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By Mat Charles
The Mayor's voice rang out. "You stand accused of witchery and murder. These are serious charges indeed. Do you have anything to say in your defence?"
The youth stopped picking his teeth for a moment to belch. The Mayor frowned.
"Your testimony is noted. Does anybody else have anything to say for the defence?"
A tired-looking peasant couple stood up. The man had half a dozen dirty bandages on his arms and legs.
"We do, my Lord. We are the boy's parents," he said. The woman clutched at his hand and nodded.
"I see. Are you all right?"
"Fine, m'Lord. He hardly scraped the bone. It was an accident."
The Mayor raised an eyebrow. "And what do you have to say?"
"Well, m'Lord, he was always such a happy baby -" began the man.
"- always happy, bless his little 'eart -" continued his wife.
"- even if he was a bit on the hairy side, so if he grew up to go around eatin' people -"
"- probably a mistake, he gets confused easy, poor thing -"
"- it must be our fault, for not raisin' him proper-like."
The woman nudged her husband and whispered something to him.
"M'Lord, m'wife says that, seeing as we're on oath an' all, we oughta say as we ain't technically his parents; we just found him layin' there in the woods, so we took him in -"
"- on account of us not having a baby, what with Frank's little problem and all -"
"- and I didn't even know m'self until Jenny told me last year, so I don't see as it makes any difference."
The Mayor nodded sombrely. "Thank you. You may stand down now."
"- and he had the prettiest little toes you ever saw, even if the nails was a bit rough, and his teeth were always bright and clean, and he hardly ever ate the other children -"
The man shushed his wife, bowed humbly, and sat down.
"Is there anybody else to speak for the accused?"
A tall, slightly nervous-looking priest stood up. "Yes, My Lord."
"Ah, Father. Please continue."
He licked his lips nervously. "Well, Sir, while he has at times needed a little encouragement, I would say that he shows a great deal of promise and enthusiasm. He was particularly keen, for instance, to partake in the Communion; he found the miracle of the transubstantiation of the bread and wine to Our Lord's flesh and blood fascinating."
"A true disciple, it sounds. What is your opinion of his character?"
"He could be a little... hot-headed at times. But he always confessed his sins faithfully, sparing no gory details. In fact, I would say he took pleasure in relating them." The priest swallowed, then continued weakly. "It was always an experience to hear him."
"No doubt. Would you say that there were warning signs that he might be a witch?"
"Well, my Lord, there was that incident where he was found playing with his friends with a knife, but we thought that he was probably just a little excited and thirsty. But when the verger caught him in the shape of a werewolf tearing out a sheep's throat with his teeth at midnight on the altar, wearing black robes and chanting the Lord's Prayer backwards, we realised there might be a problem."
"I can imagine."
"So we asked the Social Services for help, and they did such a marvellous job with their 'Care in the Community' that he was completely better in time for the verger's funeral. It really was remarkable."
"And since then, he has been a model of good behaviour?"
"Generally, yes. There were a couple of minor incidents, but they turned out to be flesh wounds."
"Thank you, Father. I think we should hear from the defendant's Social Worker."
As the priest sat down, mopping his brow, one of the clerks stood up and turned to the Mayor.
"My Lord, the witness met with an untimely accident on his way here, but managed to scrawl a statement before passing out from blood loss."
"Let me see... 'The boy done goode. He is, a splednid felloww. Signed, My Soshul Werker.'"
The youth grinned toothily.
"Well then, unless there is any other testimony..." The Mayor paused for a moment, then continued, "I believe that concludes the case. Since there is evidence that the accused may indeed be a witch, I declare that he must be subject to Trial By Water. He shall be taken from this place to consecrated ground and have holy water poured on him. If he survives, he is innocent; if it scalds the flesh from his bones, we will know he is a witch. Sergeant, take two of your men and-"
Suddenly, the doors to the room were flung open. Sunshine streamed in, silhouetting two figures, a tall man and a shorter woman. Both carried crossbows.
"Freeze! Nobody move!"
"There he is, Fox. Looks like we got here just in time."
Still brandishing her bow, the woman edged forward, wrapped one arm around the youth protectively, then backed out slowly. The man lingered in the doorway.
"Come on, Fox, we need to get the boy out of here."
"But we're so close! The Proof that we've been searching for -"
"- that you've been searching for -"
"- could be in there! A cult of necromancy-enslaved humans! Zombies! Soul-possessing killer fleas! A lucrative film contract! Nazi alien dinosaurs! After all we've seen together, you have to believe that there's- Hey, wait up!"
ROLL CREDITS.
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The copyright to these stories is owned by Matthew Charles. That means you must not distribute them without permission. This is important; I'm working on getting them published properly. So by all means read and enjoy, but please don't do anything that might jeopardise my chances. Thanks. Oh yes, and disclaimer: This one contains references to a couple of characters who Do Not Belong To Me. They're not mine. I was just, uh, looking at them. I'll put them back right away. See? No worries.
Matthew Charles