Ironic Justice

I don’t understand why everyone is screaming. I’m alive! When they bound my hands and feet and tossed me in the water, I thought I was a goner. Two girls I knew had already drowned this way. But almost as soon as I sank into the water, my body shot upward and out of the river. It was uncanny really. I didn’t just float slowly to the top, or bob along the surface. I propelled into the air a bit and seemed to bounce along like a skipped stone.

It’s almost like I actually am a witch. Oh, that’s hysterical.

That must be why everyone is panicking. They really believe I’m a witch. I blink the water out of my eyes as I watch my neighbors trample each other just to get away from me. It would be laughable if it didn’t look so bad. Now they’ll think I’m some evil girl that’s been cursing them all. Perfect, I survived their test, but I’m going to die anyway. How is this fair?

I watch as the guards who tossed me into the water bolt away. They seem to realize they should be arresting me, and turn back. I almost chuckle. They look toward the witch hunter, who arranged this whole farce. He points a shaking finger at me and commands them to take me to the goall.

“Make sure she is secured and well-guarded,” he tells them. “I’ve never seen the water repel a witch so strongly. She must be extremely dangerous.”

Me, dangerous? He can’t be serious. I’ve never hurt anyone. I’ve never even attempted any kind of witchcraft. I’ll admit, it was strange what happened, but I know I’m not a witch.

At least, I’m fairly certain. I would know if I was a witch, right? There would be some kind of sign before now, like cats following me around or broomsticks flying towards me. This is mad.

The guards lead me into the dark filthy cells. They throw me in and quickly lock the doors, backing out of the stone cavern. One of them trips as he bumps into the bottom stair. I giggle as they all scramble up into the light of day. Now, I’m left alone to contemplate what happened.

There has to be a reasonable explanation. Plenty of people float to the top of the water. They just float much more slowly. And they don’t shoot out of the water as I did. This is a calamity. What am I to do? How do I convince people I’m not a witch?

My breathing quickens and my face starts to heat up. No one will believe that I’m not a witch; I’m beginning to doubt it myself. I need something to focus on, so I don’t panic. For argument’s sake, let’s say I could be a witch. How would I find out for certain? I could try doing magic. But how does one cast spells?

I look at the lock on my cell and snap my fingers. Nothing happens.

“Open,” I say as I wave my hand at the bars. Still, nothing happens.

I hear a giggle behind me, light as a wind chime. “If it were that easy, anyone could do it.”

I turn to see a tiny, shimmering humanoid with a pair of translucent wings. I rub my eyes. Clearly, I’m imagining a fairy in my desperation. I must’ve heard too many stories about witch familiars. The creature flits toward me and I back away, hitting my head on the bars.

The fairy doubles over, giggling again. “She’s scared of me,” she says, “little adorable me, come to help her.”

I furrow my brows and examine this supposed helper of mine. She’s about half a foot tall with pale green skin and wings. She has lavender-colored hair and a dress to match. In fact, the cell now smells of lavender too. She floats above the ground, wings moving almost faster than I can see.

“Look at her face; she clearly needs help,” the fairy says with that high-pitched giggle.

She’s really starting to bother me. “I can hear you, you know”.

“Oh, I know,” she says with a wink.

“I don’t want your help.”

“I don’t think you have a choice.”

We stare each other down for a moment. Finally, I sigh. “How do I get out of here, then?”

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea. If you break out of this cell, they’ll condemn you as a witch for sure.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” I ask.

“Win the trial, of course.” She giggles again, and I wonder what would happen if I tried to squish her.

“But I actually am a witch!” I cry out in exasperation.

“Just get the jury to like you. People like you right?”

I gulp. I’m doomed.

“Right, dumb question,” she continues. “I don’t even like her, and I’m a nice fairy.” She giggles especially hard at that.

I grit my teeth and turn my back to her, gripping the bars tightly. Go away, I think. I turn around slowly. She’s still flying around my cell. I throw my hands up in the air.

“I better teach you how to escape, just in case,” she tells me with a mischievous grin. “It’s simple really; you just recite an incantation or perform a ritual that is pleasing to your familiar. That’s me.” She puts her hand to her heart and blinks innocently. “Then, they will help you.”

I groan.

“Some familiars like Latin; others enjoy a good dance…”

“And what pleases you, great fairy?” I ask as I roll my eyes.

“I’m rather amused by rhymes.” She claps excitedly.

“Of course, you are,” I mumble.

