Last week a messenger, traveling with a group of players from the North, brought me a packet. It was addressed to Juliett Ser Auguste, Dancer, in a round hand that I did not recognize, and it bore signs of having been carried for many months before the players came to me by chance. There was no address upon the packet, but my messenger told me it had been given him by a nun from Brittany some five months ago.
I opened it. The packet contained a leaf of thick paper, close-written in the same unfamiliar round hand, plus two printed news sheets. As I unfolded them something fell out from between the papers and rang upon the ground. I stooped to pick it up. It was a small enameled medallion that I knew welclass="underline" on it was Christina Mirabilis, the miracle worker, floating arms outstretched within a ring of orange flame.
I read the letter. Here it is:
Dear Auguste,
I hope this Letter findes You, as I Praye every Daye thatt itt will. I think of You and Remembere You in my Prayers, You and Flore. I have kept Your Garden here, and Soeur Perpétue, who is very Kinde to Me, teaches me how to Tende itt and the Fowles which are My Duty. Margerit is the new abbesse now, and does Well enough. Itt is the Abbaye of Marie-de-la-mer Once Again, and I am Gladde of itt. I am Learning to Read and Write with the Help of Soeur Perpétue. She is Very Patiente, and minds nott thatt I am Slow. This is the First Letter I have ever Writ, and I Pray You will Excuse My Mistakes. I will Send itt with the Players at Mardi Gras. I love You Juliette, and Little Flore. I Send You Newes too of Père Colombin. I hope itt is nott a Sinne to be Gladde of Whatt has Past. I wish You Happinesse Both,
Your Perett
Printed text, dated September 1610.
Rennes Roundhouse
MARVELOUS AND MOST DREADFUL TALE OF WITCHCRAFTE!
On This, Twenty-First Daye of August, at the Abbey of Sainte-Marie-Mère was Apprehended a most Fell Sorceror, Accused, Tried, and Found Guilty of Various Offenses against God and the Holy Church. Perporting to be a Holy Cleric, the Accused, Guy LeMerle, named The Blackbird, Was Found to be in League with the Forces of Darknesse, to Consort with Familiars in the Guise of Birdes and to Conjure Satan, Bewitching to Death Several Holy Sisters of the Abbey by Foulest Means, and Guilty of Various Poisonings and Acts of Foule Desecration in the Abbey. When Questioned the Wretch Confesst Most Wholeheartedly to the Crimes of which he was Accused, showing a Most Damnable Pride in his Actions and Refusing to Recant his Allegiance to the Prince of Evil, even under Interrogation. Guards left to Ensure the Prisoner’s Safety reported most Marvelous and Fearful Sights during that fateful Eve, whereby Familiars, taking Several Forms of Birde or Beaste, did Visit him in his cell and did Speak with him throughout the Nighte, Entreating him to fly with them from the Place, but to no Avail. The Prisoner was Kept Secure, the cell Being Blest by His Holiness the Bishop of Évreux, and Barred Thrice with Steele. On the Day of September Ninth Justice Will be Done in the Marketplace in the Presence of the Bishop, of Judge René Durant, and of the People of the Town. In the Name of God and of His Majesty, Louis Dieudonné.
Second printed text, dated September 1610.
Rennes
MOST MONSTROUS AND DAMNABLE TALE OF A VISITATION
On this, the Seventh Day of September in Rennes, the Criminal and Convicted Sorcerer Guy The Blackbird Effected a Daring and most Monstrous Escape from Confinement in the Roundhouse of this Town, Being in league with the Spirits and Forces of Witchcraft. At midnight Guards set to at the Gate to Keep Close Watch upon the Prisoner were Approached by a Cloak’d Female bearing a Lantern, who did warn them to Stand Backe, if they did value their Souls.
Then Guards, Philippe Legros and Armand Nuillot, did request the Name of the Strange Visitor and were at once render’d Powerless by Witchcrafte, and despite Prayers and Brave Resistance did fall as if Drugg’d upon the Grounde.
Whereby Trembling with Righteous Fear they Observed the Female enter the Roundhouse by Demonic Means and in the Companie of Various Imps and Familiars, and though not Rendered quite Insensible, were by this Strange and Hellish Magicke Prevented from all Interference.
The Female left the Roundhouse some short Time Later, followed by a Cloak’d Figure, closely Wrapt about, which did then Reveal itself as Guy LeMerle, throwing off its Disguise with Laughter and much Manifestation of Joy. The Witch then bestrode him a Pitchforke which had been left lying beside the Hay Stall and did Flye into the Air upon it, with many Mocking Cries to the Unfortunates Below, who did perceive various Spirits and Familiars in the guise of Birdes, Battes, and Owles, which did Join Him in his Flighte. Monseigneur the Bishop of Évreux will have it Known that Any Man with Knowledge of this Fellow, or of his Associates, should with all Speed Divulge this Knowledge, or any Suspicion which may be Had of his Whereabouts, that this Witch may be Brought to the Justice of God and the Church. A Reward of Fifty Louis is offered for any Such Information.
Well, I recall no familiars. Nor the mad flight upon the pitchfork. Doubtless the guards invented the rest to escape punishment. As for my part-yes, Perette, I was the Female with the lantern-I cannot explain it. And yet like you, I feel a reluctant gladness to know that he escaped. A vestige, perhaps, of my early loyalty, or a desire for an end to this long, long dream.
I had always known Giordano’s alchemies would serve me someday. The roundhouse, with its thick walls and barred windows, was far from certain, even for your explosive powders, but well placed, and with a fuse made from a length of powder twine leading to a central bolus, I felt sure it would serve my purpose. I approached the guards first, offered them ale and companionship, and picked their pockets neatly in the process. I could have cut their throats-the old Juliette might have done just that-but I wanted to avoid it if I could; I have seen too many cruelties to add to the number. As it was, the guards ran away the minute the powder blew: and my assessment of their cowardice led me to hope for at least two minutes before they returned.
LeMerle was still half asleep when I came into the cell, curled upon the straw with his ragged cloak around him. Better not to look at him, I told myself: simply leave the lantern and the keys and let him make his own way if he could. I saw him twitch like a wakening cat and turned to go, afraid perhaps that if I did not, then I might never find the courage to leave him again. But it was too late; he murmured something indistinct and held up his arm to shield his face, and, like Orpheus, I looked back.
Of course he had been tortured; I had expected it. I know what happens during interrogation. Even a full confession only counts under torture. His face, half-turned into the light, was a mask of filth and bruises. His raised hand was a talon, every finger broken.
“Juliette?” It was barely a whisper; barely a voice. “My God, what dream is this?”
I could not reply. Instead I looked at him on the floor on the roundhouse and I saw myself-in the cell in Épinal, and the cellarium of the abbey-and remembered how I had sworn eternal revenge, sworn I’d see him suffer. I felt a pang of surprise that the thought of his suffering did not satisfy me as once I had imagined it would.