The Witchfinder

[BadForm]

1645. Knaresborough, Yorkshire, England. They day was as wet and unpleasant as ever an autumn day in the North of England could be. It wasn't raining, but there was a mist which soaked a body more thoroughly than any deluge could. The mist crawled through the houses of the township and even through the relative warmth of the castle. It matched the mood of the country. The parliamentarians had smashed Charles' armies in Naseby and Langport. Charles, it was said, was in flight, and in the royalist strongholds of the North, the panic had set in.

It was the witches. That was what the church had said. The witches who had cast spells and danced with the devil. The witches who had made deals with demons and betrayed the king. Already the terrified nation had been swept up in a pall of hatred and suspicion more blinding than the fog of gunfire. Nobody knew who they were or how to find them, except a select few. It was the witches, and the only solution to them was the witchfinders.

William Metcalfe silently cursed the Southerner, Hopkins. His fame was already widespread as the Witchfinder General, even this far North. While he, Metcalfe, was only now gaining fame in the ridings of Yorkshire. He had over forty proven witches to his credit so far, though, and that was enough to merit his acceptance in even the larger towns.

Before him stood the local priest, whatever his name was. He was a weakling, and easily cajoled into providing any assistance needed. He seemed more afraid of Witches than any priest Metcalfe had spoken to so far - the Mayor too. It had to be the massing armies of Cromwell. Behind Metcalfe stood his body guards and his assistant, who, if they were ever recorded in history at all, would be described as just as perverse as he himself.

"So, father," he said with a smirk. "You tell me you already have your suspicions as to who the witches are in this town?"


OOC: As yet, I do not know where this is going. It will probably not be pleasant, but who can tell... anyone up for it? Oh, and as to witches, while there may be debates about whether there really IS such a thing as magic, you can safely assume anyone CAUGHT by a witchhunter was probably NOT a witch in ANY WAY - so no victims casting fireballs etc.

 

[ARaynes]

Sarah Durham

Sarah sat looking out the window at her husband plowing. He was angry at her. Called her awful names he did. Telling her that she had done horrible things because she couldn't bare his child.

Tears streamed down her face. It wasn't her fault that God did not allow her to have children. She didn't ask for that. She wanted children. Plenty.

But they had been married ten years and yet they still did not have even one. Many of their close friends had three or even four, but not Sarah and Michael.

He even asked if she had dances with the devil. The kind of dances that only a husband should make to a wife. How obsurd. How could he think such a thing? To do that would make her a....She couldn't even allow herself to think the word.

She looked out the window, realizing he was about to come inside. She hurridly tried to prepare him some food, even a buisquit. He would see that she had sat there and done nothing and throw her around until she was sore and bleeding.

"SARAH!" He yelled as he hit the door. "Get me some dinner!" He yelled at her. Always yelling he was. Always.

She hurriedly through some food together, jerky and a busquit roll. Those would do him until she could cook him a warm meal. Or so she thought.

She set the plate down before him. "What is this?" He said, slapping the metal plate across the room. She jumped, though she was trying ever so hard not to. "And what do you mean to go about jumping. I don't aim to hurt you woman!"

"I.....I am sorry....Michael, please forgive me." She stammered, stooping a little to make herself look smaller. "I will cook you a warm meal."

She turned, a turn she would remember the rest of her life, as the urn he was drinking out of slapped across her face. She fell to the floor feeling the hot blood spill from the fresh wound. Again the urn was dropped on her. And again. She tried to cry out, "Stop!" But the words would not come.

 

[caspai]

Alexandria (Xan)

Her long satin skirts brushed the cobbles of the street as she walked. Her maid would be angry, but then, what were maids for? Were she to not give her jobs to do, maintaining her wardrobe, the lazy woman would just be off flirting with the footmen. Grinning at the thought of that, Xan lifted her skirts just high enough to keep them from sweeping the ground, but not high enough to even show the tops of her slippers. Propriety must be maintained at all times, of course. It was indeed a strange age when a woman could have her breasts falling out of her dress, but would be labeled a wanton were she to show the tiniest bit of ankle.