My fairy familiar floats down to the ground and taps her little foot impatiently. I always thought fairies would be sweeter. I purse my lips as I try to think of a good rhyme. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

“How about this?” I ask. “This lock you will pick, or I’ll give you a kick.” I grin at my cleverness.

The fairy frowns and crosses her arm. Her foot taps faster now.

“Open my cell, or you’ll go straight to…”

“Hey!” She exclaims as she flies right toward my face. She takes a finger that’s as thin as a toothpick and pokes me in the nose. “I’m trying to help you learn magic. The least you could do is take it seriously.”

I present my most solemn face and stand up very straight. She lets out another chiming giggle. This time I smile.

“Do fairies have names?” I ask.

“Of course they do. Mine’s Luna Willowvale. What’s yours?”

Now, it’s my turn to double over laughing. Of course, she would have such a ridiculous name. Luna frowns at me.

“What’s so funny about Luna Willowvale?” she wonders aloud.

I sputter some more. Finally, I straighten up and extend my hand. “Nice to meet you, Luna…Willowvale,” I say as I scrunch up my face, trying not to laugh again. “My name is Jane Lilly.”

Luna reaches out with her little hand and grasps my pinky finger. Her touch is light as a feather, as she shakes my finger.

“Now, Jane, are you ready to create some magic?”

...

As much as she gives me trouble, Luna stays with me until they come for me. She even takes pity on me and allows me to stop coming up with ridiculous rhymes to get her to do my bidding. I am marched from the goall, as my pulse pounds in my ears. The only thing that keeps me standing is seeing Luna flitting in the corner of my vision. As they open the doors to the court, my mouth goes dry.

A group of local ladies stands in the courtroom. At the sight of me, they start flailing their limbs about and shaking grotesquely. I almost start laughing, until I realize what they are doing. These little fakes are trying to make it look like I cursed them. Unbelievable. I look around the room, expecting to see people treating this like the joke it is, but everyone feigns looks of concern for the women. I let out an exasperated breath. I forget my fear as I am filled with indignation.

The goallers bring me forward and command me to lay a hand on each of the women. The second I touch each of them, they stop twitching. This is quite a scene. I glare at them as I am brought forward. They cower dramatically and lean into each other. I’d like to give them a real reason to be afraid of me. Luna circles around the group of them and stick out her tongue. The corners of my mouth pull up slightly.

The attorney steps forward and asks the ladies who struck them down. They all give me my name.

“Jane Lilly, you are accused of afflicting Mrs. Mary Marshall by witchcraft, and now you have hurt many others here today. Now you have the opportunity, to tell the truth in this matter,” the attorney proclaims.

“The truth is, I know nothing of it. Nor would I be sensible of it, if I was in the Devil’s snare.”

The attorney’s mouth twitches at my snide comment. He peppers me with absurd allegations, but I deny them all. The man’s mouth scrunches up and his eyebrows furrow as he tries to convince me to confess.

“I bid you speak the truth,” he exclaims.

“I will, for God is a God of truth,” I reply. His face turns bright red and he clenches his fists.

At that moment, I watch as Luna flies up and loosens the belt around the attorney’s breeches. They promptly drop to the floor. The courtroom erupts in laughter.

“Congratulations Mr. Hawthorn, it appears you’ve lost some weight,” I tell the attorney before I turn to the jury with a smile.

Mr. Hawthorn, presumably giving up on making me confess, parades a line of witnesses forward to speak against me. I become bored of it all, and I look at my fairy familiar. I glance between her and the group of liars making accusations against me. She gets my hint right away. She flies between the women and starts tickling them with her tiny fingers. They scream and begin jerking around. I fight to keep an innocent expression on my face.

Once again, I am brought forward to lay hands on the women. They pull themselves together at my touch. I try not to roll my eyes. The last witness finishes speaking, and I’m permitted to give my final statement.

“I have never had any inclination to harm another. If I confessed anything of this, I should deny the truth and wrong my own soul,” I proclaim as I look the jurors in the eye, one by one.

After this, I am led from the musty courtroom. As I pass by my accusers once more, Luna carefully shoves a large legal tome onto one of their feet. The girl jumps up and glares right at me.

“She made this book fall on me,” she accuses, as she jabs her finger at me.

“Now they plan to blame me for every accident that occurs?” I ask hands held open before me as I shrug.

The jurors chuckle behind me, as I exit the courtroom.

...

