Wolves Among Us(48)

Bastion said something to the men behind him that made them smirk, and he stood. “Stefan, it is good of you to come. This is your work too, after all.” Bastion gestured over the women kneeling at his feet.

“Humiliation is not my work.”

Bastion opened his arms, welcoming all to listen. “Father Stefan expresses what many of you think, yes? Let us remember why I have been called here, with some urgency, by your Father. Did you not have two murders here?”

Stefan saw them nod.

“Did they show signs of witchcraft?”

Bastion waited less time for the nods.

“Did not King Saul consult a witch in his hour of great distress?” Bastion asked, another Scripture story he seemed to know well. “And King Saul brought wrath upon himself for his wicked ways, upon his whole family, upon his whole kingdom. His sons died. His warriors died. What does the Bible command good men of God to do with a witch?”

The answer burned in Stefan’s mind. He had heard this one verse quoted for years. He never imagined it would matter to him.

“‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,’” Bastion called. “God commands it. God does not say it is pleasant work. Who among you is a Christian? Jesus says only true disciples obey His commands. This is a test from God, I tell you. The true disciples of Jesus are being revealed. Woe unto him who fails the test. Woe unto him who betrays His Lord. May Judas be cut off from his people forever.”

“No.” Stefan stepped forward. “It is I who will put you to the test. You must prove your claims or release these women at once. Prove to us that you do God’s will.”

The women had turned their faces up to Stefan to see their savior. He scowled. They must have done something to be arrested. Women’s foolishness had made his own mistakes that much worse.

“I have always allowed these tests, my friends,” Bastion said. “There are lawfully prescribed tests to know if a woman is a witch. Woe unto me if I am not careful in my work, for the very souls of these women are in my hands.”

“Prove to us they are witches, or leave this village today,” Stefan said.

“If you had labored with me, Father, you would have seen proof already, but you have chosen to spend your time cowering in your church, too afraid to confront the Devil. Did I not see even Dame Alice here trying to drag you out? But to appease you, let us test the women.”

Bastion grabbed Nelsa by the elbow, pulling her to her feet. Nelsa stood much shorter than Bastion, her head coming to his shoulder. Her face grieved him. He had never seen it so red from tears.

“Tie her with her wrists around her back,” he ordered. A man stepped forward, taking a rope from Bastion’s chair.

“What is the test?” Stefan asked.

Bastion waited for the knot to be tied, then took hold of her arm and walked through the crowd, dragging Nelsa behind him. She began to cry again. Dame Alice lunged after her, trying to grab her away, but Erick restrained her, pressing her face into his cloak, whispering in her ear, trying to calm her. He looked at Stefan with an awful expression. Stefan shook his head. He had no answers. He had done everything he knew to do.

“Mercy,” Nelsa cried out, searching for a face that had kindness upon it. “Mercy. I am no witch.”

“Then why did my son die in your arms?” a blacksmith called from the crowd.

“Sir, I do not know! That is the work of God, not me!”

“God would never allow that! You should burn for your crimes!”

“What is this test?” Stefan yelled, trying to catch up and cut through the crowd following Bastion. Bastion led them to the river, which stood at the south from the village. Stefan heard it before he saw it, the sound of the moving water and the life in the trees that went right to the edge. Bastion led them through the trees, into the water, walking out several paces with Nelsa, turning her to face the crowd.

“It is a well-known fact that a witch cannot drown. A witch has given the Devil everything that has made her human. In the water, without heart or spirit in her body, she is weightless.” Bastion walked Nelsa further out into the fast-moving water. Stefan saw the whitecaps moving in the same direction as the dark clouds touching the horizon. A storm descended. Bastion walked her out until the water came to his chest and nearly to her chin. He shoved her deeper in and let go.

Nelsa screamed, just once. Stefan saw her head bob up, her mouth gasping for air. But the whitecaps slammed water in her face, and she took in more water than air.

“Save her, Father,” a woman beside him on the banks whispered to him.

Stefan turned, sick from the vision of Nelsa. “What can I do?”

Nelsa did not surface again. Bastion walked back to the shore, shivering. The villagers stood, dazed, watching the water for signs of life. The whitecaps rolled on.

Stefan grabbed him by the arm. “She did not float. She drowned. She was innocent.”

“The water ran cold today.” Bastion rubbed his arms, shivering.

“She was innocent,” Stefan repeated.

The villagers looked back and forth between the two men.

Bastion turned to them. “Did you see the way she fought? Did you hear her scream? She did float—I saw it—but Satan took her under. She wanted to confess everything.” He clucked his teeth. “You are in greater danger than I imagined.”

Someone took off their wrap and offered it to Bastion, who accepted it with thanks and set back toward the village.