Sweeping down the street, head held high, she walked past a small group of cavaliers, and saw them look up in appreciation at her blonde hair and bright green eyes. She caught one nudging another, and when they saw her glance fall on them, they swept their hats off, and bowed deeply to her. Blushing slightly, she hurried on, but not before throwing a brief smile at them over her shoulder. Ah, if she didn't hurry, she would be late, and that would never do. Kip, her brother, would be ever so angry at her if she were late to church yet again. He would accuse her again of being too absorbed in her studies, and these days, that was a dangerous business.

 

[PhoenixPrime]

OoC: Mind if I play the hulking assistant?
If it's agreeable I'll post a description as he stands as the Witchfinder's shoulder listen to he and the priest and await witches to be "tested" with anticipation. After all the wages were all right, but it was the 'benefits' that kept him with the Witchfinder. *very evil smile*

 

[BadForm]

OOC: Quite happy to have you join in Phoenix, post away - I'll continue tomorrow - either if we have had a priest join by the time we log on or if we have not...

 

[PhoenixPrime]

OoC: Fine and thank you. I'll be up for a bit yet so and will post that description and if you wish npc the priest until one 'arrives'.
If the others wish and you agree I can continue a bit and think that they can become initially *nasty grin* 'invovled'.

 

[PhoenixPrime]

Witchfinder Metcalf's Assistant: Thomas Larch

In a time when most men were under 6' tall he had been considered a 'freak' all of his life. He'd passed 6' by the time he was 13 and when he'd finally stopped growing he was 6'7" tall and weighted nearly 280 pounds.
His family was poor and lived hand to mouth. His father took what work he could find and was doing hard manual labor as it could be found to help feed the family.
His size had made him the target of older and bigger bullies until he was big and strong enough to be able to beat them soundly. Then it stopped. His early good nature had fully soured by then and he only cared about surviving until he could get out of the hamlet.
His father was able to indenture him to the local blacksmith working 10-12 hours a day at very hard labor. The work built muscles upon muscles and soon he was the strongest teenager, hell man, in the shire.
His father died when he was 16 and his mother shortly after of the 'coughing sickness'. The other children were parcled out to the meger family, but as he worked he was left on his own. Now he slept at the smith as there was no longer a home.
When he hit the 'ripe old age' of 17 he'd had enough of working like a slave for next to nothing.
One night he broke into the strong box, helped himself to what he felt he had truly earned and walked out of the hamlet never to return.
He arrived at a city in Yorkshire (OoC: No atlas handy and no idea of a name, especially in the 1600's)
There was no work to be found and he doled out his money carefully so it would last. He lived in the slums, found out about bars... and women shortly thereafter. However there were few of them as he was proportionately large or huge depending on your point of view.
For sex he turned to rape and few survived so there was no one to report his rapes.
He fell in with a some criminals as their muscle and his cut of the swag gave him an income.
This continued until he reached his mid twenties. That's when a
drunken toff made the mistake of insulting him, called him a giant freak and, in a fit of rage, he killed him with a single punch.
There were witnesses, the local watch was called and he was beaten unconcious taking several along to that state with him.
He awoke in goal, was tried and convicted and sentenced several years in prison.
He ruled the other prisoners by virtue of his size, ready brutality. He'd found out that he liked hurting people during the rapes. It excited him sexually (OOC:today a sadist) so any excuse to inflict pain was welcomed.
That is where Witchfinder Metcalf found him when he started on his career.
They talked and Metcalf found he was intelligent just unschooled and, just what he was looking for, a burtal man.
Metcalf bribed the warden and he became the first body guard/assisant. They've been together since sharing their tastes and enjoying Metcalf's growing power and influence, which of course rubbed off on his assistant.