Luna helps me pass the days spent in my cell by teaching me more about familiars. Fairies, she tells me, are perfect for mischievous tasks because of their invisibility. Plus, I can tell they have the personality for it. When I tell this to Luna, she just sticks her tongue out at me.

Rats are good at spying. They can hide in tight places and no one seems to notice them. Toads are the most effective at helping with potions. Cats are perfect for convincing people to do things they don’t want to, and knocking things over. Dogs are great for delivering items and sending messages. They also make loyal protectors, especially when you don’t want another witch’s cat familiar trying to trick you.

Her lessons give me an idea.

“How would I call a familiar here?” I ask.

“Oh, what a lovely idea! Let’s have one come to visit us. Where should we start?” she taps a tiny finger against her chin.

“I was thinking I could send a message to my parents.”

“We’ll summon a dog then. Just be careful. They like to use their tongues to cover you in slobber. Last time I saw one, my clothes were dripping the rest of the day and I smelled awful.” Luna crosses her arms and frowns at the memory.

“I don’t think I have anything to worry about,” I reply with a laugh. Luna glares at me. “But I’ll keep the dog away from you,” I promise her.

“Fine, let’s begin. Most familiars will come when they sense that you need them, just like I did. Some are more intuitive or cooperative than others. Dogs are actually the perfect familiar to start with. They usually come at the first whiff of a summons. Cats on the other hand, although very in tune with your needs, tend to come whenever they please.”

I nod my head, thinking of our stubborn tabby back home.

“First you need to lift your arms above your head,” Luna tells me. I follow her instructions. “Close your eyes and think of what you need.”

I think about how I want to let my parents know that I’m safe. I know my mother must be worried sick. Father is probably trying to find a way to break me out.

“Now, twirl in a circle three times.” Again, I comply. “Then, stick your thumb in your mouth.”

I open my eyes and glower at Luna. She is fighting not to laugh, but once she sees my face she lets it out.

“How much of that was actually necessary?” I ask.

“You only have to close your eyes and focus on what you want. The rest was just for my enjoyment.” She flashes me a sparkly grin.

I look for something to throw at her. Just then a scruffy black dog bounds into the goall. In his mouth are parchment and a graphite pencil. He trots right up to the bars of my cell and drops them in front of me. Then, he sits and stares at me with wide eyes, tail wagging back and forth along the ground.

“Good dog,” I tell him.

I reach through the bars and give him a few pets and a scratch behind the ears. He jumps up and licks my arm vigorously. I laugh, but I hear Luna make a sound of disgust behind me. I pick up my utensils and begin writing a note to my family. The dog stretches out along the floor as he waits for me to finish. When I move back to the bars, the dog jumps up and comes to take the message.

“Deliver this to my parents,” I tell him, unsure if he even understands me.

He sits very still. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do now. The dog pushes his nose against my hand. I reach out and give him a good petting with both hands. When I stop, he bounds out of the goall and disappears. Now, I wait.

After a few days, I begin to think my loyal companion has disappointed me. I hear no word from either of my parents. I had begged them to seek my release from this place, but still, I languish here. Another thought occurs to me; maybe it’s not my familiar that has let me down.

...

I hear footsteps coming down the steps and I sit up to eat my meager breakfast. Instead, my mother comes rushing forward. My father and a guard follow behind her.

“My baby!” my mother exclaims with tear-soaked eyes.

She reaches through the bars to grasp my hands so tightly that I think she might crush them. But I don’t care. I squeeze back as a sob escapes my throat.

“You release her, this instant,” my father demands. “She’s been locked in here long enough.”

The guard shuffles forward and mumbles under his breath. He shoves the key into the lock and opens the door. I stumble out to embrace both my parents. My father is the only one holding up both my mother and me.

“I’m sorry it took us so long,” my mother tells me, “but we needed time to come up with the money. And we weren’t exactly sure how to reach back out to you.” There is a questioning look in her eyes, but we can’t say more in front of the guard.

My father leads us back home, where my mother brings me a basin of warm water for a sponge bath. It’s the first I’ve had since I was thrown in the water that day. It seems like a lifetime ago. I went from a terrified girl, thinking I would drown at the mercy of the witch hunter, to a witch who stood up for herself in open court. I still wait to find out whether I made the right decision.

After I’m clean, my mother sits on a stool behind me and brushes my hair, something she hasn’t done since I was a little girl. I explain everything to her, and then I hold my breath. She runs her fingers through my hair as she tells me that it will all work out. It’s only then that I allow myself to completely relax.

