“We need more rope!” someone said.

“Just throw her in from the bank as she is, tied,” came the suggestion. “See if she can get out on her own?”

“The mill wheel.” Mrs. Miller was inspired by spite. “Strap her on the mill wheel.”

Incredulously, her husband looked at her. “On my wheel?” he demanded.

“Two turns!” someone said from the back of the crowd. “Strap her on and turn it twice in the millrace. That’s a fair test.”

“My wheel?” Mr. Miller said again. He looked at Sir William, horrified.

“It turns fast?” his lordship asked quietly. “You can dunk her and bring her out again?”

“It can turn fast if it’s not milling,” the man said. “If the stone’s not engaged, it will go as fast as the water pours in.”

“Two turns,” his lordship ruled, raising his voice over the murmurs of excitement. “And if she comes up alive, she’s no witch. She repays the money, and she’s released. Agreed?”

“Aye. Fair enough, yes. Agreed,” the people called out, excited at the prospect of a witch trial, looking from the slight woman to the huge wheel, which stood motionless, the bottom blades deep in the millrace, the upper blades white with frost in the freezing air.

Alinor’s knees were buckling beneath her, she swayed on her feet, fainting with fear. She had lost her voice. She barely knew where she was. James could not look at her, as two of the searcher women took her bound arms at the elbows and half led and half dragged her away from the bank of the millpond, to the platform at the side of the wheel. The women tightened her hands behind her back, and twisted the rope around and around her breasts and her swelling belly.

“Better than hanging,” Sir William reminded James, as they stepped on the platform beside the wheel.

“She’s terrified of water,” James whispered.

“Still better than hanging.”

The men had to lift her, as limp as a new corpse, up to the mill wheel.

“Put her on the blades of the wheel,” Mrs. Miller suggested at the forefront of the crowd. “Tie her on so she don’t slip off.”

Wordlessly, Mr. Miller gestured to the mill lad to hold the wheel steady by stepping on it with both feet, holding the green blades, and leaning back as a counterweight, as they lifted Alinor by her shoulders and legs and laid her on one of the blades of the wheel. They took another rope and lashed her on.

“Make sure she’s tied tight,” Sir William ordered. Aside to James he said: “We don’t want her falling off and getting trapped under the wheel.”

James could see her rounded belly as they laid her on her back on one blade, the second blade just inches above her face, the golden tumble of her hair falling loose against the green of the weedy wooden paddles. She did not cry out, or scream for help; she had not said a word since she had sent Rob away. He realized she was speechless with terror.