devilstone chronicles 01 - devils band (7 page)

Thomas watched impassively as the white robed, black-capped judges took their seats on the bench. He didn’t recognise most of the learned men who were to sit in judgement upon him but he couldn’t fail to identify the man in red robes who occupied the central seat. It was Cardinal Wolsey. In his capacity as Lord Chancellor, Wolsey normally sat in the Court of Chancery, which heard civil rather than criminal cases, but no one would
question the right of Henry’s chief minister to preside over a different court, especially in a case of treason, if he wanted. Once seated, Wolsey carefully adjusted the scarlet cardinal’s robes that he habitually wore, even when sitting as a secular judge.

Fearing the worst, Thomas looked around the court to see if an advocate had been appointed to help him plead his case but no one approached the bar where he stood. In that moment, he knew he had no friends in Westminster save the lice that infested his skin. Only these bloodsucking vermin would be glad to see their host spared the gallows so if he were to stand any chance of speaking in his own defence, he had to seize the initiative. Realising he was about to plead for his life, Thomas took a deep breath, spread his arms wide and spoke like Cato in the Roman senate demanding that Carthage must be destroyed.

“My Lords I must protest, My treatment at the hands of the king’s officers has been outrageous, I’ve been assaulted, refused an attorney and given no time to prepare my case. Does the king know of the injustices being committed in his name? Is our Sovereign Lord Henry a foreign tyrant or a King of England sworn to uphold the rights and privileges of free born Englishmen?” said Thomas. He spoke in a strong, clear voice and the crowd were delighted by the prisoner’s pugnacious courage. They cheered and applauded Thomas loudly but the cardinal, whose face had turned as red as his scarlet robes, exploded with rage.

“Silence traitor! You’re not permitted to speak in this court save to answer the lawful questions asked by your prosecutors,” Wolsey boomed.

“I may not speak in my defence? Even Pilate did not deny our Lord Jesus the chance to defend himself,” said Thomas.

“Our Lord’s name must not be allowed to pass through the lips of a traitor, heretic and necromancer, only an attorney may speak on his behalf,” cried a white haired judge, covering his ears like an apothecary who fears the mandrake’s screams.

“But I’ve not been allowed to engage an attorney,” insisted Thomas.

“Have you the money to pay an attorney?” Wolsey asked and Thomas shook his head. “Then the prisoner will remain silent or he will be removed and his case tried in absentia. The clerk will now read the charges.”

Wolsey waved his hand and a shrivelled old scribe, who sat hunched behind a small desk below the King’s Table, began to read from a parchment.

“Thomas Devilstone, formerly of the parish of Dilston in the Franchise of Tynedale,” intoned the clerk, “you are hereby charged with the grave and heinous crimes of heresy, necromancy and high treason contrary to laws of God and your king. The details thereof are …”

The clerk paused to clear his throat.

“… That firstly, on numerous occasions, you did summon demons from the deepest pits of hell to instruct you in the black arts of the warlock and aid you in your treason against your lawful king Henry Octavius. Secondly that in summoning said demons you committed the most serious acts of blasphemy and sacrilege against the Holy Name of our Blessed Saviour the Lord Jesus Christ. Thirdly, that by
summoning said demons you have shown that you hold the most dangerous and heretical views contrary to the wisdom of Holy Mother Church. Fourthly…”

By now Thomas had stopped listening but the clerk continued to list the prisoner’s alleged offences, including the precise times and dates when he’d summoned the servants of Beelzebub. In his flat monotone, which somehow made the crimes seem more lurid, the clerk described how Thomas had danced with the five legged beast
Buer
when the sun was in the house of Sagittarius, cavorted with the four headed demon
Asmodeus
when the sun was in Aquarius and so on. As each President of Hell was named, the crowd gasped whilst the judges crossed themselves and muttered silent prayers lest their souls be imperilled by merely hearing the demons’ blasphemous titles. Thomas even glimpsed a judge kissing one of the amulets he’d made several months ago.

“These are your crimes,” said the clerk, “how do you plead?”

“I will not dignify such an outrageous abuse of the king’s justice with a plea. I freely admit that I’ve studied the wisdom of the ancients but only to aid the king in his search for an heir, no more and no less. If this be treason than call me traitor!” Thomas declared. Again the crowd cheered and again the cardinal was not amused.

