Witchcraft and Sorcery: Witch Or Not a Witch? 15th Century Notables Associated with Witchcraft

By Ginger Myrick

"... Do you want your child to be burned for a witch? If someone should catch her at it, they will cry witchcraft and claim she is consorting with the devil ..." 

The quote is from my second novel, THE WELSH HEALER. The main character, Arlais, is in fact not a witch, but she would most definitely have been regarded as one in 15th century England. I did not go on a witchhunt (pun intended!) but my research surprisingly turned up a few historical figures who were looked upon with eyes of suspicion: Joanna of Navarre, Queen consort of Henry IV of England; Joan of Arc, who was tried and burned at the stake for heresy; and Margery Jourdemayne, the Witch of Eye. 

Joanna of Navarre was accused of witchcraft by her stepson, Henry V, who up until the allegation was said to have a friendly relationship with her. Although she was known to have employed two learned men adept in prognostication, the charge was widely believed to be an excuse for Henry to imprison her then confiscate a good portion of her fortune in the name of his quest for the French crown. She was held from 1419-1422, but after her release, she lived out the remainder of her life as Dowager Queen of England. 

As I have explored in previous posts, Joan of Arc’s prosecutors would have liked to have her declared a witch to expedite her trial and execution. Alas, she foiled their plans from the start by passing a moral inquiry and earning the label of a good and virtuous Christian. Even up until her fiery demise—the result of a lengthy detention and drawn out trial for heresy (her accusers’ Plan B)—she maintained that her mission had come from God. She was posthumously cleared of the heresy charge and declared a martyr, then canonized by the Catholic Church nearly 500 years later. 

But the last woman on the list, Margery Jourdemayne, seems a more likely candidate for being a witch in deed and truth. Although little is known of her origins, the Witch of Eye became a prominent figure in respected mystical circles of her time, which included colleagues proficient in all manner of supernatural practices: astronomy, astrology, prognostication, herbal healing, charms, potions, spells, etc. She was apparently adept at her craft as evidenced by the following verse: 

"There was a Beldame called the wytch of Ey, 
Old mother Madge her neyghbours did hir name 
Which wrought wonders in countryes by heresaye 
Both feendes and fayries her charmyng would obay 
And dead corpsis from grave she could uprere 
Suche an inchauntresse, as that tyme had no peere." 

The Witch of Eye was so well known that there are accounts of high-ranking figures—Edmund Beaufort, 2nd Duke of Somerset for example—who sought out her council. Many women at court also used Margery’s services, and from 1430-1432 Madge was held at Windsor Castle for a sorcery related offense. She was released on her vow to behave herself and cease practicing witchcraft. Unfortunately, it was a promise she could not keep. 

Her claim to infamy and subsequent undoing came some years later in 1441 through her association with Eleanor Cobham, Duchess of Gloucester. Eleanor was the second wife of Humphrey of Lancaster, 1st Duke of Gloucester, son of Henry IV of England, uncle to the king at the time, Henry VI … and next in line to the throne. Aah, the plot thickens! 

In October of 1440, Roger Bolingbroke and Thomas Southwell, two men in Eleanor’s employ, cast a horoscope predicting the death of Henry VI, her beloved royal nephew by marriage. If he were to die without issue, his passing would elevate her husband to the position of King of England and herself to that of Humphrey’s dutiful Queen. Needless to say, when Henry learned of the intrigue, he was not amused. The suspects were rounded up, charged, and put on trial for their crimes against the crown. 

Margery Jourdemayne was also implicated in other dubious activities associated with the plot. Eleanor confessed to having an extended relationship with the notorious Witch of Eye and that she had previously acquired from the woman potions for her health and creams to preserve her beauty. On this occasion, however, the Duchess claimed that she had consulted her friend on the simplest of women’s matters; She wanted to become pregnant to provide her husband with an heir. Regrettably, the evidence of the enterprise—a melted wax figure—was unrecognizable and misconstrued as a device to effect the death of her nephew, the king.  
Even more lamentable was the result. All involved, including the two astrologers, were found guilty of necromancy, witchcraft, and treason. Eleanor got off with the lightest punishment. She was sentenced to do public penance, her marriage to the Duke of Gloucester was dissolved, and she was imprisoned for the remainder of her life. Bolingbroke suffered a traitor’s death of being drawn, hanged, and quartered, Southwell perished in the Tower of London, and Margery Jourdemayne, the Witch of Eye, was burned at the stake at Smithfield.

