Ken Follett - World Without End

Today, as then, there was a big crowd of townspeople and visitors in the cathedral, hoping for drama: accusations, counter-accusations, quarrels, hysterics, curses, and the spectacle of a woman being flogged through the streets and then hanged at Gallows Cross. Friar Murdo was present. He always showed up for sensational trials. They provided an opportunity for him to do what he did best, whip up hysteria in a congregation.

While they were waiting for the clergy, Caris’s mind wandered. Tomorrow, in this church, she would marry Merthin. Betty Baxter and her four daughters were already busy making the bread and pastry for the feast. Tomorrow night, Caris and Merthin would sleep together in his house on Leper Island.

She had stopped worrying about the marriage. She had made her decision and she would take the consequences. In truth she felt very happy. Sometimes she wondered how she could have been so scared. Merthin could not make anyone his slave – it was not in his nature. He was even kind to his boy labourer Jimmie.

Most of all she loved their sexual intimacy. It was the best thing that had ever happened to her. What she looked forward to most was having a home and a bed of their own, and being able to make love whenever they wanted to, on going to bed or on waking up, in the middle of the night or even the middle of the day.

At last the monks and nuns came in, led by Bishop Richard with his assistant, Archdeacon Lloyd. When they had taken their seats, Prior Godwyn stood up and said: “We are here today to try the charge of heresy against Caris, daughter of Edmund Wooler.”

The crowd gasped.

Merthin shouted: “No!”

Everyone turned to look at Caris. She felt sick with fear. She had had no suspicion of this. It hit her like a punch in the dark. Bewildered, she said: “Why?” No one answered her.

She remembered her father warning her that Godwyn would have an extreme reaction to the threat of a borough charter. “You know how ruthless he is, even over small disputes,” Edmund had said. “Something like this will lead to total war.” Caris shuddered now to remember her reply: “So be it – total war.”

Even so, Godwyn’s chance of success would have been slender indeed if her father had been in good health. Edmund would have fought Godwyn to a standstill, and probably destroyed him. But Caris alone was a different matter. She did not have her father’s power, authority or popular support – not yet. Without him, she had become vulnerable.

She noticed her Aunt Petranilla in the crowd. She was one of the few people not looking at Caris. How could she stand there in silence? Of course she supported her son, Godwyn, in general – but surely she would try to stop him condemning Caris to death? She had once said she wanted to be like a mother to Caris. Would she remember that? Somehow, Caris felt she would not. Her devotion to her son was too great. That was why she could not meet Caris’s eye. She had already made up her mind not to stand in Godwyn’s way.

Philemon stood up. “My lord bishop,” he said, formally addressing the judge. But he immediately turned to the crowd. “As everyone knows, the woman Mattie Wise has fled, too frightened and guilty to be tried. Caris has been a regular visitor to Mattie’s house for some years. Only days ago she defended the woman, in front of witnesses, here in the cathedral.”

So that was why Philemon had questioned her about Mattie, Caris realized. She caught Merthin’s eye. He had been worried because he could not figure out what Philemon was up to. He had been right to worry. Now they knew.

At the same time, part of her mind marvelled at the transformation of Philemon. That awkward, unhappy boy was now a confident, arrogant man, standing in front of the bishop, the prior and the townspeople, as full of spite as a snake about to strike.

Philemon said: “She offered to swear on oath that Mattie is no witch. Why would she do that – unless to cover her own guilt?”

Merthin shouted out: “Because she’s innocent, and so is Mattie, you mendacious hypocrite!”

He might have been put in the stocks for that, but others were shouting at the same time, and his insult passed without comment.

Philemon went on: “Recently, Caris has miraculously dyed wool the exact shade of Italian scarlet, something Kingsbridge dyers have never been able to do. How has this been achieved? By a magic spell!”

Caris heard the rumble of Mark Webber’s bass voice: “This is a lie!”

“She could not do this by daylight, of course. She lit a fire in her back yard at night, as was seen by people living nearby.”

Philemon had been assiduous, Caris noted with foreboding. He had interviewed her neighbours.

“And she chanted strange rhymes. Why?” Caris had sung to herself out of boredom, as she boiled up dyes and dipped the cloth, but Philemon had the ability to turn innocent trivia into evidence of evil. He dropped his voice to a thrilling stage whisper and said: “Because she was calling for the secret aid of the Prince of Darkness -” he raised his voice to a shout – “Lucifer!”

The crowd groaned with dread.

“That cloth is Satan’s scarlet!”

Caris looked at Merthin. He was aghast. “The fools are starting to believe him!” he said.

Caris’s courage began to return. “Don’t despair,” she said. “I haven’t had my say yet.”

He took her hand.

“This is not the only spell she has used,” Philemon continued in a more normal voice. “Mattie Wise also made love potions.” He looked accusingly around the crowd. “There may even be wicked girls in this church now who have made use of Mattie’s powers to bewitch a man.”

Including your own sister, Caris thought. Did Philemon know about that?

He said: “This novice nun will testify.”

Elizabeth Clerk stood up. She spoke in a quiet voice, eyes lowered, the picture of nun-like modesty. “I say this on my oath as I hope to be saved,” she began. “I was betrothed to Merthin Builder.”

Merthin called out: “Liar!”

“We were in love and very happy,” Elizabeth went on. “Suddenly he changed. He seemed like a stranger to me. He became cold.”

Philemon asked her: “Did you notice anything else unusual, sister?”

“Yes, brother. I saw him hold his knife in his left hand.”

The crowd gasped. This was an acknowledged sign of bewitchment – although, as Caris knew, Merthin was ambidextrous.

Elizabeth said: “Then he announced he was going to marry Caris.”

It was amazing, Caris thought, how the truth could be just a little skewed so that it sounded sinister. She knew what had really happened. Merthin and Elizabeth had been friends until Elizabeth made it clear she wanted to be more than a friend, at which point he had told her that he did not share her feelings, and they had parted. But a satanic spell made a much better story.

Elizabeth might have convinced herself that she was telling the truth. But Philemon knew this was a lie. And Philemon was Godwyn’s tool. How could Godwyn reconcile his conscience with this level of wickedness? Was he telling himself that anything was justified in the service of the priory?

Elizabeth finished: “I can never love another man. That is why I have decided to give my life to God.” She sat down.

It was powerful evidence, Caris realized, and her dismay darkened like a winter sky. The fact that Elizabeth had become a nun lent conviction to her testimony. She was operating a kind of sentimental blackmail: How can you disbelieve me when I have made such a sacrifice?

The townspeople were quieter now. This was not the hilarious spectacle of a mad old woman being condemned. They were watching a battle for the life of a fellow citizen.

Philemon said: “Most damning of all, my lord bishop, is the final witness, a close member of the accused woman’s own family: her brother-in-law, Elfric Builder.”