Free Witchstruck by Victoria Lamb

listening to his suspicions with respect. ‘And this girl may be simple, but she seems fairly certain of what she saw.’
    ‘I swear on my mother’s grave, I am no witch.’
    Bedingfield shrugged. ‘Well, I cannot uncover the truth in your account. But Father Vasco is right. Joan’s story is not entirely to be dismissed, for all she is a simpleton. We must rouse the Lady Elizabeth. You are her maid, so she should hear the testimony on both sides and decide what is to be done.’
    My heart sang when I heard those words. Elizabeth might be angry with me for taking such an enormous risk, but at least she would save me from this accusation.
    But the infuriating Blanche Parry would not allow Bedingfield to wake Elizabeth. Blanche stood her ground when he became angry, her arms folded stubbornly over her chest. ‘I am sorry, sir, but I will not have my mistress disturbed over this nonsense. She is still unwell and must not be upset. Any small thing and her condition worsens.’
    ‘Then I must send for the witchfinder, Marcus Dent. Witchcraft is a hanging offence, as you must know, and I would not be doing my duty as head of this household if I did not take Joan’s accusation seriously.’ Bedingfield paused, glancing at me. ‘Master Dent knows this girl’s family, and I’ve heard he has some skill in interrogation. Perhaps he will be able to uncover the truth behind these two contradictory accounts.’
    My blood ran cold at the thought of being interrogated by Marcus Dent. His cold, sharp mind would leap straight to my aunt when he heard I had been accused of witchcraft, and although I felt sure I could handle Marcus, he had always disliked my aunt and would happily use this accusation as an excuse to investigate her too.
    ‘Joan is a simpleton. She does not know what she is saying, sir,’ I protested. ‘This is all a terrible mistake—’
    ‘Then Marcus Dent will be the man to clear it up for us, won’t he?’ Bedingfield thundered back at me, banging his fist on the table. ‘Be silent, girl. It is no longer your turn to speak.’
    I suddenly wondered how many days I had left to live. Not many more, if this man’s belligerence was shared by the others who would examine me. My hands began to shake. Would Blanche even tell the Lady Elizabeth of the danger I was in?
    Elizabeth’s gaoler asked for pen, ink and paper to be brought, and scratched out a brief note for his messenger to carry to Dent’s house, which lay just beyond Green Hanborough, a few hours’ ride from Woodstock by road.
    I stood and watched him write his letter, wondering if I could use my gift to influence the man into letting this matter drop. But there were too many people here as witnesses. I could not hope to influence them all, I was not skilled enough for such a powerful magick. Especially with the two Spanish priests present, who had stood listening to every word of my explanation with suspicion etched on their dark faces.
    Alejandro de Castillo had finally lifted his hand from his sword hilt, though the expression in his eyes was still dangerous.
    Did the Spaniard suspect and hate me so fiercely?
    I shook the question aside. It did not matter what he or anyone else thought of me. It only mattered what Marcus Dent could prove.
    ‘There,’ Bedingfield said, and handed the note to his messenger. ‘I have requested the witchfinder make his way here first thing in the morning. Meanwhile, you will both go straight to bed and not leave your bedchamber until called before Master Dent.’
    ‘I won’t sleep in the same room as the witch!’ Joan sobbed, hiding her face in her apron again.
    ‘There, there, silly girl,’ Blanche Parry said comfortably, and gathered her up against her chest. ‘You can sleep with me in the room next to the Lady Elizabeth.’ She glared at Bedingfield over Joan’s head, as though daring him to refuse permission. ‘She’ll be as well-guarded there as her ladyship, and I’ll make sure she does not leave the