Ginger Myrick was born and raised in Southern California. She is a self-described wife, mother, animal lover, and avid reader and knitter. Along with the promotion for THE WELSH HEALER, and EL REY, she is currently crafting her third novel, which takes place during the U.S. Civil War. She is a Christian who writes meticulously researched historical fiction with a ‘clean’ love story at the core. She hopes to persevere with her newfound talent and show the reading community that a romance need not include graphic details to convey deep love and passion.

  

Witchcraft and Sorcery: Portrait of a Salem Witch

By Kathryn A. Kopple

I was knocking about my in-laws house when I discovered a book:  Witch’s Breed:  The Pierce-Nichols Family of Salem by Susan Nichols Pulsifer.   Being from Connecticut, as I am, you hear a lot about witches.   They are part of the lore and history of the region. “Giles Corey of the Salem Farms,” a play by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was published in the late 19^th century.   Corey was “pressed” to death for being in league with the Devil.   According to legend, his ghost appeared whenever a disaster would strike the town of Salem.  Arthur Miller’s masterpiece “The Crucible” (published in 1952) was a standard of New England High School productions.   In 1956, Ann Petry’s young adult read Tituba of Salem Village came out.   

            And yet, all the years of my childhood and well into my adulthood, I had never met a descendant of the infamous trials—that is, until I turned the cover of Witch’s Breed to read the following inscription:  “For my dear great-nephew … who is the direct descendant through his mother’s family (sic) Susanna Martin of Massachusetts…”  It was then I realized that not only was I living among a witch’s descendants, but I had married into the family.  My husband must have known this from an early age as, in what was obviously the work of a child, he had penned his own dedication:  “Thank you Aunt Susan for the book and the writing in the book too.”

            The name Susanna Martin didn’t ring any bells, which made me more than curious.  How had I, having grown up in New England, never heard of this woman?  Who was she exactly?  Where had she come from?  What was her role in the Salem Witchcraft Trials?  Naturally, I asked my husband, who explained to me that her unfortunate circumstances stemmed from the fact that she was an elderly widow and she may have been a Quaker.  The Puritan persecution of Quakers in the colonies is historically documented.  Once, he said, he’d gone to the Salem courthouse to read the transcripts of her trial, and came away convinced that she, like so many others, was innocence of any wrong-doing—never mind the ridiculous accusation of witchcraft.   The entire tragedy could be explained in terms of the vulnerable social position of women; the fact that Susanna owned valuable land; and the greed of her neighbors.  From the way he spoke of her, I could tell that he thought her intelligent, decent, and outspoken.  He respected her both as a human being and as a martyr.  In a horrible miscarriage of justice, she had been found guilty of witchcraft and hanged.

          

Salem witch trials, source: WikiCommons

  Of course, I was fascinated.  Susan Nichols Pulsifer—poet, genealogist, world traveler—came up often in family discussions.  She was brilliant and intrepid, by all accounts, and my mother-in-law was obviously very fond of her.  I wished I had met her.  But I had her book. I turned the pages in search of Susanna.  On page 29, she is depicted before the magistrates, denying that she had ever had any hand in witchcraft.  The magistrate asks if she knows what “ails thefe people.”  Susanna’s responses are straightforward:  “I do not know.”  “No, I do not think they are [bewitched].”  “I desire to lead my life according to the word of God.”  “If I were such a person [referring to her accusers] I would tell the truth.” 

            Although Susanna was unknown to me, I was well versed in the dreary evidence that allegedly proved allegiance to the dark lord.  Cakes made of hair, blood, urine; dolls stuck with pins; fits (most likely seizures); unseemly behavior (a broad category); the ability to transport oneself;  cause disease by a mere look;  refusal to recite Scripture.  In Susanna’s case, she was subjected to particular humiliation while incarcerated:  she was stripped in an effort to find what was known as the Devil’s “teat.”  Although no such growth was found on her body, it was entered in court transcripts that her breasts were unusually full at certain times of day and flaccid at others—which led her jailors to believe that she had suckled the Devil.  The ignorance of the female body and its function made women a target for superstition of all kinds, and Susanna suffered for it.

