“But you've ruled.”
“During the process of this hearing, I have heard substantial evidence of misconduct by those officers called interrogators or witchers. The appointment of these witchers is in the hands of the ecclesiastical authorities, who have delegated that responsibility to an examining board of experts on witchery, who are responsible for making sure that witchers are fully trained. However, the actual license to interrogate and serve as an officer of the court is issued by the governor upon a swearing-in by a judge. This license is required for an interrogator to have standing in a civil court and call a witch trial. The licenses of all witchers fall under the law that governs the licensing of all government officials not specified in any particular act. Under that law, your license can be suspended upon a finding by a judicial officer of the level of magistrate or higher that you have used your office against the interests of the people of the commonwealth. I so find. Mr. Quill, I hereby declare your license and the license of all other interrogators in the commonwealth of Massachusetts and in the judicial circuit of New England to be suspended.”
“But you can't– you–”
“Furthermore, I declare all interrogations made under these licenses to be suspended as well. I order that no judicial proceeding may continue until and unless hearings are held that substantiate the evidence under the normal rules of evidence in the civil courts, which are the courts that have jurisdiction over licensing. If you or any other witchcraft interrogator cannot demonstrate that the evidence you have given in court meets the standard of evidence in the civil courts, the suspension of your license may not be lifted. And as long as your license is suspended, no officer of the law in New England is permitted to arrest, imprison, confine, arraign, or try any person on the orders of an interrogator; and since the law requires that a witcher be the prosecutor at any witch trial in New England, I order that no witch trial may be held in New England until and unless an interrogator in possession of a valid license is available to prosecute.”
The words flowed out of John like water from a spring. He felt as though he were singing. Alvin Smith's point had been well taken. But in the moment when he realized that, for honor's sake, he would have to deny Cooper's clever motions, a new path opened up in his mind and he saw how he could put a stop to witch trials, not by using judicial precedent to destroy the law, but by using another law to trump it.
“I declare this hearing adjourned.” He banged the gavel. Then he banged it again. “I call the court to order in the matter of the commonwealth versus Alvin Smith and Purity Orphan. This being a witch trial, we may not proceed without the presence of an interrogator with a valid license. Is there an interrogator with such a license in the courtroom?”
John looked at Quill cheerfully. “You, sir, seem to be sitting at the prosecutor's table. Have you such a license?”
Quill saw the handwriting on the wall. “No, Your Honor.”
“Well,” said John. “As there seem to be no other candidates for the role of interrogator present, I have no choice but to find that this trial is improper and illegal. I dismiss the charges. The defendants are free to go. Mr. Smith is not obligated to return to court. Court is adjourned.”
Quill rose shakily to his feet. “If you think you can get away with this, you're wrong, sir!”
John ignored him and walked away from the bench.
Quill shouted after him. “We'll get new licenses! See if we don't!”
But John Adams knew something that Quill had forgotten. Licenses were issued only on the authority of the governor. And John was pretty sure that Quincy would not issue any licenses until the Assembly of Massachusetts had plenty of time to write a new witch law that eliminated the office of interrogator and required the normal rules of evidence to hold sway, including the right of the defendant not to be compelled to testify. The churches had the right, of course, to hold witch trials any time they wanted, but the maximum penalty in the ecclesiastical courts was excommunication from the congregation. And they used that power against people who didn't attend church often enough.
When the door of the robing room had closed behind him, John couldn't help it. He danced a little jig all around the room, singing a childish ditty as he did.
Then he remembered what he had seen Alvin Smith do, and his mood sobered at once.
He sat in the plush chair and tried to understand what he had seen. John had never believed in knacks that defied natural law, but now he realized that he had come to believe this, not because they didn't exist, but because no one would dare to use such powers in New England, where you could hang for it. The witch laws were wrong, not because such powers were wholly imaginary, but because they didn't necessarily come from Satan. Or did they? Had he crippled the witchcraft laws at the very moment when he had proof that they were necessary?
No. Cooper might not have prevailed with his motions, but his point was well taken. It was only the falsified testimony of the witchers that showed any involvement of Satan with knacks. Without the witchers, knacks were just inborn talents. That some of them were extraordinary did not mean that the possessor of such a knack was either evil or good. Nor was there any evidence that the witch laws had ever been used against people whose hidden powers were truly dangerous. It was obvious that if Alvin Smith had not wished to be confined, no jail could have held him. Therefore only those whose knacks were relatively mild and harmless could ever have been convicted and hanged. It was a law that did nothing it was intended to do. It protected no one and harmed many. It would be good to be rid of it.
In the meantime, though, there was Alvin Smith. What a strange young man! To walk away from his own trial because he thought his lawyer was going to get him off by hurting society at large– was he really that altruistic? Did the good of the people mean more to him than his own good name? For that matter, why had he stayed? John knew without asking. Just as Hezekiah had begged him not to let any harm come to Purity, so also had Alvin stayed for the trial specifically in order to link Purity's fate to his own. But no matter what happened, Purity wasn't going to hang. Alvin had the power to see to that.
But that wasn't enough for Verily Cooper. Saving his friend, saving this girl, that wasn't enough. He had to save everybody. John understood the impulse. He had it himself. He had been thwarted in it, and it hurt him to fail. Not like it hurt Hezekiah Study, of course. But at long last, Cooper had brought them both a chance to redeem their past failures. It was a good gift. Cooper might be too clever for his own good, but he used it in a good cause, which was more than could be said for many clever men.
Knacks. Alvin Smith could shed iron like melting butter. What is my knack? Do I have one? Perhaps my knack is just to hold on my course whether it seems to be taking me anywhere or not. Stubbornness. That could be a gift of God, couldn't it? If so, I daresay I've been blessed with far more than my share. And when God judges me someday, he'll have to admit I didn't bury my talent. I shared it with everyone around me, much to their consternation.
John Adams had a good laugh about that, all by himself.
Chapter 14 – Revolt
No sooner was Alvin out of the courtroom than he began to run, long loping strides that would carry him to the river. No greensong helped him at first, for the town was too built up. Yet he was scarcely wearied when he reached the place where Arthur, Mike, and Jean-Jacques were just awakening from their late-afternoon naps. For a moment they wanted to show him what Jean-Jacques had painted, but Alvin had no time for that.
“I was in court and I couldn't pay attention to half that folderol, and my mind wandered to Margaret and there she was, her heart beating so fast, I knew something was wrong. She was spelling big letters in midair. Help. And I looked around her and there was Calvin lying on the floor of an attic in Camelot, and he's in a bad way.”