Witch Hunt

Chapter Thirty-Nine




Nathaniel Braybrook had lived in a turbulent time. An educated man, he was the only son of a well-to-do merchant based in London. Despite the unpredictable nature of business, fortune had shone on the Braybrooks, enabling them to come through the bloody Civil War largely unscathed, if not a little worse off.

It appeared Braybrook had links to the wool trade in Chelmsford that necessitated some travel between there and his family home in Epping, and it was on one of these journeys in 1644 that Braybrook witnessed the execution of the witches. His account lent me no new understanding of the trial, describing the process as I had read it so many times before in pamphlets. But there was one line that drew my attention. Braybrook, it seemed was a religious dissenter, traumatised by the unspeakable acts of violence that were part and parcel of everyday life during the Civil War. He supported neither the royal cause nor the extremism of the Puritans. In fact, I read in Alexander Phelps’s notes that Braybrook was later to become part of the religious movement that grew into the Quakers. The man obviously had a conscience, which informed his later actions.

Writing up the hangings he recorded this: ‘The haste with which the deed was done was ungodly. I did sight the wretch who confess’d passed off. How much of the covenant she did freely declare amongst some there is great doubt. Her being fore known as a Christian in her village.’

This had to be a reference to Rebecca. An incident that I had ‘seen’ myself – Rebecca being ‘passed off’? I flinched as the sight of Anne West’s scalp skittered across my mindscape. Such brutal times, so harsh and inhumane. If only Rebecca had known that there was someone in the crowd who was not so full of blind hate.

The transcript went on to describe Braybrook’s hasty retreat from the scene and his journey home. The next wedge of pages testified to his daily life, seasonal observations and rumours from London about the King. There was a mention of the Suffolk trials: ‘This Witchfinder and his man, Stearne, have inflict’d such greate pain and agonie on many who were innocent but for loss of their senses. They say they do take much delight in the torment of these soules and the procurement of money from villages to feather themselves a good nest. More than four score were sent to their deaths, in that County, and some only childs.’

I copied it down and flicked through the pages till I reached the end of that volume. The text was fascinating but not incredibly useful. I was in two minds as whether to read the next volume; sleep was calling me and the wine had dulled my senses.

Thank God I did.

It began in March 1647. I read about Braybrook’s exploits with some degree of interest until I came to another entry concerning Chelmsford, dated to August. This journey took Braybrook further north, to a merchant in Ardleigh, a village set between Manningtree and Colchester. My heart began to quicken as I read his words:

‘A bad day of trade. Glad to leave. Towards Colchester, my horse did much afear’d rise up for a figure did shoot forth from the hedgerow. I was thrown and once recover’d saw a young woman fallen across the way. She was much aggriev’d and beset by woe, without her wits. I was loathe to leave her and so did pick her up and transport her to Colchester town, whereby I install’d her in a room at my lodgings.’

I turned the page. The next entry was presumably dated to the following day although there was nothing on the transcript to indicate a break in time but a couple of blank lines.

‘The morning I visit’d the market. When I return’d to the Inn, the woman was recovered in the flesh, yea still pale as milk. She did put me in mind of my own dear daughter Catherine who departed from this world twenty years long. Her’s too was hair the colour of moonless nights, eyes a paler stone. In those attributes the likeness was striking. But at this present time the young woman’s wits are disordered and her spirits much distress’d.

Later upon learning it was I who roused her and conveyed her to this place she did, straight off, throw herself at my feet and cried out for some small “mercy”. Alarm’d I bid her tell me her sorrow.

The dreadful tale she did recount most provok’d me. For she had been cruelly treated by a gentleman who had stolen her virtue and left her with child. Some moneys being left for her upkeep did afford her a modest cottage. Though this did not last long and soon she was cast out of doors. Shunned by the village and shamed she was reduced to poverty, able only to provide for the child by way of begging.

When she did lately hear that the man had return’d from his travels she sought him out and implor’d him to relieve their suffering. The gentleman did give her a guinea and, seeing she could not care for the child, took it from her to be nursed.

Rebecca, for that was, I learnt, her name did find herself in grievous distress, enduring great misery without the babe and soon did repent of her decision. When she went to the gentleman for her child he was terrible cold. He scorn’d her and did throw her off. Rebecca swore before him she would repeat her pleas time and again in his ears until he did tell where the child now liv’d. The gentleman did wickedly laugh and tell her she could ne’er follow him where he was bound. When she pressed him he did boast of travelling the morrow to London and henceforth voyage across the sea.

Rebecca’s spirits flew about her heart. She was put into great fright and made off to find her cousin, Robin Drakers, most recently returned from war. I had stumbled over her as she made that journey to his house in Boxted.

