Heartfire: The Tales of Alvin Maker, Volume V

by Orson Scott Card

  It started right. Quill read the charge. It was the normal collection of allegations of dealings with Satan, and as it became clear it was more a peroration than a simple reading of charges, John gaveled him down. “I think we’ve heard all the charges and you’ve moved on to opening arguments, Mr. Quill.”

  “For a full understanding of the charges, Your Honor, I—”

  “I have a full understanding of the charge, as does the defendant,” said John. “We’ll hear your elaboration of the particulars at a later time, I’m sure. How does the defendant answer to the charges?”

  Verily Cooper rose from his chair, his movement smooth, a perfect gentleman. By contrast, the lanky smith seemed to unfold himself, to come out of the chair like a turtle out of its shell. His chains clanked noisily.

  “Alvin Smith, how do you plead?” asked John.

  “Not guilty, Your Honor.”

  Alvin sat back down, and John started to announce the schedule for tomorrow, when the trial would begin. Then he noticed that Cooper was still standing.

  “What is it, Mr. Cooper?”

  “I believe it is customary to hear motions.”

  “Peremptory motions to dismiss are never granted in witch trials,” John reminded him.

  Cooper just stood there, waiting.

  “All right, let’s have your motion.”

  Cooper approached the bench with several petitions written out in an elegant hand.

  “What is all this?” demanded Quill.

  “It seems,” said John, “that the defendant has some interesting requests. All right, Mr. Cooper. Relieve Mr. Quill’s curiosity and read out your motions.”

  “First, the defense requests that since the prosecution intends to prosecute a witness named in the records of the parish as Purity Orphan on the same evidence as my client, the trials be joined.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” said Quill. “Purity is our prime witness and the defense knows it.”

  John was amused by Cooper’s maneuver, and he enjoyed seeing Quill’s outrage. “Are you saying, Mr. Quill, that you are not planning to try Mistress Purity on the basis of the same evidence?”

  “I’m saying it’s irrelevant to this trial.”

  “I believe that Mistress Purity should have the rights of a defendant in this courtroom,” said Cooper, “since the evidence she gives here should not then be able to be turned against her in her own trial.”

  Before Quill could answer, John asked him sharply, “Mr. Quill, I’m inclined to grant this motion, unless you are prepared to grant an irrevocable dismissal of all charges against Mistress Purity that might arise from her testimony in this trial.”

  Quill was speechless, but only for a moment. It was easy to guess what he was thinking during his hesitation: Was it more important to keep the trials separate, or to be able to try Purity at all? “I have no intention of dismissing on a confessed witch.”

  John banged his gavel. “Motion granted. Is Mistress Purity in the court?”

  A timid, weary-looking young woman rose from her place behind the prosecutor’s bench.

  “Mistress Purity,” said John, “do you consent to a joint trial? And, if you do, do you consent to having Mr. Verily Cooper represent you and Alvin Smith together?”

  Quill objected. “Her interests are different from those of Alvin Smith!”

  “No, they’re not,” said Purity. Her voice was surprisingly bold. “I consent to both, sir.”

  “Take your place at the defense table,” said John.

  They waited while she seated herself on the other side of Verily Cooper. John gave them a moment or two to whisper together. It was Quill who broke the silence. “Your Honor, I feel I must protest this irregular procedure.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that you feel that way. Let me know if the feeling becomes irresistible.”

  Quill frowned. “Very well, Your Honor, I do protest.”

  “Protest noted. Note also, however, that the court takes exception to the practice of deceiving a witness into testifying in someone else’s trial, only to find his own testimony used against him in his own trial. I believe this is standard in witch trials.”

  “It is a practice justified by the difficulty of obtaining evidence of the doings of Satan.”

  “Yes,” said John. “That well-known difficulty. So much depends upon it, don’t you think? Next motion, Mr. Cooper.”

  “I move that because Mr. Quill has openly and publicly violated the laws against extracting testimony under torture, all evidence obtained from interrogation of either of my clients during and after that torture be barred from these proceedings.”

  Quill bounded to his feet. “No physical pain was inflicted on either defendant, Your Honor! Nor was there threat of such pain! The law was strictly adhered to!”

  Quill was right, John knew, according to more than a century of precedents since the anti-torture law was adopted after the Salem debacle. The witchers all made sure they didn’t cross the line.

  “Your Honor,” said Cooper, “I submit that the practice of running an accused person until a state of utter exhaustion is reached is, in fact, torture, and that it is well known to be such and falls under the same strictures as the forms of torture specifically banned by the statute.”

  “The statute says what it says!” retorted Quill.

  “Watch your temper, Mr. Quill,” said John. “Mr. Cooper, the language of the statute is clear.”

  Cooper then read off a string of citations from contract law dealing with attempts to skirt the letter of a contract by devising practices that were not specifically banned but that clearly defied the fair intent of the contract. “The principle is that when a practice is engaged in solely in order to circumvent a legal obligation, the practice is deemed to be a violation.”

  “That is contract law,” said Quill. “It has no bearing.”