He's standing in ill fitting clothes and a large rain slicker. He has a soft wide brimmed hat, full black beard and shoulder length hair and very cold, piercing black eyes. He also has numerous scars, some visible and some not, collected over the years and a broken nose, that was never set, from the last childhood bully.

 

[BadForm]

William Metcalf

Metcalfe watched the priest who, despite being a good three inches taller than him, looked as though he were three feet smaller. The man was cowering, and not, Metcalfe noticed, from his hulking assistant, Larch. No, he was like many a priest - in awe and in fear of the witchfinders themselves. That was the way of it, they were never sure just who the witchfinders would turn their eye of suspicion on. Even priests had occassionally been found to be witches.

"Th-there are two ladies of the parish of note, sir," he said nervously. "Th-the one is Sarah Durham, w-wife of the farmer Michael Durham. S-she is childless despite her h-husbands best efforts... h-he asked me if it was dev-devilment and...umm..."

The priest's shrug made Metcalfe suppress a sneer. Was the man such a fool? Could it truly be that the priest had so little knowledge of the ways of the flesh that he could think of no other answer. Still, that mattered not. Metcalfe would look for marks that she was a witch, and he would find them. He always did. There was always some mark that would prove on testing to be a devil's teat. Either that or the woman would confess under examination. That was enough to convict them and then they would hang... or burn depending on the will of the church and the lords of the area.

"Aye, father," said Metcalfe, "Oft 'tis the little thing which betray the devils work. It may be that he is keeping this woman to bear his own child... and now, the other woman of whom you spoke?"

The priest looked down at his desk, unable to meet the eyes of the witchfinder. He was shaking, terrified perhaps of the accusation he was about to make.

"The Lady Alexandria, sir. S-she is the daughter of one of the nobility... I-I hesitate to make this accus-accusation, sir, but her brother has been heard to rage about the dark st-study she conducts, sir. Umm... if-if he is r-right..."

That was dangerous. Certainly it was possible, and very profitable, to find witches amongst the nobility, but it was something that had to be done carefully. To let evidence be revealed which would then show the accused as a witch, would allow a trial to be conducted, to simply make an accusation would be a sure way to be executed. However, everyone knew that the witchfinders were conducting God's work, and so one of the best ways to 'find' a witch among the nobility was to let them hear the screams and see if they objected.

"The Lady Alexandria is housed at the castle?" Metcalfe asked.

The priest nodded.

"Then I shall use the castle dungeon's to try the farmer's wife. Have her brought to me there on the morn. It is unlikely that the Lady is a witch, and more likely her brother is a hothead, but rest assured, father, with the good work I shall carry out there, if she is a witch then her presence as such will be shown."

I walked from the room without another word, knowing that my wish to use the dungeon would be granted.

OOC: If you guys want to write what happens before the evening - including your arrest, AR, then feel free. Then lets move it to the castle dungeons.

 

[ARaynes]

Sarah Durham

Sarah felt her hair being pulled making her try hard to stand. "Please, Michael." She said bringing herself to her feet.

"You will make me some food, dammit! Now, or else." His spat at her throwing her inches from the hearth. Her head hurt where her head had been hit, but she knew that if she didn't get to her feet and start cooking he would do worse damage.

She stood, taking the knife in her hand and began to cut potatos. They didn't have much for food, the crops were not that well the year before, but she managed with what they had.

Soon she had a good pot of venison stew boiling over the fire. An hour later, she was ladling it into his bowl. The events after that went as usual. He ate, then sat and read from the bible that he put his faith in so well, then made sure they went to bed together.

She felt his hot breath on her as he licked and kissed her neck. "Make me a child woman!" he demanded as his hot member tore into her flesh. It was as if he thought that a woman could just "get pregnant" and deliver a child apon command. She secretly wished she could.

