The Salem Witch – Part 3

Again, I mean no offense to anyone with an Irish brogue or anyone who practices witchcraft – I have great respect for all.

“Oiy, she did it, she’s a witch. She cast a spell on her she did! I saw the whole thing.”

If Brigitte had not been so startled by the girl’s screams, she would have been busy laughing her head off. Unfortunately, her wits were not about her as she was taken off guard and two slick looking policemen came and each grabbed one of Brigitte’s arms.

“Alright young lady you’ll be comin with us, We’ll not have you makin a scene here in the middle of the street.”

Brigitte was positively startled and absolutely without words as they drug her off and to the prison. When she finally got there, she had gotten over her shock and was more then willing to jump to her own defense. She kicked the officer in the shins that was holding her. When he tried to slap her, she bit him.

“Whoa, seems like we have a wild filly here, Tommy.” The one oaf said to the other. “Yes, tis such a shame that the rope will mar that pretty little throat of hers.”

“No rope will be marrin me neck you big oaf! I will not be hanged cause I did nothing wrong. The Salem Witch trials were over two hundred years ago. Or haven’t ye read enough to know that they were done? Oh beggin you’re pardon I am sir,” she said and affected a curtsey, “perhaps tis slow ye are and ye not be knowin how to read the papers yet.”

“You have no manners, you little ill-bred wench! Well, perhaps I can teach you some iffin I chance to come back this way this evening.”

Brigitte glumly replied, “Be still me beatin ‘art.”

“You should be so lucky.”

Brigitte spent the day alone locked up in a cell. None of her patrons came to her defense for even though they were wealthy, intelligence does not come hand in hand, so they feigned ignorance of the girl. Her only visitor that day at all was Father O’Rielly, the local Catholic priest, who came to say a prayer with her and offered to rise to her defense the next morn in trial.

Tommy, the thug policeman, came back to visit her that night.

“Now, ye won’t be runnin away on me if I open this door to pedal me wares to ye will ye lass. In fact, I think I might just handcuff ye to the bed to assure my pleasure.” Luckily Brigitte had suspected this might happen and saved some of her meager bread and water from dinner. She took some of that now and held it in her hand