Malius Malificorum

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This is a story based on what happened in the times when we brits burned witches. So happy reading and here goes. P.s. im posting this as i type it for an essay

Malius Malificorum

In the blessed year of our lord 1419 AD, a few years after the issuing of the Malius Malificorum by Pope Innocent the Eight, in the feral town of Marshortown, in the foot of the Pennine Mountains, was touched by the light of Christianity.
In a few weeks the church was constructed and already people spoke of witchcraft and heresy to the Church of Rome. A bishop visited the local church to speak to the father of the parish.
A lonely priest was the welcoming party for the bishop Arkreties who had travelled twenty roman miles to reach the town. The local father had taken ill and was suspected of being under the influence of a witches spell. The unholy hag was said to be a farmers widow who had been thrown from church a previous Sabbath for taking the lords name in vein on holy ground.
The bishop did not arrive alone. He travelled with a retinue of blessed soldiers, ten in all, standing in holy chain mail they were a full head taller than even the tallest local man. Bearing spears of dark wood topped with shining silver and holding their shield close to their chests, they formed a protective shield around the bishop as he made his entrance to the parish.
Along with the soldiers there was an executioner on hand. Being six foot four with a set of shoulders to match, he easily cut a way through the crowd. Carrying his massive axe he waded into the church almost bumping his head on the door he entered.
Behind the bishop trailed an exorcist, he was in his masters shadow the whole procession and scanned the crowd, looking with near-mad eyes he picked out faces that had a weakness. The girl sucking her thumb, the pagan farmer and the others without mention.
A final scribe hobbled through the doors as the guard of soldiers closed in around the parish. The doors shut and the prosecution begun.

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After a meal and prayers the purge began in Earnest. The women of the town were in charge of the growing of crops. This seamed like a logical place to start. Marching into the fields the bishop and the retinue ordered that all women were to report to him. Each one was identified yet the witch could not be found. This severely angered the bishop but using the lord as inspiration he found the strength to continue.
Another idea was the house of the accused. After regrouping at the chapel the bishop ordered his men to march to the door of the witch. Leading them like a king of old he marched to the door and hammered upon it with his bare fist.
“Open forth your door, witch, and let the lords light shine through” he called, not fearing the horrors that could lie behind the door.
“GO AWAY” screeched the witch.
Keeping himself in control the bishop ordered her “Give yourself to the lord and he shall see that you are restored. You have until the bell strikes the midnight hour or we shall come for you.” The answer was a mixture of both ear-splitting screeches and unholy curses that shall not be mentioned on holy text.
Having given his terms to the accused the bishop marched of to the church.

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That night at the stroke of midnight a crowd had gathered at the foot of the church awaiting news of the damned. The bishop burst through the doors and, flanked by his guards, he continued into the press of people. Suddenly he stopped right in the middle and silenced the mob with a flick of his hand.
“There is a witch among you” He bellowed, the words shook the sky. “You must find her, come with me to the path of redemption which only the pure of heart shall survive.”
The crowd moaned and mumbled some wailed in sorrow while others called out “to the path of redemption” and “burn the witch”.
The mob, headed by Arkreties and his retinue, marched up the small slope to the witch’s lair. The hovel looked like a brick pile born of Satanism with all its details illuminated in the full moons celestial light.
Many began calling names to the witch. They were silenced again by Arkreties
who ordered his executioner to break the door down. Picking four burly men he crashed through the door shoulder first and then silence. A scuffle. A scream. Then silence again.
Led by the executioner the men exited the hovel in grim silence. Then the bishop ordered that the house should be torn down. The mob set about the house with what they had many of whom used their bare hands to deliver there holy fury. Mean while the main group headed with the bishop in a gothic procession to the town square. There the witch was put into the gallows and left for the night.

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The witch spent a further day in the gallows so that she could be pelted with vegetables. The bishop ordered that anyone who threw a hard object at the witch should be left in the gallows with the witch. Of course the villagers obeyed the bishop seeing the cold steel in his eyes they knew he was serious.
After her isolation the witch was made to watch as rows of people spoke of her heresy and witchcraft. She could not protest as she had her jaw broken in the house scuffle, worsened by an apple hitting her in the teeth at full speed. After four hours of testimony from the citizens of the village the bishop decided that the accused, believed to be Martha Garson, would be tortured and beaten until she was judged fit to die.
The witch was left in the gallows while a local house was prepared to be used as a torture centre. At the cockerel’s crow she was dragged to the house and tied to a chair that would house her for the next few days.
The beatings were intense and often left the witches cries splitting the ears of all those who heard them. The beatings were performed by the Exorcist and the Executioner. The bishop often commented that the beatings were performed by god’s fist. Each day the two men would leave with blood spilling from their knuckles. Whether the blood was the witches or the men’s they knew not. All that mattered was that they were doing god’s work.

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For a further two days the beatings continued. Each day they were more intense, each day the screams more horrific.
Ten minuets before the witching hour a man ran through the streets of Marshortown his breath failing him he burst into the church. Before anyone could inquire into the ungodly racket he burst forth his payload. “She has confessed my lord” he seemed not to be saying the words more like spewing them forth, the man’s breath was harsh and deep. He was panting at the bishop’s feet almost cowering in a mix of fear of exhaustion.
The bishop was dressed and marched through the town square to the torture house where the witch was doubled over in her chair the chains supporting what her spine had deserted some while back. The executioner was washing his bloodied hands in the water pale to the bishop’s right. “She is ready to die” He exclaimed seeing her wraith like form twitch at the news of her demise he continued “make ready the burning steak.”

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And so it was that Martha Garson was dragged by horse to the steak at the town centre. Standing ten feet tall with a full three feet tall pile of kindling it was indeed a horrifying prospect. She was bound by chains a full inch thick. She was read her last rights and then formally condemned to death. The whole town had turned out as part of the bishop’s orders. This woman would be an example to the whole town the bishop would make sure of it. He spoke the words Malius Malificorum and dropped a brazier onto the pile of kindling.
The roar of the fire was instant and almost deafening and as the witch burned the whole town burst into a mixture of jubilation and chants. The bishop and his retinue watched in silence as the fire liked upwards to the condemned. It’s holy purification grasping closer to the witch as she writhed to escape her just punishment.
Slowly the fire reached her feet and began to singe her, slowly the witch’s rags began to light and soon she was at one with the flame her twisting body melting into the fire. Her hair alight and her skin melting she spewed forth a curse as her eyeballs burst with the temperature and the pressure the fir was creating.
The embers of the fire had died long ago, it had been three hours since the brazier had dropped. The bishop had left an hour ago followed by the trails of people who had wanted to cheer him. He was cheered as he left the town, hailed as a hero who must seek out the unholy.

[Shades]

i absolutly love these do the story part by part things, thats how I prefer to write, and I absolutly am in love with history so you have created a story that is truly welcomed here (and for the rest of u learn to write lmfao j/k)

[vermilition]

what would people learn from me
any way thanks for the feed back i still gotta find out how the teacher marked it when i get the results ill post them on this thread.

[Shades]

k look forward to it.

[vermilition]

well here is some results
from my religous class i got a 1 best mark you can get
and im using it in my folio for english and it should get me a 1 there too.
shame though cause i had to shorten it to 1000 words instead of the 1500 word one you see here!!!