“Enter a plea of not guilty and call the witness,” Wolsey muttered to the clerk who obediently wrote in his ledger and gestured to an usher standing in the corner of the courtroom. The usher opened a door in the partition and an apple cheeked, buxom, young maiden entered the court.

“Stand there and take the oath,” said the usher pointing to the far corner of the King’s table. The girl did as she was told and stared demurely at the floor as she mumbled her promise to tell the truth before God.

“State your name witness,” said the cardinal.

“They call me Joan of Cheapside,” the girl said sweetly. Cheap is the word, thought Thomas.

“Are you engaged in honest work?” Wolsey added kindly.

“I am, my father died of the sweating sickness some years back so I help my mother keep our shop. We sell gloves and ever so nice they are. We only use the very best calf and kid skin so they’re even worthy of such noble hands as yours My Lord,” said the girl and she ended her advertisement with a little curtsy. Thomas rolled his eyes to heaven.

He’d heard of the professional ‘men of straw’ who strolled between the courts of Westminster Hall with a corn stalk in their shoe to show their willingness to bear false witness but he’d never dreamed there were also women of straw. He wondered how much the trollop had been paid to perjure herself but it must have been a pretty penny for Joan of Cheapside seemed to be an accomplished liar. Having won the judges’ hearts with the story of her tragic childhood, she fluttered her eyelashes and brushed her flaxen hair from her face at exactly the right moments to beguile the jurymen.

“Mistress Joan,” said Wolsey kindly, “please tell the court exactly what you observed on the night of St Joseph’s day last.”

“Well your honour,” said the girl, “I went to the common beyond Aldgate looking for mushrooms. It was just before dawn, that’s the best time for mushrooms, and I saw a very queer light coming from behind some hawthorn trees. I was afraid but something drew me towards that coppice. When I got to the trees, and saw what was going on, I wanted to run away as fast as my legs would carry me but I was as helpless as a pet bird tied by a thread. Oh sir, please don’t make say any more, it was so horrible I can’t bear to speak of it.”

Joan gave a little sob to lend weight to her calumny and the crowd gave a deep sigh of sympathy for the innocent maiden’s plight.

“You must go on my dear, your God and your king command it,” said Wolsey pressing his fingers together in a gesture of quiet meditation. The spectators leaned forward in their seats in anticipation of what the girl was about to say and they were not disappointed.

“Very well, if I must speak then so be it. I saw a man dressed in a long black robe standing before a large wooden cross that was as tall as a cherry tree. The man looked like one of the black friars of St Dominic but he was no priest because the cross was upside down and … it was on fire.”

Joan paused for effect and the crowd dutifully sucked in their breath.

“You see, no Christian would burn the symbol of our salvation, the prisoner is clearly guilty and I say he should burn at the sake to teach all heretics that the fires of hell await them beyond the grave!” said one of the judges. The
crowd roared their approval but the cardinal raised his hand for silence.

“You must allow the witness to finish her testimony, pray go on my dear,” insisted Wolsey. The girl nodded and continued her story.

“The man had a long wand in his hand and he used it to draw a circle on the ground whilst he muttered an incantation in a strange language. In the next moment, a column of red smoke began to rise from the centre of the circle and, as I watched, it began to take the form of a magical beast.”

“The man had opened a gate of hell and released a demon!” cried another of the judges.

“That was exactly it!” agreed the girl. “The smoke became a hideous demon, with the horned head and cloven hooves of a goat, but it smelled worse than any goat.”

“Baphomet, the demonic beast worshipped by the disgraced Templars!” shrieked a third judge.

“But who was the man in the robe who summoned this fiend?” asked Wolsey barely able to contain his own prurient excitement.

“It was him over there,” said the girl and she pointed directly at Thomas.

“Then what happened?” said another of the judges breathlessly.

“Oh but it is too shameful to relate,” wailed the girl with false modesty.

“You must tell us,” said the judge who had little flecks of spittle forming at the corners of his mouth. “Come, have courage my dear!”

