Heartfire

Chapter 13 -- Judgment Day

John Adams didn't even bother to seat himself comfortably on the bench. It was supposed to be routine. Quill would read out the charge. The young lawyer for the defense would plead his client guilty or not. They'd be back out the door in a few minutes.

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 setting 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.

"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.

"Let's just say that Margaret thinks you're worth the trouble of my staying in jail a couple of nights," said Alvin.

"You sustained me while we were running yesterday, didn't you?"

Alvin shrugged. "Who knows how tough you are? At some point, everybody gives in and says what the questioner wants to hear."

"I'd like to think I could withstand torture as well as the next person," said Purity.

"That's my point," said Alvin. "Nobody can withstand it, if the questioner knows what he's doing. The body betrays us. Most people never find that out because they're never asked a question that matters. And those that are, most give the answer the questioner wants without a lick of torture. It's only the strong ones, the most stubborn ones as gets tortured."

"Mr. Cooper," said Purity, "I hope you don't think I'm giving any stock to Mr. Smith's jests about your feelings toward me."

Verily smiled at her. "You don't know me, so I can hardly expect you to welcome such an idea."

"On the contrary," said Purity, "I know you very well. I saw you in court today, and on the commons, too. I know the kind of man you are."

"You don't know he farts in his sleep," said Alvin.

Purity looked at him, appalled. "Everyone does," she answered, "but most people find no need to mention it during meals."

Alvin grinned at her. "Just didn't want this to turn into a love feast. Not while my lawyer here is trying to burn down the barn to kill the fleas."

Verily's face darkened. "It's not 'fleas' when innocent people die, and others become perjurers out of fear."

"How much justice will be done when judges go striking down laws whenever some lawyer gives them half an excuse?"

"That's theory," said Verily. "When the practice of the law leads to injustice, then the law must change."

"That's what Parliament is for," said Alvin. "And the assembly."

"What politician would dare announce that he was in favor of witchcraft?"

The argument might have gone on, but at that moment the door of the courtroom opened and Hezekiah Study came in. He gave no greeting, but stalked down the aisle straight to a chair directly behind the defense table. He spoke only to Verily Cooper.

"Don't do it," said Hezekiah Study.

"Don't do what?"

"Don't take on the witchers," he said. "Try the case. Or better yet, if your client really has the knack he's charged with, shed the chains and begone with you."

Only then did Hezekiah notice the manacle lying warped and deformed in Alvin's lap. Alvin grinned at him and mashed the last hunk of bread and cheese into his mouth all at once.

"Pardon me, sir, but who are you?" asked Verily Cooper.

"This is Reverend Study," said Purity. "He advised me not to charge Alvin with witchcraft. I wish I'd listened to him then."

"You'll wish you had listened to me now," said Hezekiah.

"The law is on my side," said Verily.

"No, it isn't," said Hezekiah. "Nothing is on your side."

"Sir, I know my case, and I know the law."

"So did I," said Hezekiah. "I tried the same strategy."

Now Verily was interested. "You're a lawyer, sir?"

"I was a lawyer. I gave it up and became a minister."

"But you lost a witch trial, I take it?"

"I tried to use the strict reading you're going for," said Hezekiah. "I tried to show that the testimony of the witcher was tainted. Everything you're doing."

"And it failed?" asked Verily.

"What do you do," asked Hezekiah, "when the witcher calls you to the stand?"

Verily stared at him in silence.

"The witcher can call my lawyer?" asked Alvin.

"It's ecclesiastical law," said Hezekiah. "The law is older than advocacy. There is no privilege unless you're an ordained minister."

"So they called you," said Purity. "But what did you say?"

"I could only tell the truth," said Hezekiah. "I had seen my clients use their knacks. Harmless! A gift of God, I said it, but there was my testimony." Tears flowed down his cheeks. "That's what hanged them."

Purity was weeping also. "What were their knacks?"

"Who?" asked Alvin.

"My mother and father," said Purity, looking at Hezekiah for confirmation.

He nodded and looked away.

"What did they die for?" asked Purity. "What was their crime?"

"Your mother could heal animals," said Hezekiah. "That's what killed her. A neighbor with an old quarrel waited too long, called her too late, and his mule died, so he said that by the power of Satan she cursed the animals of all those who didn't please her."

"And my father?"

"He could draw a straight line."

The words hung there for a moment.

"That's all?" asked Alvin.