The next morning was when it all happened. She had just set the eggs in front of him, he'd only taken a bite when he through the plate at her, hitting her once again. She didn't know where it started, but something in her just snapped. She tossed the plate back, the metal hitting his head and then makeing him bleed, "Don't you dare curse me again Michael Durham. So help me I will kill you if another thing flies out and hits me. I hate you. You hear? I hate you!"

She had yelled those words, loud enough for several houses near by to hear. He clutched at his chest, shock written on his face. She had never yelled at him, or anyone in all her life. He fell to the floor. She rushed to him. "Michael, what is wrong? Please? Whaaat is it?" She cried to him.

"The............devil." he said, before dying. There was a knock on the door in mere seconds of his last words. "Sarah Durham. The church has orders to see you."

 

[caspai]

Xan

Rushing up the steps to the church, Xan found Kip there waiting for her. Biting her lip to keep from saying something about his lack of trust in her, she gave him her sweetest smile as she quickly, too quickly, put her hands behind her back to hide her reticule.

"Let me have it, Xan. I know you have something in there that isn't appropriate for church. Now what is it?"

Frowning, she hands him her bag, and as he opens it, she smiles at him again. Pulling out the ornate silver covered prayer book, he is about to put it back into the purse when something stopped him. Her breath catches as he opens the cover to look at it. Rather than finding the expected prayer book, he finds the most recent addition to her small library: A Complete Historye of Herbes and Theyre Uses.

"Xan, why do you do this to me? To us? Don't you know that the very walls have eyes? It just isn't seemly for a Lady in your position to be studying so much. And such subjects as well! Why can't you be like every other girl and keep to sewing and cooking?"

"Kip, dear, if you are so worried about the walls having eyes, why don't you spend less time with your doxies and more time at home? Then you wouldn't have to wait on the steps of the church to search my person before allowing me to enter. If the walls have eyes, you are the one showing them what I am reading, not me. And as for the prayers, they haven't changed once in my entire life. I know them all, so why should I need a book to tell me what the words are?"

Kip shoves the book back into her bag, but doesn't hand it back to Xan. As she makes a grab for the bag, he roughly pulls her by the arm, practically dragging her into the church behind him. Sitting her roughly in the pew, he planted himself next to her and gave her no other choice than to sit, bored, through the entire service.

 

[BadForm]

William Metcalf

"Yes, Master Metcalfe, certainly. If there is ought I can do for you..."

Knaresborough was a fearful noble, and happy to have the witchfinder stay with him, to root out the witches who appeared to be damning the armies to oblivion. He was not the only noble living at the castle, and felt the presence of this man, this Executioner from God, could only help strengthen his position. The dungeons below were strongly built and it was right that they be used for this purpose. To hold such trials in the town would invite an unseemly public spectacle.

That night, Metcalfe and Larch dined with the troops and slept in anl antechamber off the dungeon. It wasn't much, but it was sufficient for their needs. The next morning would bring the first trial in the town, that of the farmer's wife, Sarah Durham. The first trial, and the first conviction.

 

[PhoenixPrime]

..

 

[PhoenixPrime]

Thomas Larch:

OOC: I apologize for presuming too much in my last post part was relative inexperience on this format and part was I hadn't seem AR's post. I think we were both writing and the same time and her post beat mine.
Here is the revision now that I've read AR's post. *s* PP

IC:

After the priest made his accusations, Witchfinder Metcalf turned to me and said, "Mr. Larch, please get directions from the priest, take two with you and bring the accused witch to the castle.
"I know I don't have to remind you Mr. Larch, but if she fights or seems to be casting you are to deal with it as is needed but with the minimum force.
"She must be in good condition for the testing."

"Yes Mr. Metcalf. Right away sar."

Directions were gotten easily. All it took was turning my head toward the cowering priest, who had listened to all, and frowning.
He stammered out directions on how to find Sara Durham's house.

"Jackson, Fields come with me," I said. Turning I mounted and walked the horse toward the 'witch's house'.

As we are approaching the door of the witches house, I heard a woman's shouts coming from inside threatening to kill 'Michael'.

