The Trial of Goody Weekes
“Call for silence, please,” the visiting town magistrate instructed his acting clerk, Jerimiah Welsh.
Welsh did not need any further encouragement. “Silence!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “Magistrate Clemence Fortescue is ready to try the witch!”
The townsfolk who had gathered for the trial immediately fell silent.
Clemence Fortescue leaned over his desk and signalled for his clerk to come forward, so that no one else could hear what he had to say to him.
“It is not appropriate for us to call the accused a witch just yet, Jerimiah,” he whispered, “perhaps after the trial once a decision has been reached, but not before.”
Jerimiah tugged his forelock and bowed his head in apology. He had always dreamed of acting as a magistrate’s clerk and he knew that