            The allegations that led to her eventual hanging in 1692 were preceded by two accusations brought against her:  the first, she had strangled to death an infant she had born out of wedlock, and her second child was also a bastard.  Her husband, alive at the time, defended his wife and she was acquitted.  But the stigma attached to her didn’t go away so easily.  Other stories circulated:  crops failing, animals doing her evil bidding, and her habit of verbally threatening people who displeased her.

            None of this impressed me.   It was disheartening to think that so many women throughout history had to suffer the same fate.  I was intrigued by one detail of the case that seemed out of the ordinary:  Susanna was described as always attractive and clean.  Indeed, one of her neighbors testified that she had walked to her house during mud season and arrived without so much as a stain on her.  Teasingly, I said to my husband:  “Perhaps she was guilty after all.”  To which he responded something to the effect:  No, she wasn’t, and to suggest anything of the sort is stupid and cruel.

            And he was right.  There was nothing to laugh about.  Susanna had a difficult life, spoke out in her own defense, and died a gruesome death.  I would not speak lightly of her again. 

Kathryn A.Kopple is the author of Little Velásquez, a novel set in 15^th century Spain.

                        

Witchcraft and Sorcery: The king and the pricker - witch hunting in Scotland

The king and the pricker - witch hunting in Scotland

By Blythe Gifford

While the English “witch finder” Matthew Hopkins and the Salem, Massachusetts witch trials may be more familiar to many readers, some of the most horrific witch hunts of the 16-17^th centuries took place in Scotland.  Several waves of witch hunting washed through the country, over a period of roughly 200 years, resulting in a total of some 1,500 deaths, compared to perhaps 1,000 in England.  Other estimates are that Scotland, with a quarter of England’s population, executed three times the number of witches as England did.

There is much speculation and little certainty about exactly why that is so.  I’ll withhold theories, but today, I’d like to focus on two peculiarly Scottish contributions to the history of witch hunting:  first, the direct involvement of the king and second, the phenomenon known as the “witch pricker.”

The Scottish King James VI (son of Mary, Queen of Scots and later crowned as England’s King James I) was obsessed with witchcraft, so much so that he authored an eighty page treatise on the subject, Daemonologie, in 1597.  Although witchcraft in Scotland had been illegal and punishable by death since 1563, the persecution of witches did not really take hold until the king made it a personal crusade.  (Among his “contributions” to the cause was to authorize torture.)

James VI Scotland/James I England

Why was he so obsessed?  Because he was, for a time, convinced he had been a victim of witchcraft.  During a visit to Denmark, home of his future bride, Anne of Denmark, he is said to have been exposed to a theory of witchcraft not yet prevalent in Scotland; one that focused on demonic compacts and groups of witches working together in league with Satan.  This idea apparently weighed on his mind as several rough sea crossings nearly prevented Anne and James from returning to Scotland alive.  The Danish admiral blamed witches for working black magic against the royal couple.  The king must have believed him, for soon, persecutions in both countries began, and the accused included nobles of the Scottish court.

Across a multi-year period, from 1590-1593, the investigation culminated with the execution of around 70 witches in North Berwick.  The king took a personal interest in the trials, and even in the torture of some of the women.  And interestingly, the charges included treason as well as witchcraft, indicating that the king believed he had personally been a target and the crime not only a religious, but a civil one.  His subsequent authorship of the Daemonologie placed him firmly on the side of those who argued that rational men could, and should, believe that such evil existed, insisting it was possible for witches to “rayse stromes and tempestes in the aire, either upon land or sea, though not universally; but in such a particular place and prescribed bunds as God will permitte them so to trouble.”

Pamphlet written by James VI on the North Berwick witch trials

After he became England’s king in 1601 and moved south, his views moderated significantly.  Arguments as to why include the greater skepticism of the English and may also include his experience with Anne Gunter, a young  woman who accused others of witchcraft and later confessed that she had made it all up.

