The Confession of The Judge

By Niya P.

St. Marguerite d'Youville Secondary School
Brampton

My story is not a pleasant story based on fairy tales of magic. Mine is a tale based on human behavior, on the natural instincts of mankind to destroy anything they do not understand. Our ancestors used this instinct as a survival technique, but as time progressed we humans did not need this instinct. For, we had developed our minds and were able to use them to keep ourselves safe. However, can we as moral humans say that we have left this instinct behind us in the barbaric times? Do we not still discriminate the differences, while calling ourselves righteous? My story is a tale about a cruel time in human history, when we men strived to destroy our partners in the dance of life, because we did not understand nor respect the great mystery of woman.

In those days, I was The Judge. I judged the women who were on trial for witch craft and Satan worshipping. I was the man who thought he had the power of controlling the life of another, of judging who was to live and to die. In those days I truly believed it was a righteous cause, the only way to rid the world of the evil. And, I truly believed that a woman suspected of witch craft is a woman already condemned and forsaken by God for her unholy ways.

I began my inhuman work at the tender age of fifteen, even at this age I harbored a great loathing for women. Many say the hatred in my heart began with my mother, a prostitute who could not even remember the name of the man who impregnated her. She did not care for anyone and lived a life that revolved around her. But, that was not where my hatred began. My heart turned into stone after the betrayal of the only person who I truly cared for, my sister. Rose and I were always there for each other. Until, she ran away with the man she believed to love her.

Three days after she left me, the village found her lifeless and pregnant body floating in the river a few hours from the village. She had drowned in the icy river. And, I thought she deserved it for leaving me alone in the cruel world, and I buried the pain of loosing her deep in my heart. But, my hatred spewed over and filled the very depths of my soul, chasing away any love that was left in my being. I was soul dead, and an ideal candidate for the use of the corrupt officials of the times.

Thus, I began my work and earned the name Calx Viscus, Stone Heart, in the eyes of all. I did not care for who I passed judgment on or what kind of death I passed judgment for, because I never let a convicted walk free and all convicted by me died at the stake. I did not care if she was a mother, a sister, or a daughter, if she was suspected of being a witch, then she was a witch. Hence, a female once convicted did not pray for freedom, but for any judge other than Calx Viscus.

As, I was feared by the public, the corrupt officials adored me. But, I was still Calx Viscus even in their eyes, for I showed no anger, no love, no hate. I had no emotion to show, for my heart was truly stone. Thus, it would have remained, had I not met the angel who saw my wounded heart and healed it, even as she faced death.

I was sent to a small village in Eastern Transylvania, to judge a trail of a young woman suspected of witch craft. I arrived at a village being soaked by a storm. My cloak wiped in the wind as the wings of a raven. My hat was pulled down to protect my face from the punishing elements.

I was welcomed by the town chief, Algos Von Dasilo and his family. I had come to do my work, and that was all that concerned me, so I began my work by questioning the family after our meal. I could see they were unsettled by me, but that was exactly how I would have them around me.

"When was she suspected?" I asked.

"At least a month ago, sir…sir, the storm began about the same time she be locked up. Hasn't let once since then," the man answered, but it did not interest me much for she was already judged and condemned.

"She be the daughter of the village mid-wife, sir. Her ma' was found a witch and burned, sir. Then she took over the trade, and like her ma's time people be gettin' sick, real strange like," the portly wife said, a strange eagerness rushing her words.

The woman wanted the girl dead, I could judge it from the manner in which the woman ranted on about how unholy the girl was.

"Sir, you must be warned, the girl like her ma' be scaring away judges. We had three others come and all left not givin' any answers," the man warned, as I had him lead me to the town jail.

This new piece of information interested me, as this would be the first case where the judges did not condemn, nor absolve the convicted. Then I saw her, she appeared to be a small girl, with hair red as blood, and wide, curious eyes green as the fresh pastures. Strangely, there was no fear in those eyes. Her face looked as if a master sculpture had sculpted the angel face just for her. And, when she saw me she smiled, her soft red lips lifted to form two dimples on each cheek. "Was this why? Were they caught by her beauty?" I wondered. "But, then why did they not let her go, there must be some thing different," I concluded.

I entered the cell and the door shut behind me, I faced her, my eyes calculating, judging. I saw her dirtied cloths, her skeletal figure and guessed she must have been in the cell for a long time now. Her hair was dirty and there was hay and mud standing out of it, her face was smeared with dirt, as were her hands and feet. But, her eyes were clear as the forest river.

