But Mother Goodhugh was not condemned without ample test and trial, fallen as she had under the care of a famous witch-finder and judge of the day, who came down to the nearest town by royal command to investigate the case.
The wretched woman was put through a course of torture. She suffered the pin test for the witch’s mark. This failing, she next had her thumbs and toes tied together, she was wrapped in a sheet, and in the presence of plenty of spectators thrown into a pool.
As a certain amount of air remained in the sheet, and the water was some time in penetrating it, the poor woman naturally enough floated, amidst the execrations of the crowd, among whom were some twenty or thirty of Sir Mark’s men.
None but a witch could float, so it was said; so after a final test, in which Mother Goodhugh failed to repeat the Lord’s prayer without hesitation, her trial proceeded, and she was condemned to be burnt at the stake in her own village a week after sentence.
There was not much mercy shown in those days, and, though the fair rounded cheeks of Anne Beckley turned a little pale when Sir Mark brought her the news, they flushed directly after, for she felt that she would be freed from a persecutor who would give her no rest, and who might cause her trouble with her husband after the first few months of matrimonial life.
Besides, Anne Beckley argued with a shudder, the old woman had done strange things, and, with the superstition in her nature ready to accept it, she argued that if living she might curse her to her injury. True she might curse her now, but, as her accusations had been set aside as malicious, it was quite possible that her evil genius had deserted her as he did those who became unfortunate, and, as she had risked so much and gained only defiance, Anne Beckley determined to go on to the end.
It was a strange mixture, but the preparations for the wedding of Mistress Anne Beckley and for the execution of Mother Goodhugh went on side by side, in spite of the further efforts of Master Peasegood and the founder, who even went so far as to make a journey to London to seek the King’s clemency. Of course without avail.
From his position as maker of his Majesty’s Ordnance, Master Cobbe succeeded in getting an audience, to be received well, told that he was a good man, that his guns were strong, but that he knew naught of witchcraft.
“Read my book, Master Cobbe, read my book,” said his Majesty; and Jeremiah Cobbe had to bow himself out with the stout parson, who was perspiring with anger.
“I’m a loyal and I hope religious man, Master Cobbe,” said the latter excitedly; “I fear God and I honour the King; but all the same, Master Cobbe, I vow and declare that his Majesty is the damnedest fool I ever saw, and may the Lord forgive me for swearing.”