"Don't worry, Mistress Odeil, you aren't in any trouble. We just want to ask you a few questions about your employer."

Belfleur smiled down at the nervous woman standing in front of him. It sent a chill down the housekeeper's spine.

It was just after dawn when a young boy dressed in the scarlet and white livery of the Witchfinders knocked on the back door of the townhouse with a summons, demanding her presence before the tribunal that very morning. It was a demand that struck terror in her heart. She was a God-fearing woman who went to Mass every morning, but it was never a good thing to have the attention of the Witchfinders.

She surreptitiously looked around the tribunal room, noting the bare wooden floors and the plain, whitewashed walls. Morning light sparkled brightly through the windows on the east side of the room. Seven men, dressed all in black with scarlet crosses embroidered on their chests, sat before her in a row along a table that was set on a high dais. This deliberate arrangement placed the magistrates well above her and made them seem even more imposing and authoritative. As Chief Witchfinder, Magistrate Belfleur sat in the center. A fire burned brightly in the huge stone fireplace set in the wall directly behind them. Its placement kept the judges warm, but effectively blocked the heat from the rest of the room. The chill that the housekeeper felt wasn't entirely due to Belfleur's smile. That was, until she realized that the Magistrate appeared to expect some response to his last statement.

"Of..of course, Magistrate." She began, nervously. "I want to help the Tribunal any way that I can."

Belfleur continued to smile. "I knew you would want to help. Your confessor has spoken highly of you. He says you are a good woman. A woman with her eyes turned to Heaven." His voice seemed almost kindly. "It must have distressed you greatly, finding out just what kind of woman had employed you."

"I don't know just what you mean, Magistrate." Odeil said.

"Come now, Mistress Odeil. You are not a child, nor are you naïve. It must have come to your attention that, at the very least, your new employer was an immodest, wicked woman. She lives in a house, openly, with two men that are neither kith nor kin. There are no chaperones, which would barely make it proper. Quite obviously, this must have distressed one such as you, who is known for her piety and morality." His voice, though still soft, had taken on a harder edge.

The housekeeper looked at the Magistrate nervously. It had occurred to her that the household that she worked for was unusual. She had been fairly confident, from the first day, that her new lady was a kept woman and that the two young lords shared her. The three acted much too familiar with each other for the situation to be anything else. Ordinarily she never would have continued to work in such a household, but the money was too good to pass up and she had six young children to feed. (Her husband, God rest his soul, had died last year of the coughing sickness, and it was up to her to keep a roof over their heads and soup in the pot.) Then there were the locked rooms that she'd been told never to enter unless expressly told to do so. It was strange, but, to her mind, most aristocrats had strange idiosyncrasies of some sort or another. Consequently, she'd kept her thoughts about her lady's lifestyle behind her tongue and resolved to simply do her job to the best of her ability. It was only a temporary position, after all. The young lady had made it clear. But now…now she was before the Tribunal and she had her children to think about. God forgive her, but she wasn't going to the stake or the cell to protect any of the three people in that house.

"What is it you'd like to know, Magistrate?"

*******

Belfleur looked down from the dais at the elegantly dressed nobleman before him.

"So good to see you, again, Marquis de Bouvier. I'm just sorry that it has to be under these unfortunate circumstances."

Philippe settled himself more comfortably into the cushioned chair that they had brought into the room, in deference to his rank.

The Marquis leaned back against and crossed his arms. "I wish I could say it was good to see you, as well, Monsieur Magistrate. However, I do not find it pleasant to be ordered to appear before the local Witchfinders Tribunal immediately, as if I were some farmer or shopkeeper. I suggest you tell me what this is all about."

Belfleur drew himself up, his anger at the Marquis's attitude evident in the pursing of his lips. His voice remained low and calm, however.

"Are you suggesting that you are above God's law, Marquis de Bouvier? I assure you, noble or servant, all must answer to God."