When we leave my room, my father has a heaping breakfast prepared for us. I eat a plate full of codfish cakes, with an extra side of fried ham. My father keeps telling me to have some more and adding food to my plate. I laugh and eat until I finally have to surrender to my bursting stomach. It’s only then that I look around to realize that my fairy is gone.

That night in my bed, I call to Luna. She appears to tell me that I don’t need her anymore, at least not at the moment. She will always come back whenever I do need her, though. I ask her to stay with me tonight. I don’t want to be alone. She doesn’t answer me but just looks at the door before she vanishes again. A second later, my mother opens the door to my bedroom with our tabby cat in her arms.

“I thought I might sleep with you, just for tonight,” she says quietly.

I nod my head, unable to speak over the lump in my throat. My mother climbs into bed with me, and our cat curls up between our feet. I fall into a deep restful sleep at last.

...

The couple of months until my fate will be decided drag on endlessly. I’m glad to be back home, but the fear still nags at the back of my mind all the time. Whatever the decision, I just want this to be over.

On the morning we are set to hear the pronouncement of my guilt or innocence, my family is silent at the table. The wooden trencher of corn mush is hardly touched. Eventually, my father pushes his chair back from the table and walks over to open a cabinet in our small kitchen. He returns with a bottle and three metal canns. He clunks the bottle down on the table in front of us.

“George, is this really the time for rum?” my mother asks.

“’Tis exactly the time,” my father answers.

He passes us each a cann and the matter is settled. He pours me the same amount he pours himself, serving my mother less. When I raise the cann to my lips, the sharp sting of alcohol fills my nostrils. I take a gulp, and I feel the rum burning down my throat and into my stomach. It settles there before spreading warmth throughout my body. I finish the rest before reaching for my glass of cider to wash away the taste. We look around at each other and my father nods.

Just before we leave the comfort of our home, my mother stops me with a light touch on the shoulder. She pulls me into a fierce embrace that puts a lump in my throat. When my father wraps his arms around us both, tears well up in my eyes. We stay that way for a moment before we dry our eyes and open the door.

The second we step outside, I’m glad I had the rum to warm me. I pull my cloak tight against the brisk winter air. We walk through town, clustered together against the cold. I notice something flit around the edge of my vision.

“You didn’t think I’d let you go through this without me, did you?” Luna asks.

I just smile at her as she floats up to stay by my shoulder. We continue on, finally reaching the courthouse. My parents squeeze my hands before we enter. Luna just sticks her tongue out at me. My lips pull up into a smile for a moment, but then the doors open.

My heart starts pounding, and my palms are sweaty despite the cold. When the witch hunter and the attorney enter the courtroom, I turn to face them. The witch hunter’s eyes are wide as he watches me carefully. Mr. Hawthorn steps forward and presents the charges against me. Although I am a witch, I have committed none of the acts that he accuses me of. The foreman then stands to proclaim the verdict. I hold my breath.

“Ignoramus,” he says.

For a moment, I stand in shock. I didn’t expect to be cleared of the charges. I collapse into my parent's arms, and we all cry tears of joy. My body is shaking, but I turn to bow my head to the jury in thanks. Our exit from the courtroom is a blur.

Once outside, one of the jurors approaches me. My parents are off speaking with friends, so we stand alone.

“Good day,” she greets me before turning to my left. “Good day,” she says again.

“Good day to you, Martha,” Luna replies. I look between the two of them, jaw hanging open.

“You’re a…witch?” I whisper.

“I am, and I knew you were too the moment I saw Luna in the courtroom.”

“You two know each other?” I ask.

“Oh yes, I love to come to visit Crystal and Juniper,” Luna exclaims with a twirl.

“Juniper Hollyrose is my fairy familiar, and Crystal Moonbeam is my daughter’s,” Martha explains.

“Luna Willowvale doesn’t sound so awful now, does it?”

I roll my eyes.

“Is that why I was found innocent?” I ask. “Because you knew I was a witch?”

“Well, that’s why I tried to convince them to let you go, but it wasn’t hard. People around here are sick of all the panic and hatred being stoked up by those two.” She nods toward the attorney and witch hunter across the courtyard. “People are sick of being afraid for themselves and their families. They’re tired of neighbors accusing neighbors of witchcraft, just because of disagreements. Or worse, because they stand out or refuse to conform. Mostly though, they liked that someone finally took a stand against it and revealed this whole affair for the mockery it is,” Martha pauses. “I personally think it’s an ironic kind of justice, that the first actual witch they catch is set free,” she says with a grin.

...

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