Edwin Earle
“Seems a shame to lose three souls in such a short time.”
“One in retribution for two,” Edwin offered in rebuttal to Father Avery’s banter. “That aside, the woman was a heathen and a murderess.”
The good reverend made a noise in the back of his throat that rested somewhere between defeat and distaste. “Still, killing the one doesn’t make the two any less dead.”
Edwin turned on his heel and watched Eliza’s limp body, moving ever so slightly in a rhythmic sway. Avery followed suit. “I’m sure I fail to see your point.”
Father Avery shrugged. “Just seems a shame.”
A small, furry
something pressed its head against Edwin’s leg, and he didn’t have to even look down before he slowly pushed it away with his foot. The long-haired cream and brown cat
mreow? at him and circled to the other leg instead. Avery bent down to pick her up and she set about to climbing around his shoulders.
“Did she ever visit your congregation?”
“Mattie?” he asked, idly reaching up to scratch Gwyndolin behind the ears. “Many times over the years.”
Edwin shook his head, removing his spectacles and examining them for a spot that he knew didn’t exist. “Eliza.”
“Aye, she did.” The reverend paused. “Why do you ask?”
Spectacles replaced, Edwin took a moment to look at Father Avery. Whatever he was looking for in that inviting-yet-detached expression wasn’t there. He looked away. “Curiosity, I suppose. It’s interesting to see a witch pretend to live a life of piety.”
“Must the two be mutually exclusive?” Avery mused, more to himself than to Edwin. The judge hummed in acknowledgement, urging the reverend to go on. “Some of the most pious men I’ve met have been little more than deceitful reprobates. So why must it be, then, that the inverse cannot be true of the heretics?”
That earned little more than a scoff of disdain. “Practicing apostasy in the name of the Mother?” The judge’s tone was flat and without humor. “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard a father of the church preach the holiness of heresy.”
“If I had to make an astute guess based on the amount of time you’ve spent in
my congregation, I would assume that’s because you’ve not met many fathers of the church.” Before Edwin could rebut, Avery turned and made to descend the stairs from the gallows. Gwyndolin moved about his shoulders with her usual graceful ease, staring back at the judge as the two moved further and further away. She stretched one brown paw out at him before immediately losing interest and turning her attention forward. “You should make it a point to visit more often, Edwin. You may very well learn something about these people before you hang them.”
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James Avery
He was thankful for solid ground and the excuse to leave. Height wasn’t normally much of a bother to James, but something about being in such close proximity to an active death made him vastly uncomfortable. When he was far enough out of earshot, he scooped Gwyndolin from his shoulders and held her at arm’s length in front of him. Her back feet dangled in the air, but she didn’t seem particularly bothered.
“Why do you like him?” he whispered to her, making eye contact and holding it for a single, significant second before he decided that cats couldn’t talk and he wasn’t like to get an answer out of her even if she
could speak. Gwyndolin gladly retook her perch upon his shoulders, body swaying slightly from side to side in time with his steps.
Dealing with Edwin was always on the bottom of his list of things he’d rather not be doing. It wasn’t that he disliked the man - quite the opposite, in fact, in spite of their typically egregious interactions. Their roles as judge and reverend were inherently not meant to co-mingle, and so, too, were their professional opinions vastly different. As a holy man, James held tight to the belief of hating the sin and loving the sinner. As a judicial authority, Edwin cut out the middleman and just killed the sinner. He had his moments, though.
Gwyndolin crossed from shoulder to shoulder while they were in motion, using her claws to balance herself, much to James’ disdain. She purred at something behind him and wrapped her long,
voluminous tail around his head. He tolerated it for a moment because she was so lovely, but it almost immediately became annoying and he went to move it out of his face. It came a fraction of a second too late though, and he only managed to brush her tail with his fingertips before she clawed her way down his back and left. She did so often; cats were untameable and were going to do as they pleased, and James envied them this. Nevertheless, he still felt a small twinge of concern every time she strayed too far from him.
She hadn’t wandered too far, though, James realized as he turned around to follow her with his eyes. He smiled. “Hello, Simon.”