I was sincerely affect’d by her discourse and truly her tale did fire my heart. She did appear very like Catherine, her being of small size and brittle. My daughter, though, did have me. Rebecca had none there to look to but her one cousin. As she spoke I was driven to such an extremity of vexation as the like never known to me. My inclination was to assist the woman in finding Drakers and I did tell her such forthwith. This proposal was met with tears of gratitude and warmth. Soon I did call for a horse and coach and, having made preparations for victuals, we set off for Boxted.

This at last did pacify her as well as it could for the hours we travell’d over the bad ground.

Once reach’d Boxted we spent little time searching for the cousin and when we discover’d his dwelling he was at home. Rebecca did straight off avail him of her plight and beseeched him to petition the gentleman to release her child. Robin Drakers had more years in age, far greater stature and strength than his fairer cousin. His face was rough and scarr’d by battle. I could see that he, in his circumstance, was past the operation of fear. Now, Rebecca did call the gentleman by his name and I saw Mr Drakers did catch some meaning when she said it – Master Hopkins. His face did tremble and when he spoke it was with a raised voice and dark countenance. He did foreswear to make haste unto the Port of London, to find the Gentleman and bring him back. Rebecca did at once stand up and entreated him with desperate pleas only to find the child. At length he consider’d this and so did agree to be led by her need. Thereby he promis’d to deliver the whereabouts of the child. Mr Drakers did accompany Rebecca and I to Colchester. Then with monies secured by myself he did procure a horse and set forth for London.

I cannot but reflect as I commend these words that my perception and concern in the matter has been sent from the heavens. It is my belief The Almighty God did place Rebecca in my path as he so placed the half dead Levite for the Samaritan to pity. He did bandage his wounds and pour on oil and wine, and so brought him to an inn and took care of him. As Christ did show the way I too shall follow.’

I was gobsmacked. Could this be my Rebecca? I felt sure that it was. The time was right, the name was right. Even the locale was spot on. So cruelly treated by a ‘gentleman’? Hopkins. I remembered a dream when I had seen a man come onto me – a nightmare creature with red eyes and stinking breath that smelled like tar? Was that a vision sent from Rebecca? Had the Witchfinder taken her and separated her so he could enjoy his dirty concubine? I shuddered. It had certainly been suggested by a couple of historians.

I started to copy the passage down into my own notebook but realised I was too impatient and needed to read on to find out what happened.

Irritatingly, Braybrook blabbed on for a good page recording his business in Colchester, but then he returned to the Inn. Here he found Rebecca in a terrible state, worried by her cousin’s continued absence. It seemed she had been expecting him back that day. I reckoned that was too optimistic if Drakers made the journey from Colchester to London on horseback; it was a distance of about forty-five miles. A good horse could cover, what forty or fifty miles a day? There and back. That’s at least two days. Mind you, if this was Rebecca West, which I was becoming convinced it was, she probably didn’t have a clue about distances. I doubted if she had ever gone further south than Chelmsford, for the trial.

Braybrook entered some calculations and made an appointment to see a merchant the following day. Rebecca, he said, was taken with ‘the ague’, which forced her to retire to her quarters. He recorded she was given a potion of herbs by the innkeeper’s wife. I raced through to the entry for the following day and found Braybrook’s account of what happened next.

‘Robin Drakers did arrive late of the afternoon. He had the appearance of one greatly vexed. He did take me aside and tell these words: Having arrived late he did secure lodgings and the following day made his way to the dock. By and by he discovered there were no ships to sail that day. The vessel bound for New England had depart’d. Compell’d by his cousin’s desperate plea he did go to see the offices, and did speak with the shipping clerk. He was not forthcoming yet once his hand had been greased with coin he did show Mr Drakers the passenger list. The gentleman was known to the clerk, for he had some trade once with the company. The clerk took out the ledger and showed Drakers he had set off with a different name, wanting to obfuscate his true origins, for the country was much turn’d against him. Mr Drakers did pay for the notice and, not being schooled in reading, did bring it for me to inspect. The clerk had noted the entry of the gentleman with his true initials “MH”.

This was a great disappointment to us; for now we were at a loss what to do. It was ill fate. We had no remedy but to tell Rebecca her gentleman had depart’d and taken the secret of the child’s whereabouts with him. The pitiable woman was full of horror at those words and turned as pale as death and, sinking into the chair, she fell down into a swoon. It was a good while before she fully recover’d her senses and she was not able to speak for severale minutes. Then she gave a start, “It cannot be.” And begged me to take her to Manningtree with a conviction that no one could resist.

After consultation with Mr Drakers our plan was set out to go there on the morrow.’

The next entry was dated two days later – August 18th, 1647.

Despite the comfort of the twenty-first century what I read next shocked me to the quick. Even Alexander Phelps’s handwriting wobbled and looped towards the end.

‘It is with a full and heavy heart I write these words. The conclusion of the matter was not what was hop’d for.

Rebecca was deep laden with grief as we travell’d to Manningtree. Drakers and I did much to give her hope that we would find her little daughter.

