Orson Card - Heartfire

"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.

"Not that I don't approve of Verily falling in love," said Alvin, "and my wife tells me you're a good girl, loyal and smart and patient and all the other virtues that a wife of Mr. Cooper has to have."

"I didn't know that I had met your wife, sir," said Purity.

"You haven't," said Alvin. "Don't you remember what Arthur told you about her?"

"That she was a candle."

"Torch," said Alvin.

"We don't hear much about knackery here in New England. Except as it pertains to disposing of the bodies of downer animals."

Verily laughed aloud. "I told you she had a sense of humor, Al."

She allowed herself a small smile.