There was no knock. I thew the door open and ducked inside. A woman was standing looking down at a man on the floor. He gasped out, "The.... devil" and apparently died. She was rushing to his said crying out, "Michael, what is wrong? Please? Whaaat is it?".

"Witch you've killed him!", I shouted as I strode toward her.

 

[ARaynes]

Sarah Durham

The events around her husbands death had happened fast. What was she going to do now? The man walked closer to him, thinking she had killed her husband. After all, she had hadn't she?

She rushed to the man putting her hands on his shirt. "Please Sar, help him. My husband, he is dying. Save him."

She fell to her knees, holding tight to her arms. "Oh, Lord, save him." She allowed herself to be taken by the man, no longerable to fight back.

 

[PhoenixPrime]

Thomas Larch:

"Is dying witch. He is dead. Look his chest doesn't move. He's not breathing," I said as I reached her.

She said, ""Oh, Lord, save him." The words were hardly out of her mouth when my shout filled the room.

"Your lord! None of that witch! You won't summon Satan to kill more men for you!!!"

My hand wrapped around her upper arm and jerked her to her feet. My other hand cupped her jaw in a well practiced manner, held it closed and covered her mouth.

"Jackson get the brank. This witch will not summon the Devil nor cast any spells with it on and in place.
"Fields go to the neighbors. Get the names of any who heard the witch say she would kill 'Michael' and bring them all here. Have them wait outside. We want witnesses to all that was heard and to what happed to this poor man who said, "The...devil" with his dying breath.

When I'd finished speaking Jackson answered, "Aye. Right away Master Larch," and ran out the door.

Fields replied, "Right away Master Larch," and followed on Jackson's heels.

Alone with the strumpet I said quietly, Ya've been accused of witchcraft woman. Now whatcha've done, yer words have tried and convicted ya. All that remains is your confession to witchcraft and summoning the Devil to do this foul deed. And witch ya will confess be sure of that."

As I said the last, the hand on her arm moved to a full and heavy tit and squeezed as an example of what was in store. I squeezed and twisted it as I awaited Jackson and the brank.

I could feel my cock beginning to swell now that the witch was under control and helpless, just the way I liked them and the way this strumpett felt like she'd be a long time being tested and confessing I thought with a low, evil chuckle.

OOC: Shall I continue npc'ing Jackon and Fields or would you BF?

 

[ARaynes]

Sarah Durham

Sarah was in his arms, limp. She didn't care any longer. He was right, her husband was dead, but had she killed him? Surly her words could not have made him die.

She watched as the other men left and waited for their return. If they killed her then the Lord would have said that she had killed her husband. If he spared her life, then she would know that she hadn't killed him. She in fact was not working with the devil.

 

[BadForm]

William Metcalfe

OOC: Jackson and fields are characters you created, feel free to continue running them, phoenix.

IC: With his companions out finding the farmer's wife, Metcalfe occupied himself with checking the dungeon and his own equipment there. A fire burned in a fireplace on one wall. Various branding irons were racked near it. Two tables and a rack occupied much of the bare, dirty stone floor. There was a lot of other equipment around too, thumbscrews, whips, a boot etc, and in his pocket his sheath of bodkins for pricking the victim and seeking out the witch's teat, where she gave suck to the devil. It was said that such teats were without the sensation of pain, and thus by pricking the witch with a bodkin, a witchfinder could locate these damning marks. Of course, when no confession came forward, I always did find the marks. Even if I had to rely on my retractable bodkin.

Metcalfe took a seat beside a table and waited, impatiently for his next victim. The familiar tightness was there at the front of his pants as he was aroused by the imagined images of a woman in pain.

