“Father! Father!” yelled a young boy, racing across the churchyard.
“Easy, my child,” said Nathaniel Benn, smiling. “I can hear you quite well. Tell me what’s wrong?’
“It’s Old Maid Ethel. They say she’s a witch!”
“Ethel?”
“Yes, Father.” The boy frowned as he continued speaking, “I thought the only wizards around here were us and…”
“Russell!”
“Don’t worry, Father. There’s no one around.”
Nathaniel glanced around nervously before replying, “Yes, Ethel is a Muggle.”
“That’s what I thought, but Henry Stonehill went down to the inn and told half the town that Ethel is a witch. Mr. Stonehill says that they should burn her.”
Burn her! Nathaniel couldn’t believe it. He heard rumors of witch burnings across the countryside, but he had never imagined that such thing would come to his little village.
“Russell, listen to me,” Nathaniel ordered. “I want you to go home, straight home. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Then I want you to tell your father what you told me. He’ll know what to do. Go!”
Nathaniel watched as Russell took off running toward his home. At least, the boy would be out of trouble, Henry Stonehill on the other hand… Nathaniel shook his head, as a friar, he really shouldn’t be thinking those thoughts.
Brushing the dirt off of his cowl, Nathaniel started down the dirt road. The church, an inn, and six wooden houses lined the main road. Another twenty families lived in farms west of the village, four of which were Wizarding. Nathaniel lived in a cottage behind the church with William, a Squib, who served as the village’s gravedigger. The mix of Muggle and Wizarding families was what called Nathaniel to this place, to serve as a priest in addition to his own vows as a monk. Not that the work had been easy, most Wizards distrusted the Church and very few attended Mass.
As he walked, the houses gave way to a forest where Nathaniel kept his eyes open for a barely discernable dirt path which led to Ethel’s cottage. But there was no need for his attention, it would have been impossible not to miss the crowd of villagers that lined the path. As he worked his way through the crowd, he heard voices up ahead.
“I’m not a witch! I’m not a witch!”
“Remove your curse from my son!”
Pushing his way to the front, Nathaniel yelled, “Stop!”
The tall form of Henry Stonehill, who had been towering over Ethel Rosewood, turned to him. “Father Benn,” he said politely. “I have found a witch.”
“What proof do you have of this?”
“My son is sick, and I know why. It is this witch’s revenge for never having a husband or children of her own.”
As furious as he was at Henry for stirring up this trouble, Nathaniel’s heart went out to the man. His first three children had all died in infancy, and it looked like his youngest would join them. He could see how Henry had arrived at this conclusion, and he knew that he would have to tread carefully.
“I will investigate this,” Nathaniel said.
“You will investigate this?” Henry asked.
“Yes, it is my duty as a servant of Christ to insure that the devil does no harm here.”
Henry looked at him strangely. “What more do you need to investigate? She is a witch”
“Henry you’ve had a little too much to drink. Why don’t you go home and see what your wife has made you for dinner. I’ll handle Ethel Rosewood.”
“I will not wait while my son is dying. If you’re going to do something, do it now.”
Nathaniel sighed in frustration. He had no idea how he could convince Henry that Ethel wasn’t a witch without revealing the truth, which would only make things worse. Studying Ethel, it was clear she thought he was about to condemn him. “Stand,” he ordered.
Timidly, Ethel rose to her feet. Lord, help me save this woman, he prayed. Then his prayer gave him the answer he need. Nathaniel looked at Ethel and said, “Recite the Lord’s Prayer.”
Ethel stared at him fearfully, but didn’t speak.
“She can’t do it. Do you have you proof now, Father?” Henry taunted.
“Patience, give her some time,” Nathaniel replied, biting his lip nervously. He knew Ethel could say the prayer; he had heard her recite it many times.
Slowly, tentatively, she began speaking in a whisper. “Our Father, who art in heaven…”
“Speak up!” called a voice from the crowd.