A footnote for those who know “the Scottish play.”  The three witches in MacBeth are thought to have been modeled on some passages of the Daemonologie, an attempt by Shakespeare to please England’s new king James I.

No such moderation of views occurred in the Scotland he left behind.  Witch hunts continued sporadically, with the largest wave in 1661-62.  And the methods of witch hunting in Scotland were more brutal than those in England. Some claimed it was because of differences in the legal system, but the torture routinely practiced in Scotland was gruesome.

Which brings me to the other Scottish contribution to mass witch hunts:  the “witch pricker.” 

These finders-for-hire traveled the country, paid to search for witches and paid better when they found one.  And while the methods of the English “witch finders” such as Matthew Hopkins were grim enough, the witch pricker had a particular slant on things.

The theory was that each witch would have a witch’s mark, given to her by the Devil.  The witch pricker examined the suspected witch (overwhelmingly, though not exclusively a female) for the mark.  (Theory was that Satan, in essence, seduced the

Witch Pricks

women, so the mark would often be found near her most private parts.)  This mark was supposed to be insensitive to pain, so that when jabbed with a sharp, brass prick, the witch would not flinch or cry out or bleed.  If the point of the price disappeared into the mark and the witch did not cry out, the witch pricker had then proven the suspect’s guilt.

The descriptions of these processes, often witnessed by a crowd of observers, are chilling.  More chilling, however, was the discovery that at least some of these pricks were designed with retractable points.  In other words, to an observer, it looked as if the pin penetrated the skin and came out without so much as blood on it.  In reality, the witch pricker had a perfect scam going.  How many women were put to death because of this ruse, we don’t know.  When, finally, one of the most notorious prickers, one John Kincaid, was exposed, it marked a turning point in Scotland.  Witches were still hunted and tried, but torture had to be authorized by national councils instead of simply conducted by local authorities in the grip of fear and frenzy.

These “stranger than fiction” facts haunted me as I developed my next book, THE WITCH FINDER, which will be released later this month.  For those who want an in depth look at the Scottish witch hunts, ENEMIES OF GOD, by Christina Larner, is a comprehensive beginning.

After many years in public relations, advertising and marketing, Blythe Gifford started writing seriously after a corporate layoff. Ten years and one layoff later, she became an overnight success when she sold her first book to the Harlequin Historical line.  Since then, she has published eight romances set in England and on the Scottish Borders, many featuring characters born on the wrong side of the royal blanket.  THE WITCH FINDER will be released in the fall of 2013. For more information, visit www.blythegifford.com  Author photo Jennifer Girard

Witchcraft and Sorcery: The medieval Franks’ complicated relationship with magic

By Kim Rendfeld

Officially, the Church in the days of Charlemagne prohibited magic, but in practice, the Franks’ employed the supernatural in everyday life.

As noted in other posts in this series, medieval folk were rational, but their world did not include the science and technology that we use to explain and manipulate our reality. For people in the Middle Ages, magic and religion were the means.

Someone hearing voices telling them to burn down the house? Must be demon possession. A hailstorm devastate your crops? Must be an angry God. Or sorcery. Or both.

Interestingly, Bishop Agobard of Lyon did not believe in witches, but he was in a distinct minority. To most medieval folk, you ignored supernatural forces at your peril.

Charlemagne did not take chances. Before a 791 battle with the Avars, he participated in three days of litanies, with barefoot priest and abstinence from wine and meat (or giving alms instead) – and he wrote to his wife, Fastrada, to make sure these rituals were also performed at home. This was all done to make sure God would favor the Franks in the coming war.

A ninth century piece called Talisman of Charlemagne
(photo by Garitan, shared under
Creative Commons Attribution license)

But his contemporaries did not turn to religion only. Both clerics and the laity wore amulets and charms alongside their crosses (like the heroine of my first novel, The Cross and the Dragon) and paid fortune tellers and dream interpreters. A midwife might whisper spells to a woman in labor to hasten the birth, and peasants recited incantations to keep their horses from being injured. A sick child might be brought to the roof a house to heal while herbs burned. Models of arms and legs were hung in trees for healing the actual limb. Funerals included wakes, a way to appease the dead.

The belief in magic was too powerful for the Church to stop, so it adapted. It tried to replace pagan spells with prayers for rain, a good harvest, and healing of the sick. The Host was place in a dead person’s mouth instead of a coin.