 

[caspai]

Lady Alexandria

Xan ended up spending the entire church service with Kip watching over her. Christopher, her brother, really did love her, and worried over her a great deal. She felt badly that she caused him so much trouble, she knew that all of his friends considered her to be rather odd. She always had her nose in a book, or was poking through the garden behind the castle, asking the cook what this or that herb was used for. Such things were not the concerns for Ladies, Kip would say with a frown. She should spend more time worrying about finding a good husband, and less time whether valerian or chamomile was more useful to ease a person to sleep and away from troubled dreams.

The news spread through the castle very quickly. A witchfinder had come to town, and already a woman from the village, Sarah Durham, had been arrested. They said that she had killed her husband. They said that she had been found with her very hands wrapped around his neck. They also said that she had been caught fornicating with the devil, and then flew around the room on her broom, laughing maniacly, so she tended to doubt most of what was being said about her. She would be kept in the dungeons under the castle, so it was possible that I could try to see her. She had never met her before, but Janey, her maid, said that her parents lived right next to the Durham's. Personally, Xan thought that the entire business dealing with finding witches was rediculous superstition. Sound reason was far more useful than superstition.

Hurrying up the cold steps and into the dark castle, Xan wrapped her cloak around her, feeling a sudden chill speed down her back. If there were a witchfinder in town, one thing was sure. One way or another, a witch would be found.

 

[PhoenixPrime]

Thomas Larch:

My hand fondled and squeezed, but she gave on sign she felt even the pain. Either that or she didn't care. Perhaps, as has happened in the past, she had withdrawn to her mind. Master Metcalf had first explained that to me when I'd started with him. He also assured me that in time, with all but the most stubborn, that ended and the screams began. Those that didn't resond were obviously 'witches', as I heard him explain at trial, "the Devil was protecting her from the testing. Proof she was indeed a witch," and that always led to her either hanging, burning or whatever the death the church deemed appropriate.

Hearing Jackson entering again I gave her tit a final squeeze digging my fingers deeply into it and twisting it cruelly.

He entered bearing the brank, saw what was happening, smiled and asked, "Master Larch is she a good 'un?"

I looked at him over her head, gave him a wicked smile as I twisted her tit side to side and pulled on it while grinding my crotch against 'er saying, with a most wicked smile, "Ohhhh aye Jackson. A very good one indeed. The testing will be most enjoyable indeed."

His smile matched mine as he said, "Very good sar. 'eer's the brank sar."

"When I pull 'er mouth open put the piece in and hold the the witch as I set the frame and tighten all."

"Aye, I'll do 'er sar."

My hand left her tit, a final brutal twist, and moved to her forehead. I pulled her head back against me, immobilizing it and dug my finger tips into her jaw. Then I slowly pulled down to open it as widely as possible, being careful it wasn't pulled out of joint. That wouldn't do. It would be a visible sign of injury.

Jackson slid the metal piece into her mouth and began to turn the nut to open it. The metal jaws began to spread apart slowly, the little points getting closer and closer to her tongue and the roof of her mouth. Finally it was firmly in place. Now she was unable to utter a word, just make unintelligible sounds and drool. He grabbed one arm and the opposite tit to hold her in place and began squeezing the tit, kneading it with slitted eyes and a small smile.

"I've got her now sar if'n ya wants ta do the frame."

I set the frame on either side of her head, the bottom resting on the her muscles between shoulders and her neck and locked it in place. The threaded shaft of the brank stuck out through the hole in front and spun down the nut nice and tight so that the pull on the open brank and it's little points now firmly in place. It could be used for more than silencing and punishing nagging wives.

The harness was buckled under her arms and around her chest very tightly. Finally I screwed down the plate so it it pressed on the top of her head pulling up on the harness. Now it was tightly in place and without the key to open the lock couldn't be removed.

Fields stood in the door watching as those he'd gather tried to see past him. There was only a low murmur from them as they waited and watched.

 

[BadForm]

William Metcalfe

OOC: Unless I am much mistaken, you are still at AR's house, so I cannot write much yet, but I'll carry on waiting in character.

