The Betrayal of Maggie Blair - By Elizabeth Laird Page 0,27
big, tall man, dark, with gray clothes on. He—he took Mistress Wylie in his arms, and she cried out, By horse and hattock, or something, and then she threw a magic substance on the fire and up flew a stick, and she and the Devil flew on it into the air and then they—" She stopped and looked around, blushing as if she was too pure to say more. "Well, he climbed on her and used her like—like a bull uses a cow."
"What?" I said. "What?"
It was so silly I couldn't believe my ears. And I thought that no one else would believe it either. But then, to my dismay, Mr. Wilson, the farmer from Ambrisbeg, stood up.
"It's true, there was a witches' Sabbath, or some such," he said, scratching unhappily at his stubbly chin. "I heard unearthly music, and when I went to my door, I saw sparks fly up, and it looked as if there was fairy people dancing in the air."
He sat down again, his knees cracking, and nodded twice, as if he knew he had done his painful duty.
"Thank you, Mr. Wilson," Mr. Lamont said gravely. "And did you hear any words spoken? Horse and hattock, or such like?"
"The woman was calling out 'Tinkletum, tankletum,'" Mr. Wilson said. "She sang it loud, over and over. I heard that clear enough."
"I see. Spelling words, I suppose. And did you see the Devil? Did you witness sexual congress between him and this woman?"
"No. I—"
"But I did!" I hadn't noticed Mr. Wilson sharp-nosed, meek little wife, whom Granny had bullied and delighted in mocking year after year. She had sprung to her feet, and I could tell from the shine in her eyes and the quiver in her voice that her years of humiliation had boiled up within her and were spewing out at last in a triumphant blast of revenge.
"The girl's right! The Devil himself was there! I saw the two of them as they left their wicked Sabbath. Elspeth and the Evil One. Conjoined. His eyes red like fire. There was a—a wailing, like the souls of the damned screaming from Hell."
"Who's going to listen to this rubbish?" shot out Granny. "The woman heard the sound of the air coming out of the bagpipes. You all know what a din it makes."
She spoke bravely, but I could see that the Wilsons' evidence had rattled her more than the rest of it.
"And what have you to say, Mistress Wylie, to the charges brought against you?" Mr. Lamont said, giving her a turn to answer at last.
If only Granny had been able to control her anger! If only she had learned to speak calmly and show respect, and tell clearly what was truth and what was lies. But her one refuge was anger, and her only weapon was to create fear. She stood with her feet wide apart, her head thrown back, and ranted and denounced and denied and scoffed, insulting the judges one by one. "I call upon the fires of Hell to fall on all in this room!" she shouted at last. "May the Devil's burning brands scorch your flesh till it falls from your bones, and may you boil in the cauldron of his rage forever and ever!"
She stopped suddenly and her eyes widened. She crossed her arms on her chest and bowed her head. I think she knew that she'd gone too far. She was defeated and had brought her destruction on herself.
Mr. Lamont raised a hand and said into the breathless silence, "Elspeth Wylie, out of your own mouth you have condemned yourself. You are judged to be a witch and to have used malefice against your neighbors. You will be taken to the shore and strangled upon the gallows tomorrow at two o'clock in the afternoon. And your body will be tied to a stake and burned as an example to all those who might be tempted to follow in your path of wickedness."
People can say what they like about my grandmother, but no one could doubt her courage. She did not show by so much as a blink that she was afraid. But I could smell the fear on her. I could sense her inner trembling.
Aloud she said, in a quieter, more natural voice, "I expected no less than this from such a court of hypocrites. I'm no witch, and most of you know it. Fine judges you are. But tomorrow I'll be standing in front of God my maker, the Judge