Philippe was amused at the Magistrate's attempt to intimidate him. While age may have mellowed his character and made him more affable than the pampered, arrogant boy he'd been, he was still a powerful, highly respected nobleman who knew well his position in the world. He gave Belfleur an amused, slightly condescending smile.

"And I assure you, Monsieur, I have no problem answering to God. What I do question, however, is why I have been dragged before the Tribunal. I am not a witch, nor do I consort with them. I doubt that there is anything I could possibly tell you that would necessitate your summary demand that I appear here with no notice whatsoever. If it was not for my respect for your office and the unpleasant business that you are forced to conduct, I would have had my footmen escort your lackeys from my property. Now tell me what this is about immediately or I will take my leave."

Belfleur matched the Marquis's condescending smile with one of his own. "Are you so sure, M'Lord, that you do not consort with witches?"

Philippe's voice hardened, "Quite!"

"And if I were to tell you that the lovely Julianna, who's company you so enjoyed the other evening, is, in all likelihood, a witch?" Belfleur asked. He enjoyed the Marquis's look of utter shock.

"That is impossible! I told you the other evening that one of their companions was the son of a friend of mine. As for Asher de Morney, I have met his mother. She is a Duchess! She would never allow her son to travel with a witch!" Philippe replied.

"But the Duchess does allow him to travel with a woman of low morals and share said woman with his courtier? The Duchess allows him, in fact, to take such a woman into polite company around proper women?" Belfleur sneered.

"Men often conduct themselves differently while on Tour, as you well know, Monsieur. It is expected that young men will sow their oats before returning home to assume their responsibilities. Also, they have just returned from Italy, where it is quite common for men to escort their mistresses and courtesans to balls and such. While such a thing may be improper here in Flanders, it is not evil, nor does it indicate that the young lady is a witch!"

"What if I were to tell you, M'Lord, that the fair Julianna is the very image of a young lady I was betrothed to over 30 years ago? Did you not say that this son of your friend is identical to his father at that age? Is it not a strange coincidence that two people would be identical in appearance to someone else? And that two such people would just happen to travel in each other's company? How likely is that, I ask you?" Belfleur asked.

Philippe looked up at the Magistrate in disbelief. "It's been over 30 years since you saw her, Monsieur. It's been over 20 years since I saw Jean-Claude de Bouvier. I grant you, the son looks very much like the father, but I cannot swear that they are identical. Memory fades over time, as I'm sure you know. Can you really say that Julianna is identical to the woman you knew so many years ago?"

Belfleur reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold locket and tossed it to the Marquis. "The same thought occurred to me as well, M'Lord, which is why I retrieved this locket from my betrothed's crypt. Open it."

Philippe carefully pried it open. He was stunned to see Julianna's face across from an image of a much younger Belfleur.

Belfleur smiled his cold smile again. "What do you think now, M'Lord?" He asked.

The Marquis didn't know what to say. Could it be true? And if Julianna was the same woman as the girl pictured here, what of Jean-Claude, the possibilities were too much to consider.

Philippe voice was very soft. He didn't look up from the portrait. "I grant you, the miniature is very like Julianna, but paintings are not necessarily accurate..." His voice trailed off.

Happy to have reduced the arrogant lord to near-speechlessness, Belfleur leaned forward to stare down at Philippe. "I assure you, it was a very good likeness of my betrothed. It is also a very good likeness of the fair Julianna. Now, M'Lord, if I have proven that there is a mystery that must be answered, perhaps you would be kind enough to answer a few questions?"

Still staring at the miniature, Philippe nodded his head. "Yes, of course. I must reiterate, however, that Asher is the son of a duchess. A younger son, but a son nonetheless. If he has fallen into the clutches of a witch, everything possible must be done to try to restore him to Grace. We owe it to his mother."

Belfleur nodded in agreement. "The Tribunal has already discussed that matter, M'Lord. It is a difficult situation, but we have resolved that we will take any means necessary to save his immortal soul. Now, what can you tell me of your meeting with these three in Luxembourg?"