‘Papists,’ he said. ‘Hidden from sight, continuing with their rituals of abomination behind closed doors, but there are those among you who know of such happenings.’ He paused long enough for his audience to begin shuffling and examining their hands under his accusing stare. ‘And innocent you may be, and godly you may be in your own practices, but if you turn a blind eye to the work of the Devil through your neighbour then you are as sinful as he. And I in my duties to God and King and country must smoke out these traitors and bring them to justice, and you in yours must aid me.’

Daniel leaned forward a little, his stomach turning at each word, watching the furtive glances pass between those who called each other friend. Sam Finch, sunken-eyed and grey-skinned, stood a way apart from the fisherman Turner. Still, each let his eye slide to the other every so often, laden with guilt and suspicion.

‘And worse than this: witchcraft. Suspicious happenings, with a want of any natural explanation. Beware the darkness that broods amongst you. Light your candles at night, leave a jar to ward off evil at your doors. If you do not turn this malevolence away then you invite it in. Come instead to me, the instrument of right, and light, the very means by which the King asserts his will to you.’

A movement at the open doorway, barely there but he saw because he waited for it, knew it to be Sarah passing on her return from the secret visit to her family. He slipped round the side of the barn, at the edge of the crowd who all were intent upon the words of the magistrate.

‘Evil can bear the face of neighbour, friend, even family, those we trust, those we love,’ he was saying. ‘Look about you with sharp eyes. Those that hide wickedness become wicked. I call upon you to speak your suspicions in clear and honest voice and I will act. The only way to protect the innocent is to punish the guilty.’

Daniel had reached the door and already in his mind he and Sarah were at the river, her skin spilling warm beneath his hands. He made to step free of the barn and the foul words within, but these last held him. He had not attended when the brawling men were put in the stocks. Still, Gabriel’s description of how folk had jeered, hurling rotten cabbage and stones, had been unavoidable.

‘That lad Joshua fell to snivelling and calling out for his mammy by the end,’ he had said as they shovelled dung. ‘Little runt.’

‘Poor lad,’ Daniel said.