2. A Rather Nasty Fire

So this is part of a tour through some of the worst elements of human stupidity.

Maybe it was because Janie Cobweb thought she was on to a good thing or it might have been Peter’s bottomless depth of charm, but she clung to him like a limpet, something she’d hardly ever done in her surprisingly long life.

After Rosemary and Stephen’s wedding she took him to one side on their way home (they chose to walk, though a lift in one of the cars would have been available, the distance being around five miles and Peter well-watered by the reception bar) and told him that of all the men in the entire Universe she liked him best, and then went on to confuse him by saying,

“And I’ve known an awful lot of men in the Universe seeing as I am who I am,” in a mysterious voice.

Peter didn’t know Janie Cobweb from Eve, though he told himself that the lack of a fig leaf helped distinguish one lady from all pretenders.

“That makes you sound mysterious,” he told her, meaning it.

“Well, I’m not your average girlfriend,” she explained, “for starters, I’m older than I look, but please don’t ask.”

“I’m bound to be curious if you say things like that,” he told her flatly, “and I don’t believe in having any secrets from the woman I might one day love.”

“You mean, you might love me?” she asked, suddenly excited, “Really? I’ve had dozens of lovers, but none as nice as you!”

“Then what did you mean by you’re older than you look?” he persisted.

“Oh, darling Peter, I was around when they burned witches tied to a stake,” she said, “I saw my first burning when I was a child!”

“Now you’re having me on!” he laughed.

“Really? You think so? Look: do you see that passage over there?” she pointed to what looked like a smudge next to a hedgerow leading across a field.

Peter looked and to his surprise what looked like nothing at all to start with metamorphosed into a narrow country path that seemed to be mostly made of shadow.

“It looks odd,” he commented, frowning.

“Then come with me. It’s not far and I’ll show you something you’ll never believe afterwards!” she said, and took him by the hand, half-dragging him across the road which, thankfully, wasn’t busy because he didn’t think she was even looking to see if crossing it was safe.

“What for?” he asked, apprehensively.

“You’ll see. It isn’t far!” was her non-informative reply.

The pathway was strange, like nothing that Peter had walked down before. And there seemed to be a slight electric charge in the air, though he didn’t call it that when he shuddered and wondered what was happening because nothing all of a sudden seemed natural. She led him several paces along it until they suddenly found themselves on the edge of a quite different field under a quite different sky. Late afternoon suddenly became late evening with the only illumination from a full moon.

And before Peter could ask her what on Earth was going on a crowd of people dressed in what he guessed was a drab assortment of medieval-type costumes appeared from nowhere, one moment not there and the next a clamouring crowd shouting in a language that wasn’t even slightly familiar to him.

“What’s this? A film set?” he asked.

“Silly boy!” she laughed, “of course it’s not a film set! We’ve just walked along a special path my chums from the spirit world created for me, and this is real, Peter. We’re in the past of a long time ago and watching something that really happened back then. I warn you: it’s not exactly pleasant, but I wanted you to know what I know because, well, I rather like you.”

“You want me to know something that’s not pleasant and yet you like me?” he asked, confused by an apparent contradiction.

“You live in comfortable times, dear boy,” she said, smiling and her eyes sparkling, “Remember your girlfriend little Jane? Your heart was broken because all that happened to her was she moved to another country, but had you lived a few hundred years ago things were a great deal less comfortable. Wait and watch, and be grateful that your life is where it is rather than where it isn’t!”

Peter was confused, but he found he was one of a crowd of people who emitted a rather dirty fragrance, and standing by a wooden fence that hadn’t been there moments earlier. And it was the smell rather than the sounds of garbled speech that struck him first. To say that it was unpleasant and had to it a suggestion of vomit, urine and other things he didn’t even want to think about.

Then he started concentrating on the voices near him. What language was this? There was a sort of familiarity, the occasional word, pronounced differently, might have been heard in a crowd back home in the twenty-first century, but they being only occasional recognisable words. all sense was lost to him.

“This is confusing,” he mumbled to Janie Cobweb.

“I want you to see how things have changed,” she told him, “now watch: see that man over there?”

“The one with a tall hat?” asked Peter.

“Yes, that’s him. Well, he’s the local witchfinder and he’s leading a witch out to her execution by fire. I told you things have changed in the few hundred years since where we are at this moment. You see, people believed in Satan and his battle with their God. They believed that there were creatures who acted as a liaison between some old women and the devil. Now I know there are spirits around because I use them to create this path, but they’re nothing to do with good and evil like these people are convinced endangers their every day. Now watch!

Peter watched as the man with the large hat and black cloak pushed an old woman towards the stake that was surrounded by what looked like kindling, and she was bound to it by ruffians who leapt on her and took no notice of her protestations.

“What’s she done wrong?” asked Peter.

“She was seen feeding a black cat,” replied Janie, “and that was enough for her to be known as a witch. She was tried in the manor court and the Lord of Manor, who was judge and jury, condemned her to the fires on this burning field. That’s what they called it: the burning field, which gives you a clue what it’s used for!”

As Peter gazed on in horror he saw one of the ruffians plunge a burning brand into the kindling, and flames leapt up to lick against the flesh of the old woman. She screamed deafeningly, agonizingly, but the people didn;t see to care but wanted even more screaming. A black cat squawked’and ran away, and that made the people who were already ecstatic applaud all the louder.

“I can’t stand this!” whispered Peter.

“But it happened. Several times in medieval history, and the ordinary people believed they were doing the right thing. That’s why they’re cheering,” explained Janie, “They have been brainwashed from birth to believe they were doing the right thing by abolishing witches however cruel it may seem to you. And the witches weren’t all old ladies. Some were young and one or two men were also accused of witchcraft if a pet animal was seen with them as a familiar, doing Satanic work against their God.”

“It’s awful,” gasped Peter, “I want to go…”

“Come on, then,” said Janie Cobweb, and as she spoke the field and the smell of burning flesh, a smell that was not unlike the roasting of pork on Sundays, faded away and he was back on the road that connected the wedding reception to his home.

“I’ll never forget that,” he mumbled as they walked along, “all those people cheering and the poor old woman screaming… it was too horrible for words.”

Janie shrugged. “But it happened,” she said, “and I was there as a child with parents and relatives who believed that the only way to beat evil was to burn it at its source. They’d been told it all their lives, mostly by priests who condemned witches in churches all over the land, and urged their persecution. It was best not to be favoured by an animal back then! And you can now see that I’m older than I look!”

“But the smell,” whispered Peter, “stronger than the unwashed skin, the burning flesh! And the poor old woman. It’ll be with me for ever!”

© Peter Rogerson 06.05.22

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