But the Church and its followers were not completely tolerant.  After a storm, three men and a woman were brought to in chains Agobard to be stoned. Another penalty: being sealing in a cask and thrown into the river, the fate of a nun Charlemagne’s grandson King Lothar wanted to be rid of.

Empress Judith, as portrayed in
a circa 1510 manuscript
(public domain image)

Allegations of sorcery were a political cudgel, especially against a woman (thought to be more vulnerable to the devil). Lothar’s partisans accused his stepmother, Empress Judith, of ensnaring her husband, Louis the Pious, through witchcraft, and they threw in adultery for good measure. Judith was able to acquit herself by swearing an oath in front of an assembly.

A less friendly audience would have required her champion to go through a trial by ordeal – for instance sticking his hand in boiling water and grabbing a rock. If the wound was not infected, that was a divine sign of innocence. The same system that threatened someone sometimes could free them.

Images via Wikimedia Commons

Kim Rendfeld is the author of The Cross and the Dragon (2012, Fireship Press) and The Ashes of Heaven’s Pillar (forthcoming, Fireship Press). Magic and religion play a strong role in both novels, set in the earlier years of Charlemagne’s reign. Learn more about Kim and her work at kimrendfeld.com.

Witchcraft and Sorcery: You might just be a witch if…

By Lisa J. Yarde

Medieval people in Europe were a superstitious lot. As unexplained phenomena appeared in the skies, and plague, famine and other calamities befell them, they looked for explanations from the Church. A belief in witchcraft and sorcery flourished as a result. You might wonder what would cause such panic-stricken beliefs among masses of people. It would be wrong to say medieval people acted without reason; within their realm of understanding, they remained unaware of certain scientific concepts we take for granted today. Altered perspectives allowed the birth of the Renaissance and the Age of Enlightenment later in society, but for most of the medieval period, whenever tragedy took hold, many blamed witches. Views about the potency of witchcraft and sorcery extended into later periods evidenced by the hysteria of the Salem witch trials in the late 17^th century.

Throughout the ages, stereotypes of witches have been consistent. Invariably, witches were women. Sometimes the old and infirm, but in Anglo-Saxon times, people deemed most young, unmarried women as witches, especially those looking to cast love spells to get husbands. Common thought prevailed that by their naturally weak nature, women were more susceptible than men were to the Devil’s influence. Women with their domain often restricted to home and family developed an interest in the healing arts, from which the idea of the white witch derived. English people in the Middle Ages relied on the invaluable aid of wise women who knew the healing properties of plants. More troublesome were the witches who practiced dark arts with a malicious intent.

During the late Middle Ages in 1486, two Dominican monks Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger created the Malleus Maleficarum or Hammer of the Witches, summarizing over 200 years of thought about medieval witchcraft. The text served as a guidebook for inquisitors in the identification and elimination of elements of witchcraft from European society. The Malleus Maleficarum became a response to changing societal attitudes about whether witches were real. The book affirmed that witches were a valid threat to Christians and laid out means for discovery and eradication of the practice.  According to the book, Christians had a duty to root out witches and certain groups could so this without impunity. Naturally among them were agents of the Church and the inquisition.

Reading the Malleus Maleficarum gives insight into the medieval mindset. In such thinking, the Devil was real and the book condemns the Devil’s use of the witch as an agent of immorality; in effect, the Devil had taken over a witch’s will and it was only by the strength of her character or lack thereof that the Devil could not or could achieve a desired aim. The text also acknowledges the differences between women as faith or folk healers and those who practice dark magic, indicating that just because a woman does the former, it doesn’t make her susceptible to the latter.

Why were witches such a plague on humanity? The book indicates the extent of their powers:

For they raise hailstorms and hurtful tempests and lightnings; cause sterility in men and animals; offer to devils, or otherwise kill, the children whom they do not devour. But these are only the children who have not been re-born by baptism at the font, for they cannot devour those who have been baptized, nor any without God's permission. They can also, before the eyes of their parents, and when no one is in sight, throw into the water children walking by the water side; they make horses go mad under their riders; they can transport themselves from place to place through the air, either in body or in imagination; they can affect Judges and Magistrates so that they cannot hurt them; they can cause themselves and other to keep silence under torture; they can bring about a great trembling in the hands and horror in the minds of those who would arrest them; they can show to others occult things and certain future events, by the information of devils….

