matter, why had he stayed? John knew without asking. Just as Hezekiah had begged him not to let any harm come to Purity, so also had Alvin stayed for the trial specifically in order to link Purity's fate to his own. But no matter what happened, Purity wasn't going to hang. Alvin had the power to see to that.
But that wasn't enough for Verily Cooper. Saving his friend, saving this girl, that wasn't enough. He had to save everybody. John understood the impulse. He had it himself. He had been thwarted in it, and it hurt him to fail. Not like it hurt Hezekiah Study, of course. But at long last, Cooper had brought them both a chance to redeem their past failures. It was a good gift. Cooper might be too clever for his own good, but he used it in a good cause, which was more than could be said for many clever men.
Knacks. Alvin Smith could shed iron like melting butter. What is my knack? Do I have one? Perhaps my knack is just to hold on my course whether it seems to be taking me anywhere or not. Stubbornness. That could be a gift of God, couldn't it? If so, I daresay I've been blessed with far more than my share. And when God judges me someday, he'll have to admit I didn't bury my talent. I shared it with everyone around me, much to their consternation.
John Adams had a good laugh about that, all by himself.
Chapter 14 – Revolt
No sooner was Alvin out of the courtroom than he began to run, long loping strides that would carry him to the river. No greensong helped him at first, for the town was too built up. Yet he was scarcely wearied when he reached the place where Arthur, Mike, and Jean-Jacques were just awakening from their late-afternoon naps. For a moment they wanted to show him what Jean-Jacques had painted, but Alvin had no time for that.
“I was in court and I couldn't pay attention to half that folderol, and my mind wandered to Margaret and there she was, her heart beating so fast, I knew something was wrong. She was spelling big letters in midair. Help. And I looked around her and there was Calvin lying on the floor of an attic in Camelot, and he's in a bad way.”
Jean-Jacques was all sympathy. “You must feel so helpless, to be so far away.”
Mike Fink hooted with laughter. “Alvin ain't all that helpless wherever he is.”
“It means we're going to part company with you, Jean-Jacques,” Alvin said. “Or rather, some of us are. Arthur, you're coming with me.”
Arthur, who had been on tenterhooks waiting to hear the plan, now grinned and relaxed.
“Mike, I'd
appreciate it if you'd go on into town and meet Very. He'll have that Purity girl with him, I reckon, or I'll be surprised if he don't. So if you'd tell him that he and you and her and Jean-Jacques here, you should all head for the border of New Amsterdam. I figure we can join up in Philadelphia when I'm done with whatever it is Margaret wants me to do.”
“Where?” asked Mike. “Philadelphia's a big place.”
“Mistress Louder's rooming house, of course.”
“What if she don't got room?”
“Then leave word with her where you'll be. But she'll have room.” Alvin turned again to Jean-Jacques. “It's been a pleasure, and I'm proud to know a man with such a knack for painting, but I'm taking Arthur and we got nobody to hold the birds still for you now.”
“So what I do now?” said Jean-Jacques. “I make you angry when I kill the bird and stuff it. My career is over if I do not kill the bird.”
Alvin looked at Arthur Stuart. “I got to tell you, Arthur, I got no problem with him killing a bird now and then for the sake of folks studying his paintings.”
Arthur stood there looking down at the ground.
“Arthur, it ain't like I got a lot of time here,” said Alvin.
Arthur looked up at Jean-Jacques, then at Alvin. “I just got to know one thing. Does a bird have a soul?”
«Am I a, how you say, th‚ologien?»
“I just– if a bird dies, when it dies, when you kill it, what happens to it? Is it completely dead? Or is there some part of it that…”
Arthur stood there with tears beading up on his cheeks. Alvin reached out to hug him, but Arthur pulled away. “I ain't asking for a hug, dammit, I'm asking for an answer!”
“I don't know about that,” said Alvin. “What I see is like a little fire inside every living thing. Humans got a big bright one, most of them anyway, but there's fire like that in every animal. The plants, too, only the fire is spread out all through the plant, not just in one place like it is with the animals. Margaret sees something like that, she says, only she don't catch much more than a glimpse of what's in the animals, like the shadow of a fire, if you get my drift. Now is that heartfire a soul? I don't know. And what happens to it after a body dies? I don't know that either. I know it ain't in the body anymore. But I know sometimes the heartfire can leave the body. Happens when I'm doodlebugging, part of it goes out of me. Does that mean that when the body's dead the whole thing can go? I don't know, Arthur. You're asking me what I can't tell you.”
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