Our thoughts were to first settle at the coaching Inn and then ride out to where Master Hopkins once liv’d. We would then find to where the child was sent and take her to Rebecca.

Alas, it was not to be.

We came into Manningtree after noon. The innkeeper was much taken aback by Rebecca and it took a small sack of guineas to persuade him of our good character. We dined and then left Rebecca at the Inn. She did not wish to accompany us and was much troubled, pacing to and fro.

We made out for Mistley and found the house with ease. We were announced by the servant and were met by the occupant, a Mr Witham, preacher. We did introduce ourselves and with much caution and speaking around did suggest our story and explain at length our aim. Presently we did ask if Master Hopkins had there resided.

The preacher was much amazed by our tale and confessed much puzzlement.

“Master Hopkins, a wise and pious son,” said he, “lies in the ground of Mistley Church these six days pass’d.”

Drakers and I were astonished.

“This cannot be,” says I. “We have report he has left for the New World.”

The preacher answer’d he would scarce believe that, lest it give his wife hope for she was much aggriev’d by the loss of her good son. At this Drakers did stand up and said with great fury, “Not so good as to leave my cousin with child. And to send said child away to be nursed. Where is she? My heart trembles for fear of what you have seen and heard. Where is she? I will go to the magistrate of the town.”

At this Witham, very grave, did take my arm to solicit a private interview. Seeing the fear Drakers had put on him I agreed and he led me to a smaller room.

Here he told me his knowledge of Rebecca. And most grim did say her mother was a wicked unchristian woman who fell in with a coven of witches. They were discover’d by Matthew and henceforth tried and hanged. Rebecca too was tried but repented and was so freed. Her senses, he said, had been touched never to recover. Her story was but fantasy. She was enraged by the passions of madness and a secret burning lust for revenge. Hopkins was dead and they knew nothing of any child. He importuned me to leave the “witch” and to cast her out at once.

I thanked him for his counsel and much shaken did call Drakers to my side and we left the house. I gave him Witham’s account and did watch his face as he received it. I was as much taken with the virtue of the soldier as with his cousin’s torment and hearkened to his words. Drakers did admit they had been attacked as witches but did swear he had never known witchcraft. That Rebecca and her mother had been godly still to the day that he left to fight. And were it they had no other but he to speake for them then they would not have been taken so low. But he concurr’d Rebecca was made much distress’d by the trial and, some said, had lost her wits.

“Witham says Hopkins is dead,” said I. “Rebecca is mistaken.”

“There is the ship’s ledger,” says he.

“Another man,” says I. “Your clerk has made a wage of our misfortune.”

We returned and found her and did sober and calm convey the preacher’s words. She did listen with tears and entreaties. And though she was much reduced to me, her form did quiver and seem most pitiful. Then she withdrew and Drakers and I agreed we should return Rebecca to his house in Boxted. He pressed me earnestly to join him on the morrow one last time so we may ask in the town for the child. If nothing was to come of it, he would take Rebecca and treat her there as his sister.

I was not so hasty in my agreement as I was in my first heat of hearing Rebecca’s story.

I said to him with a sigh, “God has led me so far. After the morrow I must continue on my way.”

Though his eyes did not meet mine I saw in his face that he took my meaning.

Without more talk we both retired.

Dear God send your humble servant guidance, I prithee.

Lord, I have surely carried through my task. The Levite is healed. Her woes like Job have been of great endurance. But I cannot know if she has abandoned you, Oh Lord. I pray not.

I am in a state of confusion as to the mercy I have bestowed. I give thanks unto the Lord for he is good. God of Gods have mercy on me for I know not what course to take.’

August 19th, 1647

In my prayers last night I did ask the Almighty for guidance. When I awoke I did think of Rebecca’s tears. They were real I swear. And Drakers too is a good and noble soldier. I must not be overtaken by the judgement of others.

So with renewed vigour this morning I did accompany Drakers to the village. We left word for Rebecca that we would return soon, perchance with some news.

Many with whom we spoke did tell of another woman come by, asking of the Same – Rebecca had already been about in the village.

After noon we return’d to the Inn but found her not to be in her quarters so went out once more to seek her.

Our search took long and was not fruitful. Yea though afore night fell we did hear she was found and we did hasten to the place, down by the river, where we did find her lifeless form wrapped in the leaves of the weeping willow. If she had come to seek or come to drown we would never know. Nor of the child that griev’d her so.

Drakers stays on to bury the girl. And I must away home.

May God have mercy on her soul. May piteous Rebecca now find her peace.

As I pulled my head up from the page I could feel myself beginning to whirl, as if someone was spinning me round in the chair, and then I was there in the brook with violent pains in my head. The cold wetness, yielding, took me in and took me down.

‘Oh child of mine forgive me. Sweetling babe I will watch o’er you now. Through the tides of time and fortune I will follow you even now.’

The water came above me and I breathed its cold hard kiss; falling down into the darkness that led me on to the abyss.