  “On the contrary,” said Cooper. “The anti-torture law is a contract between the government and the people, guaranteeing the innocent that they will not be forced by torture into giving false testimony against themselves or others. It is the common practice of witchers to use methods of torture invented after the writing of the law and therefore not enumerated in it, but having all the same pernicious effects as the prohibited practice. In other words, the common practice of running a witness in a witch trial is designed to have precisely the same effect as the tortures specifically prohibited: to extract testimony of witchcraft regardless of whether such testimony is supported by other evidence.”

  Quill ranted for quite a while after that, and John let him have his say, while the court reporter scribbled furiously. Nothing that Quill was saying would make the slightest difference. John knew that in terms of truth and righteousness, Cooper’s position was true and righteous. John also knew that the legal issue was nowhere near as clear. To drag precedents from contract law into witchery law, which was a branch of ecclesiastical law, would expose John to charges that he had wilfully sown confusion, for where would such a practice stop? All the legal traditions would be hopelessly commingled, and then who could possibly learn enough law to practice in any court? It would be an outrageously radical step. Not that John worried about being criticized or censured. He was old, and if people chose not to follow his precedent, so be it. No, the real question was whether it was right to risk damaging the entire system of law in order to effect a righteous outcome in witchery cases.

  When Quill wound down, John hadn’t yet made up his mind. “The court will take this motion under advisement and announce a decision at a later point, if it isn’t mooted by one of the other motions.”

  Cooper was clearly disappointed; Quill was not much relieved. “Your Honor, even to consider this motion is—”

  John gaveled him to silence. “Next motion, Mr. Cooper.

  Cooper arose and began a string of citations of obscure cases in English courts. John, having the advantage of the written motion in front of him, enjoyed watching Quill come to realize what Cooper was set
ting up. “Your Honor,” Quill finally said, interrupting Cooper. “Is counsel for the defense seriously suggesting that the interrogator be barred from giving testimony?”

  “Let’s hear him out and see,” said John.

  “Therefore, Your Honor,” said Cooper, “the interrogators in witch trials, being without exception professionals whose employment depends, not on finding truth, but on obtaining guilty verdicts, are interested parties in the action. There is no record of a witcher in the last hundred years ever finding, upon interrogation, that a person charged with witchcraft was not guilty. Furthermore, there is a consistent pattern of witchers expanding upon testimony; there are only two cases in which charges of Satanic involvement were present in the original testimony, and both those cases were found to be deliberate falsifications. The pattern is clear: All legitimate witch trials begin with no evidence of anything beyond the use of a knack. Testimony concerning Satan only shows up when the interrogator arrives, and then comes into court in only two ways: through the interrogator’s own testimony contradicting a witness or defendant who denies that Satan was involved, or through testimony from witnesses who confess to Satanic involvement as part of a confession that is taken as repentance, following which charges are dismissed. In short, your Honor, the historical record is clear. Evidence of Satanic involvement in all witch trials in New England is produced by the witchers themselves and those who, in fear of death, bend to their will and produce the only kind of confession that the witchers will accept.”

  “He’s asking this court to deny the very basis of witchcraft law!” cried Quill. “He’s asking this court to contradict the clear intent of Parliament and the Massachusetts assembly!”

  John almost laughed aloud. Cooper was audacious in the extreme. He wasn’t just trying to get this case thrown out without a trial, he was demanding that John rule in such a way as to make it almost impossible to hold a witch trial ever again. If, that is, John’s decision was accepted as a valid precedent.

  It came down to this thought: He’s giving me a chance to do something brilliant in the last years of my life.

  “Your charge is of serious malfeasance on the part of Mr. Quill,” said John. “If I were to sustain this motion, I would have no choice but to revoke Mr. Quill’s license and institute charges of perjury against him, just to start with.”

  “I have acted according to the best traditions of my profession!” cried Quill. “This is an outrage!”

  “Nevertheless,” said John, “these charges are of so grave a nature as to call into question the entire proceeding against Mr. Smith and Mistress Purity. For I have a feeling that if I were to grant either of these two motions, your next motion would be for a strict reading of the witchcraft laws.”

  “It would, Your Honor,” said Cooper.

  “Strict reading is what I’m asking for!” cried Quill.

  “You’re asking for a strict reading of the anti-torture law,” said John. “The courts have long been aware that a strict reading of the witchcraft law requires that for a conviction there must be evidence not only of the use of hidden powers, but also that such powers originate from the influence and power of Satan.”

  “That is not a requirement, it is a stipulation!” Quill shouted.

  “Do not shout at me, Mr. Quill,” said John. “Justice may be blind, but she is not deaf.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “No matter how it exercises your temper, Mr. Quill, it is long established that a strict reading of the traditional text of the witchcraft laws leads to the conclusion that the involvement of Satan is not stipulated but rather must be proved. That the possession of an extraordinary ability is not prima facie evidence of Satanic involvement, and that this specifically arises from the tradition of ecclesiastical law, which must always leave room for the possibility of a miracle enacted by faith in Jesus Christ and the intervention of heaven.”

