‘Stop,’ I say. ‘Please, he’s just a lad, he’s done nowt.’ Earn a stinging slap to the face that sends me crashing to the ground. Stand again, beg again, try again to free him.

I don’t look down the hill to see Daniel make his escape with Annie. He will keep her safe.

They surround us and those holding John’s legs release him, stand him up. He struggles, but they hold him fast. He sobs, calls for Mam.

‘He’s just a lad,’ I shout. ‘Let him be.’

‘This is no lad, but demon in the flesh,’ Gabriel says.

‘Please,’ John says. Holds himself up straight, breathes deep and I see him try to stay calm, keep reason, despite the trembling that quivers his whole body. ‘Please, this is a mistake. I don’t know what you think I’ve done, but ’tis no more than try and fail to earn honest living. And any here look into your soul and find pity, offer me a chance and I will prove decent. As God is witness.’

‘Why did you kill the parson?’ Gabriel asks.

And I hate. The flicker comes to my eye, the shudder to my bones, and I welcome it.

John stumbles back, as if the words knock him. ‘What? Seth? I never touched him,’ he says. Taunts from the crowd. John looks around, eyes wild. ‘Please, I never would. He’s good to us. Please. Let me go.’

‘Was not John that killed Seth and you know it, you carry that guilt yourself, murderer,’ I shout.

Gabriel turns to the crowd, laughs. ‘Oh, the witch-sister would lay blame on me for the killing of a church man, lain out in mockery of Christ and right where these Satan-slaves dwell.’

I launch myself at him, am held back and look to find it’s Bett that pins me. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says, soft in my ear. ‘I cannot let you sacrifice yourself, even for this.’

There is a crescendo of sound, from outside and inside myself. Mam wailing, John begging, the roaring voices around. The growling, growling till it thunders through my bones and I don’t know how Bett has strength to hold me.

Gabriel strikes the first blow. Pitchfork to chest, and John falls. Cries out. Sobs and clutches his wound. Calls for Mam.

I scream his name into the din. Pull against Bett’s arms.

After that, too many to see. Beasts, hollering and beating, each taking a turn, each calling the others on. Weapons, fists and feet. I cannot see John beneath them, cannot hear his cries over theirs. Mam is held back by village women who once were her friends. Bett keeps hold of me, arms around me, head resting against mine as she weeps.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘Close your eyes, don’t look. Oh God, what’s become of us?’