IC: Larch was almost too enthusiastic an assistant, Metcalfe considered. He didn't have the ability to talk with nobility like he, Metcalfe, did, otherwise Larch would already have been in business for himself. He had taken the brank with him when he had gone to pick up the witch. It was one of Larch's favorite toys, and his was one of the more cruel ones. Metcalfe just hoped he hadn't got too enthusiastic with it. Once, he had pierced their victim's tongue so badly it was impossible for her to speak - the interrogation had been a shambles and it was only when he had presented the victim's babbling as 'devil-talk' that he had found a way to convince the nobles she was guilty as charged.

Metcalfe grabbed a pail of cold, brackish water and wiped his face. The waiting was the worst bit, not because of any fear of what was to come, but rather because he hated being delayed. Well, hopefully Larch would have found something damning as he arrested the woman. That always gave extra leverage for the interrogation.

 

[PhoenixPrime]

Thomas Larch:

OOC: You're correct. Well, so you can interact as you wait, why not take either Fields or Johnson and I'll continue with the other.

 

[BadForm]

William Metcalfe

OOC: Xan, can we have a family name for your noble family please?

IC: It occurred to him as he was sitting there waiting, the quickest way to ensure Lady Alexandria came to trial. It was so simple he kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner. Then he stood and marched out into the castle to find her father.

"My Lord," he said, bowing as he found the man. "I come bearing ill news."

When the man had seen Metcalfe, he had been worried, now he seemed terrified. "Wh-what is it?"

"I have received word of the gravest kind."

"What is it, Man?"

"I have been told that your very own daughter is suspected of witchcraft." That was the statement that could easily cost him his life if he did not work the situation well. "I would, of course, dismiss this and instead try the reporter, believing it to be a trick of the devil himself to besmirch your good name. Unfortunately..." he let the word hang in the air a second. "Unfortunately, my Lord, it was the priest who told me of this, and he reported word of your own son's suspicions."

The man didn't look like he knew whether to be furious and terrified or both. His face twitched as he tried to work out what to say. To accuse his daughter was tantamount to treason, that it was his own son who had done so was the most distressing thing he had ever heard.

"Obviously, my Lord," breathed Metcalfe, enjoying himself now. "I have no desire to try your daughter as a witch. I believe your son's words are the jealous words of a brother for a sister and as such it is in your power to discipline him. However, it is also within the remit of my work for the Lord our God to ensure all witches are exposed, and therefore I beg your indulgence.

"There is a way, my Lord, to prove your daughter is innocent without putting her on trial. There is, as you know, a suspect being brought here for trial. I believe your daughter's innocence can easily be proven by allowing me to use her as an assistant in the trial. This is as much proof as the trial itself, as no ally of the devil would ever assist in such work of God, yet nobody who allied themselves with the Lord could ever oppose it."

He had one more objection to make and Metcalfe anticipated it before it even crossed his mind.

"Now I know, my Lord, that this work is unpleasant and not usually the work of women. However, in these circumstances I know that the Lord would wish to prove the Lady Alexandria so. There are several precedents in the bible where women have conducted the work of the Lord, so I know we are doing the right thing here. I understand it will be unpleasant for her, but sometimes the work of the Lord is so, and still it is the only way to righteousness."

He saw the noble nod in resignation and turned on his heels to return to the cells.

"Thank you, my lord," he said. "Have the Lady Alexandria attend the dungeons when she returns from church. That she is willing to assist throughout the trial will prove her innocent, for only the guilty would object."

 

[caspai]

Xan

OOC:
Will Lady Alexandria Bardwell do? *laugh* sorry about that. Names are always the most difficult part of a character for me.

~Cas

 

[BadForm]

OOC: That's fine, and feel free to rp Lord Bardwell's conversation with his daughter. Lord Bardwell is a free-for-all utilitarian npc to be pushed around and used to make things move forwards.

 

[caspai]

OOC:
What are daddies for if not to be pushed around by daughters? I know I did mine, and my daughter does hers...*laugh*