"Hello, Mr. Woodbrough," her greeting surprised me, because no one had called me by anything other than sir or Calx Viscus for the past forty five years. She must have seen my surprise, because she chuckled and said, "So you do feel."

"What do you mean by that, witch?" I asked my voice calm, devoid of any emotion, but strangely this time I had to force the calm.

"Well you know as well as I about your reputation to feel nothing, but you proved that wrong by displaying your surprise," and she laughed at me. It was as if she did not care if she died or lived, and her mockery brought a bubbling anger into my being. My being that had not felt for years, and that surprised me.

"You know I have the power to kill you or let you free," I reminded her.

"May be you do, may be you don't, but tell me why you embrace the hate to your heart?" she asked, surprising me yet again. She stood up and I saw that she was a woman, a full grown woman in the prime of her life and not a girl.

"I am the one questioning you, not you me. Tell me are you a witch?" I asked leashing my anger with finality.

"There is no use of me denying or agreeing, either way you have already condemned me as a witch," she replied with a gentle smile on her face.

"So you admit to the crime?" I asked.

"I told you I will not give you an answer for that question, for you already have the answer within your mind. But, I wonder is that what your heart feels as well?" she said in her gentle soothing voice.

"You seem to have me all figured out, Ms…"

"Lily, my name is Lily. I do not have a family anymore so it's just Lily," she stated. "Tell me, Mr. Woodbrough, why do you hate so much? Were you hurt that much? You are not like the others…you…you have a good heart. I can see it weep through your eyes," she said, her eyes looking into the depth of my very soul.

"You are a strange one, Lily," I said amusement lacing my words. "All the women I have met in your position were always crying, hysterical and afraid of their own shadows."

"I have nothing to fear and nothing to cry for. I am alone in this world, and if people wish me dead, well then I guess it must be so," she replied with a faraway smile. And, for the first time I did not believe the convicted to be a witch.

"Tell me the truth," I asked surprising myself and her.

"Do you want the truth you wish to hear or the truth that is true?" she asked her eyes wide now in astonishment.

"The truth that you believe is true," I replied, and I did not know why for the life of me.

"The village men started to give my mother too much attention, so the women claimed her as witch and the men prosecuted her, because she did not give what they wanted. When I grew up to be old enough, I like my mother had the same problem and as my father was dead, my mother condemned, I was alone. So nobody cared, not even me," she mumbled as tears flowed down her face. Tears of sorrow, tears of a heart that was lonely as mine. I pulled her into my arms and comforted her, whispered gentle words to her. Thus, began my new beginning.

We had many more conversations in that small cell with the small window, and that little time healed our hearts. She made me laugh, feel happiness and sorrow, and for the first time in forty five years I felt remorse for the deaths I caused. I felt sickened for the blood of thousands on my hands. But, she helped me to forgive myself, helped me to think of a future with out anymore blood. For, those few days my heart was filled with love for her and a peace I never knew before. But, as they say 'No good thing lasts forever.'

Like the past few days we were talking when she told me the secret she locked within her. "Jack, I have something to tell you," she began.

"What is it Lil?" I asked with my now normal joviality.

"I…Jack…I have a gift or curse, it depends on how you see it. Jack, I… I can see what lies in a person's heart…I… can feel what another feels…Jack…I can see the strands of time," in other words, she just confessed to being a witch. And, my peace shattered.

I left her without a word. I wanted the heart of stone back. I wanted it to stop the pain, because I knew she must die because she was a witch, an affinity of evil. Even after the love she gave me my prejudice and fear towards change ruled me. Thus, I began the preparations for her death, but the peace filled days I spend with her haunted me. Then, I met her once again, for the last time an hour before her execution.

"You will be dead with in an hour," I stated, but she just nodded, smiled and waited. "I … I'm sorry Lily, you are a witch and my duty calls for your death," I whispered as I felt the pain cut through my once stone heart.

"Don't be, I have already forgiven you. Your heart it is still good, but misguided, and it still weeps, may be one day we'll meet again and things will be different," she said as she moved closer to me and gave me a kiss on my cheek, as a farewell.

Then I saw her as she burned at the stake. She smiled at me one last time before she closed her eyes in death, but she never screamed her pain. Few years later I died too, and my death was uneventful one.