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IV.
Hammer of Witches</h1>

Gaviota,
California 2030
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Brother
Tomas the monk wore a coarse habit of black broadcloth with a belt of
elegant but simple gold-line rope. Light poured into his
study hall through a stained glass window which showed Jesus
chastising the money lenders in the temple. The savior held a whip
and was beating one of their number as angels looked on approvingly.

Gaviota
Monastery was a majestic eminence on the last stretch of otherwise
undeveloped California coastline. The
room itself
was
spare, furnished with only one long table and bookshelves along the
walls. At one end was a book stand originally intended for the Holy
Bible. It had been re-purposed, and now supported a yellowed tome, a
rare printing of the ill-famed Malleus
Maleficarum. (This
translates
as
“Hammer
of Witches”.)
It
was the
ancient church's guide to the suppression of witchcraft, written by
the insane inquisitor Heinrich Kramer. He wrote with rage
and bitterness directed
against all women. His animus was, however, largely driven by anger
over
the acquittal of one
woman in particular – accused
witch Helena Scheuberin.

The
Kramer text condemned
women for allegedly
being
subject to corruption by the Devil. Father
Augustus,
current
abbot
of Gaviota
monastery,
deliberately
put the
obsolete
relic
there upon the Bible stand. To
his mind, Helena
Scheuberin
was
guilty as charged, Kramer was a genius, and the Maleficarum
deserved
restoration
to
the prestige it had once enjoyed in Christendom. The monk Tomas did
not agree with this
opinion
of his abbot, but he didn’t
argue, for it was forbidden for a man of the cloth to quarrel with
his superiors. 


<font

face="Garamond, serif">Even
had he been inclined to disputation,
the monk was in no position to engage intellectual battle. He
was under
quarantine, ravaged
by fever, and he knew death was near. The pain had become unbearable,
he had no effective
medicine,
no hope of recovery. There was only a choice between day after day of
suffering in his last hours, or the quiet sleep of death. He prayed
and wept and prayed some more until he finally chose the latter. Yes,
death would bring peace, death would bring solace and the company of
saints. Or so he hoped.

Two
clean,
shiny
new
syringes lay upon the night stand. Each was loaded with 2 milligrams
of fentanyl – as much as would fit on the tip of a pencil.
According to his calculations there would be no need for the second
dose.

***

Jörg
Spiess, knight
and nobleman,
lay
sick upon his bed. It was Palm Sunday 1485; he was not able to attend
church and hoped a deacon would come and give him communion. He was
attended by his doctor, the noted Italian physician who had worked
with Dr. Michael Servetius in pioneering research on the heart. 


“You
must stay away from this woman Helena. The inquisitor has a feverish
interest in her and you will surely fall into his net if you don’t
stay away from
her.”

“Good
doctor, a man must follow his heart. If I was not bedridden I would
dispatch that inquisitor to the depths of Hell where he surely
belongs.”

“Jörg
I can’t tell you what to do when you are well but I can tell
you that you are not well enough now to go out into town. Once you
recover, do as you must.”

Neither
of the two realized that across town court was in session and Helen
Scheuberin was in the docket, charged with using
the dark arts of magic to make
the noble knight
Jörg
fall ill. Had she not cursed the inquisitor? Had she not spit and
denounced him as a false prophet and a liar? How could any court not
find her demonstrably guilty by virtue of these undisputed facts?

And
yet the city government found cause to grant her bond and here she
now sat head held high as Kramer sought to prove that she was in
league with the denizens of Lucifer. 


“Woman,
did you not have in your possession a collection of herbs, herbs
known to be used for the dark arts?”

Kramer
riveted his eyes upon the defendant.

“I
know not of what you speak. I have only the spices every cook has in
their kitchen. Sage, parsley, salt. Do you not yourself consume these
very things, inquisitor?”

“I
am the one asking the questions here woman.”

Kramer
paused for an inordinate amount of time. The judge wasn’t
having it. 


“Counselor
do you have further questions?”

“Yes
your Excellency. I do.” Turning to Helena Scheuberin, he
continued.

“Did
you not have in your possession Spanish Needle and withania?”

“I
don’t know what those are.”

Kramer
turned towards the bailiff.

“Exhibit
A, good sir.”

The
bailiff produced two jars. Each was labeled – Exhibit A,
Exhibit B.”

“<font

face="Garamond, serif">Madame
Scheuberin is this not Spanish Needle?”

“I
don’t know what that is. I don’t recognize it. I have a
maid. Sometimes she buys things at market which she puts in soup. To
me, that just looks like a random green. Some kind of celery.”

“I
will remind you that lying to the court will only make things worse
for you. This is Spanish needle. Isn’t it true that this is
used by witches to perform abortions?”

A
gasp went up in the courtroom. 


“I
have no idea what you are talking about. This is a green vegetable
you are waving around. I don’t see that as having anything to
do with demons and witches and abortions. I think you are out of your
mind.”

A
titter went up among the spectators. The judge intervened again. 


“The
court admonishes the defendant. You are not to insult or make
aspersions as to the character of the prosecutor.”

Kramer
glowed with an inner light. He felt victory was close. 


“So
you are lying to the court and you were in possession of a known
abortifactant. Bailiff – Exhibit B.”

The
other container was produced. Kramer pulled a handful of leafy stalks
out and held them in front of the defendant. 


“Is
this not withania? Is this not also a demonic preparation…”

“The
good Lord made every plant for us for healing and to eat. It says
this in the Bible. Don’t you read the Bible Mister Inquisitor?”

Now
the spectators broke out in over laughter. The inquisitor seemed
stuck. Then he turned white with rage and started shaking, as if
possessed.

“How
dare you! It is not for a layperson to quote the Bible. Much less a
woman. And much less a witch!” 


The
prosecutor turned to the judge.

“The
impudence of this woman to cite the Bible to me, a learned man of the
cloth who has studied at the Vatican. This alone shows her guilty
conscience. I move this honorable court for a directed verdict of
guilty.”

The
judge did not betray his mind. With a blank expression he queried the
prosecutor.

“Is
this your case in full”

“Yes
your Honor.”

“Defendant
do you have anything further to say in your own defense.”

Helena
Scheuberin simply nodded her head.

“Defendant
declines any further statement. I will take the evidence under
consideration. I will not make a decision at this time. The defendant
and prosecutor may read my decision which will be posted on the court
bulletin board and issued to the town crier within two days.”




With that, he gaveled out and left for his chambers. Kramer looked
extremely dejected. He expected the defendant to be dragged off in
chains, and the fact that the judge was reserving decision indicated
that an acquittal was likely.

At
noon the next day, a notice was posted and the town crier announced
the court’s decision with more than the ordinary amount of
zeal. Kramer was
dining when the crier went past his quarters. The inquisitor was so
upset he threw his plate down on the floor and stormed back to his
room and shoved his chattels into his trunk. He commanded the valet
to summon his driver. By sundown, he was on his way back to the
Vatican, utterly humiliated, vowing revenge against all who dared
question the Church. 


 



 
 



 



Chapter Five: Pending 

 


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©
2022 – 2023 Geof Bard

 


<a name="475e"></a>
This
is Chapter Four
 of
Anthropocene Memoir: Ghost of the Forgotten Snows, an installment
novel by Geof Bard. 


Earlier
versions of chapters 1-3 first published on <a href="https://medium.com/@geofbard/anthropocene-memoir-ghost-of-the-forgotten-snows-d4b6bd5d3276">Medium</a>.
<a name="c321"></a>
 
 



 


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