“Hallowed be thy name.” Her voice was rising, becoming stronger as she continued, “Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”
Smiling, Nathaniel raised his hand to make the sign of the cross. “Ethel Rosewood, I bless you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen”
Nathaniel turned and addressed the crowd. “No witch can say those words. No witch would be able to stand there can receive a blessing. Ethel Rosewood is not a witch.”
Quietly, the crowd began to disperse, but Nathaniel had eyes only for one man. Henry looked around and knew that he had lost his case. He said as he left, “Father, for my son’s sake, I hope you are right.”
Allowing himself a sigh of relief, Nathaniel, too, began walking back down the path when a voice congratulated him. “Good work.”
Nathaniel looked into the kind blue eyes of the man who called out. “Aldwin.”
“Russell told me what was going on. Thank you for sending him home.”
“It isn’t good for a boy who doesn’t know how to control his magic to be out when the Muggles are seeing witches.”
“Gertrude’s worried. How we are going to be able to keep Russell away from the village until he leaves for Hogwarts, I don’t know.”
“Don’t worry. This should be the last talk we hear of witchcraft.”
It should have been the last they heard of witchcraft, but that all changed the night Nathaniel Benn was called on to do the Final Rites for Robert Stonehill.
Nathaniel watched as the little boy breathed his last. He spoke and tried to console the parents, but Henry was inconsolable. “Do you believe me yet, Father Benn?” Henry spat. “My fourth child sent to the grave. I will never see a child survive while that witch lives. My son is dead because that witch didn’t burn.”
Turning, Henry stormed out the door. Nathaniel called after him, “Henry…”
But when Nathaniel stepped out into the night’s air he saw Henry’s form galloping off on a horse into the horizon.
Edith Stonehill came and stood beside him, watching her husband ride off. “She’s going to burn.”
“Excuse me?” Nathaniel asked.
“Henry swore that if Robert died, he would go to the Inquisition.”
Oh, God.
“Are you sure?” Nathaniel whispered.
“Yes.”
“Thank you.” With those words, Nathaniel started home. As he approached the churchyard, he saw a flickering of light inside his cottage. Thanking God that William was still awake, he burst through the door calling, “William!”
“You don’t have to shout so loud, Father.”
“Go wake Aldwin. Tell him to gather the community.”
“What’s happening?”
“Henry’s sending for the Inquisition.”
Willaim’s face went white, and without another word set out on his task.
Within the next hour, five wizards and one Squib were gathered around Nathaniel’s table. “What are we going to do?” one asked.
“Stay out of their way. The Inquisition can’t harm us,” replied another.
Nathaniel interjected, “What if they condemn Ethel to death? She can’t save herself. I don’t know the spell, but some of you do.”
A wizard named Rufus answered, “And give the Muggles proof of our existence? I say that if they want to burn Ethel, we let them. The whole mess will quickly blow over.”
“What if we did save her?” someone asked. “What’s to stop her from telling the Inquisition about us?”
“I will not risk my life to save a Muggle,” stated another.
Nathaniel looked at Aldwin, his eyes pleading. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing from his fellow wizards.
Aldwin looked apologetic as he said, “I have family. It may be a sin, but I rather see Ethel burn than my son.”
The rest of the wizards nodded their agreement. They had agreed, they would wait and do nothing. They would let a Muggle burn.
Two days later Henry Stonehill rode back into town with an Inquisitor at his heels. Ethel was arrested, tried, and condemned to death. Three days later she burned. Still the Wizarding Community did nothing.
The night after Ethel burned, Nathaniel couldn’t sleep. “Damn you, Satan. I curse you. I curse you!
“How dare you turn into such coward? Making me stand silently while an innocent woman burns! Making my ears deaf to her cries!
“Curse you! Curse you!”
Nathaniel sunk to the ground weeping. “Oh, God,” he cried, “what have I become?”
Thy Will Be Done by Gonz
Chapter Notes: Thanks to the wonderful LucillaJoanna for being my Beta.