Welcome, you’ve stumbled into The Tori Story Series. If this is your first visit to this realm you might want to catch up.

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“Where is the High Judge?” The Witch inquired, entirely out of turn.

“You are not to speak, nor utter a word from your cursed mouth, you wretched beast!” the Magistrate warned. “The High Judge is this day detained.” He uttered and then coughed under his breath. “…or more accurately dead…” Then resuming in a normal tone, which for him was two decibels too loud. “Having died peacefully and suddenly whilst he slept in the night.”

“HA! Dead!” Tori replied then she too coughed under her breath. “That’s convenient.”

And it was convenient. Everyone knew the High Judge would have been fair to Tori. Fair, however, wasn’t wanted. 

“And how, exactly did he come to die? ” The Witch inquired. “Did you kill him?”  

The crowd gasped and murmured. Murmured and gasped. Until once again the din grew so loud the Magistrate could hardly think. 

“QUIET, QUIET.” the magistrate ordered. When the crowd finally complied he turned to the Witch. “I am not at trial here. You are. There will be no talk from you or I will immediately and forcefully remove your tongue.

He then addressed those gathered. “I, being myself, will hereto forth resume the position of High Judge to hear and try this foul wench before us in the effort of ascertaining her Witchy-ness. And when we do so find her guilty, she shall be burned alive at the stake!”

The Magistrate smiled. The crowd cheered. The Witch sighed.

“What is my charge?” Tori called out ignoring the Magistrate’s threat.

“Your charge? Why, I am so glad you asked. You are charged with being a Witch!” The Magistrate crossed him arms, pursed his lips tightly, and nodded his head in resolution. He was so caught up in officiating his first high profile trial, that he completely forgot the actual charge was the death of Ben, the King’s son. 

The crowd forgot this important detail as well and immediately began chanting. “A WITCH!” “A WITCH!” “A WITCH!” 

“But what is my crime?” Tori scanned the room in hopes of finding a friendly face. In the back corner of the room she noticed Andor— a bemused smile on his face. 

From somewhere outside, a rather plump woman yelled. “She turned John Smith into a dog!” 

“Did you see it?” a neighbor inquired.

“No, but I heard about it. I did.” She muttered.

“Me too!” “Me three!” “Me four!” 

“Four witnesses!” The Magistrate called out. He then turned to the court recorder. “Mark it, please. Four witnesses attest that she, the Witch, did indeed turn John Smith into a dog.” 

Exasperated, Tori rolled her eyes. “But they only just heard about it. That is hardly a witness. You would have to have been there.”

“QUIET!” The Magistrate roared. Then his face lit up as if in sudden realization. “So! You admit to turning John Smith into a dog.” He turned to the crowd. “Did you hear that? Did you? The Witch admitted it.” 

“I saw it!” One from the crowd agreed. “Me too!” “Me three!” “Me four!” 

The Magistrate turned again to the court reporter. “Mark it down, please. Four witnesses that the Witch admits her guilt.” 

“I did nothing of the sort.” Tori cried out but it was to no avail. The noise of the crowd drowned her out. 

“I seen her flying through the air!” Cried one.

“On a broomstick!” Added another.

Gasps.

“She cast a spell on me brother,” Farmer, an older member of the town, yelled. “He locked hisself up in his room and touched hisself for days and days. I witnessed it with me own eyes!” 

More gasps. 

I will add too, that no one thought to question this preposterous accusation. Farmer’s brother had been dead for nigh twenty years. He could only have been talking about himself.

“Anyone else, here in this room, suffered from this same type of spell?” The Magistrate shifted uncomfortably and scanned the crowd. One telling bead of sweat dribbled down his cheek. Followed by three or four. Was he too guilty?

The men stared holes through the floor, much to the irritation of all the womenfolk. Because though none wanted to admit it the Witch was exceptionally beautiful to behold. 

Like cackling hens, all the women began muttering amongst themselves, agreeing that yes, a spell must have been cast on most, if not all, of the men folk. Young and old alike. Many had caught their men craning their necks with no effort to hide their wandering lust-filled eyes each and every time the Witch passed by. 

One by one the hens agreed, only this time not too enthusiastically. “Me too” “Me three” “Me four” they remarked dejectedly.

“Mark it down, four witnesses!” 

And so it came to be that each new accusation laid out by a member of the crowd was in fact just an effort to outdo the last. With each new accusation, no matter how nonsensical (made real by the crowd’s confirmation: Me too! Me three! Me four!), the Magistrate would turn to the court reporter and say. “Four witnesses. Mark it down, please.” 

In the excitement of the moment, the crowd completely forgot that though the witch was tied at this particular moment, perhaps she might actually be loosed later. At which point she might be free to visit them once they tucked themselves to bed at night.

I tell you true that tonight, in the quiet solitude of their own homes, many a soul present this day regretted their accusations. For when the crowd dispersed later that afternoon, their false bravery dispersed with it.

Nonetheless, the crowd was still gathered. Always, there is strength in numbers. That is why for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening the accusations became more and more bizarre and outlandish until a few of the spectators (really, I wouldn’t want you to think the entire town was against Tori— in fact, there were those who loved her dearly) thought they would become sick for the ridiculousness of it. 

At any rate, much fussing, arguing and fighting ensued.

So much so that not one present noticed the subtle but significant shift in Tori as she closed her eyes and slowed her breath.

The crowd— Magistrate included— was so enthralled by the stories of the antics of the Witch that they didn’t even notice her completely fade away.

She wasn’t gone. Not really. She was still there, hiding in plain sight. Aware. 

Some time later, long after the sun began its dive into the horizon, the stories finally ceased and the Magistrate turned to where Tori should have been sitting, pointed and screeched. “GUILTY AS CHARGED!” 

Only the Witch was gone.

If anyone had bothered to look, they would have seen the chains still attached to the ankles. Suspended there like magic but I assure you not one there was brave enough to look. 

The crowd dispersed.

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