The girl took a deep breath and began again:

“The man in the black robe caught sight of me hiding in the bushes. He looked at me with eyes that shone yellow, like the eyes of a dog. I couldn’t look away, he held me in his thrall. He spoke no words but I could hear his voice in my head. He ordered me to step forward and I could do nothing but obey. He bade me disrobe and my fingers obeyed his silent command even though my modesty urged me to resist. Slowly I unlaced my bodice and my petticoats and shed my garments one by one until I stood in that glade as naked as the day I was born.”

The girl paused and rubbed her hands slowly over her ample breasts and slim waist to show just how much pleasure the sight of her naked form could excite in any male creature, natural or supernatural. At least two of the elderly judges cried out at thought of a young girl standing naked and helpless in front of a burning cross and a lascivious demon.

“And then?” croaked a judge.

“The man in the robe ordered the demon to ravish me,” sighed the girl, “I had to give myself to Satan in all his wickedness. He even made me … kiss The Devil’s Lance!”

The crowd erupted into pandemonium. Half the spectators crowed with delight at the girl’s lewd tale whilst others insisted the satanic fornicator must suffer death this very day for corrupting such an innocent maiden.

“What nonsense is this? This harlot is clearly lying! How much has she been paid for her testimony?” yelled Thomas, trying to make himself heard over the uproar. Unfortunately for him, the veracity of the girl’s testimony was utterly irrelevant for the crowd had thoroughly
enjoyed her story. They stamped their feet on the wooden platforms and cheered until the din threatened to disrupt the business in all the other courts.

“Silence, or I shall have the court cleared!” bellowed Wolsey and his imperious voice echoing around the hall’s ancient stones had the desired effect. Fearing they might miss more of the girl’s highly colourful story, the crowd settled back into their seats.

“Pray continue,” insisted Wolsey once order had returned.

“As the demon sated his lust, I was seized by the madness of Venus and I don’t know quite what happened after that,” said the girl in a hushed whisper. “But I remember hearing the man in the robe whispering with the demon. They were plotting to sacrifice me to The Devil and in exchange for my soul Satan would make Queen Catherine cease her monthly courses so she would become barren before her time.”

“Treason!” cried one of the judges leaping to his feet and pointing an accusing finger at Thomas, “Clearly the prisoner has plotted against the natural fortune of his sovereign and the safety of the realm! No wonder the Queen cannot bear a healthy child if warlocks such as he cast their wicked spells upon her!”

“This is ridiculous! If I’d sacrificed this whore how come she’s standing here? And why would I wish the queen to become barren? How would I profit from such wickedness?” Thomas countered.

“You were paid by the agents of France or the House of York,” retorted Wolsey accusingly.

“Then where’s your evidence?” cried Thomas holding his arms wide so the crowd could see he was dressed in rags but Wolsey raised his hand to signify the trial was at an end.

“Enough, there is nothing more to be said. The accused’s guilt is confirmed by the testimony of the witness and she may go,” said Wolsey. The girl curtsied and flounced from the room, clearly pleased with her performance. Thomas wondered if she knew that her lies had condemned him to a brutal and painful death. Most probably she did and she didn’t care.

“The jury is instructed to find the prisoner Thomas Devilstone guilty on all charges,” continued Wolsey, addressing the jury’s nervous looking foreman. The other judges on the bench nodded their agreement and Thomas knew he was doomed. The niceties of legal procedure were maintained, and the jury was allowed to retire to consider their verdict, but the outcome was never in doubt. No juror would dare disobey the cardinal or they too would hang. After less than a quarter of an hour the jurymen filed back into court and pronounced the prisoner guilty of conspiring with evil spirits to prevent the Queen’s conception of a child, a crime that was nothing short of High Treason.

“The punishment for traitors has been established by common practice since the days of King Edward Primus and it is my solemn duty to pass sentence,” said Wolsey with a noticeable air of satisfaction.

“It is the order of this court that the prisoner Thomas Devilstone be detained at His Majesty’s pleasure until the
appointed day when he shall suffer execution in a manner befitting a necromancer, heretic and traitor. On that day he shall be drawn on a hurdle to Smithfield and there hanged by the neck till he be half dead. He shall then be cut down alive, his privy parts shall be cut off, his belly ripped asunder, his bowels drawn from his body and burnt whilst he still lives. His corpse shall be divided into four quarters, one quarter to be set up over each of the four gates of the city of London and his head set upon London Bridge until it doth corrupt and decay. Officers of the court, do your duty.”