  “Is it the defense’s theory that these two witches have been working miracles by the power of Christ?” Quill said it as if it were the most absurd thing ever heard. But then the words hung in the air, unanswered, undisputed, and the effect was the opposite of what Quill intended. John knew that one of the main points taken from the courtroom today would be the possibility that people with the power of God in them might be charged with witchcraft if witchers had their way.

  Good work, Mr. Cooper.

  “It is the decision of this court that the motions raised by the defense must be decided before the trial can proceed. Therefore, I order the bailiff to send the jury home and to clear the courtroom, lest the discussion of evidence that is about to take place influence the eventual trial. We reconvene at noon. I recommend that everyone take an early dinner, because I intend to resolve these matters before we adjourn this evening.”

  Bang with the gavel, and John got up from the bench and almost danced back to the robing room. Who would have thought that a nasty little witch trial would suddenly take on such proportions? John had dismissed charges based on faultiness of evidence in both the witch trials he had presided over before, but in those cases it was because of contradiction within a witness’s testimony, and it created no precedent. Cooper had created a far more potent situation, in which granting either of his evidentiary motions could destroy the witch laws, making them unenforceable. And given the political climate in New England, there was little chance of a legislature reinstating them, not without strict safeguards that would remove all the little tricks from the witchers’ arsenal. What they did in England, of course, might be quite different. But if John knew his son Quincy, the Massachusetts assembly would act immediately and before Parliament even discussed the issue, the law in New England would be established. Parliament would then be in the awkward position of having to repudiate an ecclesiastical law set forth in New England, the place where Christian life was regarded as being most pure. There was a good chance that it could all be ended, right here, today.

  John sat in the plush chair, almost lost in the cushions, for it had been designed for larger men than he. He closed his eyes and smiled. God had a role for him to play, after all.

  Purity had no idea what Verily Cooper’s plan was. All she knew was that Quill hated it, and if Quill hated it, she had to like it. Besides, she could see plainly that Verily Cooper had no ill intent toward her, nor Alvin, though he was in chains because of her. Still, it wasn’t easy for her to sit beside these men that she had accused. If she had known when she made her charges where they would lead... She tried to explain this to them.

  “We know that,” said Verily Cooper. “Don’t think twice about it.”

  “Where’s the food?” said Alvin. “We only got a little while to eat.”

  “I don’t know why you’re helping me,” said Purity.

  “He’s not,” said Alvin. “He’s trying to change the world.”

  “Alvin has trouble with authority,” said Verily. “He doesn’t like it when somebody else is in charge.”

  “I want somebody to be in charge of getting me something to eat. This table is starting to look mighty tasty.”

  At that point the bailiff approached and asked them if they wanted to eat down in the jail, separately, or right there at the defense table, with a picnic lunch donated by several of the ladies of Cambridge, including his own wife.

  “What extraordinary kindness,” said Verily.

  The bailiff grinned. “My wife was on the commons yesterday. She thinks you’re Galahad. Or Percival.”

  “Will you thank her for me? For all of us?”

  Soon the table was spread with bread, cheese, and summer fruit, and Alvin set to eating like a teenager. Purity had a much harder time working up an appetite, though once she had the taste of pears and cheese in her mouth, she found she was hungrier than she had thought.

  “I don’t know,” said Purity, “why you should ever forgive me.”

  “Oh, we forgive you,” said Alvin. “We more than forgive you. Verily, here, he’s downright obsessed with you
.”

  Verily only smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Alvin’s feeling out of sorts,” he said. “He doesn’t like jails.”

  “Have you been in jail before?” asked Purity.

  “He was acquitted of all charges,” said Verily. “Proving that I’m a clever lawyer.”

  “Proving I was innocent,” said Alvin. “An advantage I don’t have this time.”

  Only now did Verily show annoyance. “If you think you’re guilty, why did you plead innocent?” he said sharply.

  “I’m not guilty of witchcraft,” said Alvin. “Under a ‘strict reading’ or whatever. But the things Mistress Purity said about me, well, you and I both know they’re true.” As if to demonstrate it, he peeled the manacle from his right hand like it was made of clay.

  Purity gasped. She had never seen such power. Even hearing Arthur Stuart’s account on the riverbank, she had not realized how effortlessly Alvin worked his will with iron. No incantations, no sign of strain.

  “Mistress Purity is startled,” said Verily.

  “What do you think?” said Alvin. “Should I spread some iron on this bread and eat it?”

  “Don’t be a show-off,” said Verily.

  Alvin leaned back in his chair and ate a thick slab of bread and cheese—a posture he could not have assumed while manacled. His mouth full, he talked anyway. “I reckon you needed to remember, Mistress Purity, that what you said about me was true. Don’t you go blaming yourself for telling the truth.”

  Purity found herself on the verge of tears. “The whole world’s awry,” she said.

  “True,” said Alvin, “but in different ways in different places. Which is what makes traveling worthwhile.”

  “I know you only mean good for me, both of you. Though you’re annoyed with each other. I don’t know why.”

  “Verily Cooper thinks he’s in love with you,” said Alvin.

  Purity didn’t know what to say to that. Nor did Verily, who was blushing as he ate a slice of pear. He didn’t contradict Alvin, though.