"On paper. In the soil. Truer than a surveyor. His fences were the marvel of the neighborhood. He won the plowing prize every year at the parish fair. No one could cut so straight a furrow. His wife always made him cut the fabric when she was sewing. People remembered his knack when his wife was on trial, and he admitted it readily, seeing no harm in it, since it neither harmed others nor gave him any advantage. Except at the fair."

Purity could hardly talk for weeping. "That's why they died?"

"They died for envy," said Hezekiah, "and for the bloodlust of the witcher, and for the incompetence and arrogance, the pride of their attorney who called himself their friend but dared to put their lives at risk in a larger cause. I could have won them a banishment. They were well-liked and the trial was unpopular. The witcher was willing to dicker. But I had a cause." He gripped Purity's hands. "I can't let this man do the same to you! I've spent my life trying to keep you from the same fate, because they marked you, don't think they haven't. Quill knows who you are. Because of you, they couldn't hang your mother until you were born, and the outrage built and built among the people. There was a strong sentiment to break them out of jail. But the witchers called in the authorities and they guarded the hangings. And then they sent you away, so as not to remind the people of the outrage that had been done against you. To this day, God help the witcher who comes through that part of Netticut, because the people know the truth there."

"Then it was a victory of sorts," said Purity quietly. "They didn't die for nothing."

"They died," said Hezekiah. "Their accusers were ostracized until they moved away, but they're still alive, aren't they? The witchers lost a lot of prestige, but they're still in the witch business, aren't they? That feels like dying for nothing to me."

"It's a different trial," said Verily. "And a different judge."

"He's an honorable man, bound by law," said Hezekiah. "Don't think he isn't."

"Honorable men aren't bound by bad laws," said Verily.

Alvin laughed, a little nastily. "If that's so, how you going to tell the honorable ones from the dishonorable? Who's bound by law at all, since every law is bad at one time or another?"

"Whose side are you on?" Verily asked testily.

"I'm supposed to build a city," said Alvin. "And if I don't build it on law, what am I going to build it on? Even Napoleon makes laws that bind him, because if you don't then there's no order, it's chaos all the way down."

"So you'd rather hang?"

Alvin sighed and held up the twisted manacle. "I'm not going to hang."

"But someone will," said Verily. "If not this year then next, or the year after. Someone will hang. You said so yourself."

"Let witch trials fade out by themselves," said Alvin.

"The way slavery's fading?" Verily answered mockingly.

The door opened again. People were beginning to return. The bailiff came back to clean up the meal. "You didn't eat much," said the bailiff.

"I did," said Alvin.

Hezekiah and Purity still held hands across the railing separating spectators from the court. "Beg pardon," said the bailiff. "She's a defendant now. I don't want to put her in chains, but she's not allowed to touch folks beyond the rail."

Hezekiah nodded and withdrew his hands.

The bailiff left with the picnic basket. Alvin wrapped the manacle around his wrist again. Purity couldn't resist touching it. It was hard again. As hard as iron.

Quill came back into the courtroom smiling.

Purity turned and whispered to Hezekiah. "You're wrong, you know," she said. "It wasn't you that hanged them."

Hezekiah shook his head.

"I never knew them, but I sit now where they sat, though guiltier, because I'm the one who leveled the charge. And I tell you, they knew who their friends were."

"I was no friend to them."

"They knew who their friends were," said Purity, "and I know who their friends were. All may have been outraged, but they let the hanging take place. You alone followed me or found me here. You alone took care to raise me in safety. You gave years of your life to their child. That is a true friend."

Hezekiah buried his face in his hands. His shoulders shook, unable to bear what she had placed upon them. Absolution was a heavier burden, for the moment, than guilt.

Quill rose to his feet the moment John Adams called the court to order.

"Your Honor, I have a motion."

"Out of order," said John.

"Your Honor, I think all can be settled when we call Mr. Verily Cooper to the stand! This is ecclesiastical law and there is no--"

John banged the gavel again and again until Quill fell silent.

"I said your motion was out of order."

"There are precedents!" said Quill, seething with fury.

"On the contrary," said John. "Your motion may be in order when we resume the trial of Alvin Smith and Purity Orphan. But at the moment, this is a hearing on a motion, and in this procedure I am the questioner. There are no sides and no attorneys, only my own pursuit of information to allow me to reach a conclusion, So you will take your seat until I call you for questioning. You are the equal of all other persons in this court. You have no standing to make a motion of any kind. Is that clear to you at last, Mr. Quill?"

"You exceed your authority, Your Honor!"

"Bailiff, bring manacles and leg irons. If Mr. Quill speaks again, they are to be placed upon him to remind him that he has no authority in this courtroom during this hearing."

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.