Any natural occurrence or accident could be the result of witchcraft. Who did the Malleus Maleficarum single out as being susceptible to its effects?  In medieval times, you could have been a witch or afflicted by one if…

You were wearied by life’s trials, which isn’t such a stretch to imagine given the drudgery of the medieval period. Also, if you neglected or corrupted your spirituality.

There are three methods above all by which devils, through the agency of witches, subvert the innocent, and by which that perfidy is continually being increased. And the first is through weariness, through inflicting grievous losses in their temporal possessions. For, as S. Gregory says: The devil often tempts us to give way from very weariness. And it is to be understood that it is within the power of a man to resist such temptation; but that God permits it as a warning to us not to give way to sloth.

You had any carnal thoughts.

…Towards young girls, more given to bodily lusts and pleasures, they observe a different method, working through their carnal desires and the pleasures of the flesh. Here it is to be noted that the devil is more eager and keen to tempt the good than the wicked, although in actual practice he tempts the wicked more than the good, because more aptitude for being tempted is found in the wicked than in the good. Therefore the devil tries all the harder to seduce all the more saintly virgins and girls; and there is reason in this, besides many examples of it.

You were poor. In an age where the effects of feudalism had reduced large numbers of the population to an almost servile existence, those Inquisitors must have been hard-pressed to deal with increased evidence of witchcraft among people who had no choice in their socioeconomic status.

There is also a third method of temptation through the way of sadness and poverty. For when girls have been corrupted, and have been scorned by their lovers after they have immodestly copulated with them in the hope and promise of marriage with them, and have found themselves disappointed in all their hopes and everywhere despised, they turn to the help and protection of devils; either for the sake of vengeance by bewitching those lovers or the wives they have married, or for the sake of giving themselves up to every sort of lechery. Alas! experience tells us that there is no number to such girls, and consequently the witches that spring from this class are innumerable.

Since witches would not confess their crimes, even under rigorous torture or unless the demons that had taken hold of them suddenly fled and thereby loosened witches' tongues, Inquisitors had to adopt a variety of methods. After all, there were wrong ways to undo witchcraft. Using counter spells was a no-no. Only sanctified religion could remove the taint.  How would a clergyman get rid of a witch? By invoking God through prayer.

…There must be nothing in the words which hints at any expressed or tacit invocation of devils.

Secondly, the benedictions or charms must contain no unknown names; for according to S. John Chrysostom such are to be regarded with fear, lest they should conceal some matter of superstition.

Thirdly, there must be nothing in the words that is untrue; for if there is, the effect of them cannot be from God, Who is not a witness to a lie.

Fourthly, there must be no vanities, or written characters beyond the sign of the Cross. Therefore the charms which soldiers are wont to carry are condemned.

Fifthly, no faith must be placed in the method of writing or reading or binding the charm about a person, or in any such vanity, which has nothing to do with the reverence of God, without which a charm is altogether superstitious.

Sixthly, in the citing and uttering of Divine words and of Holy Scripture attention must only be paid to the sacred words themselves and their meaning, and to the reverence of God.

Seventhly, the looked-for effect must be left to the Divine Will; for He knows whether it is best for a man to be healed or to be plagued, or to die.

And if that didn’t work? Torture might induce the desired reaction.

The Judge should act as follows in the continuation of the torture. First he should bear in mind that, just as the same medicine is not applicable to all the members, but there are various and distinct salves for each several member, so not all heretics or those accused of heresy are to be subjected to the same method of questioning, examination and torture as to the charges laid against them; but various and different means are to be employed according to their various natures and persons.

So, if one method didn’t produce the desired result, inquisitors were to try other methods of gaining a confession, including:

If he wishes to find out whether she is endowed with a witch's power of preserving silence, let him take note whether she is able to shed tears when standing in his presence, or when being tortured. For we are taught both by the words of worthy men of old and by our own experience that this is a most certain sign, and it has been found that even if she be urged and exhorted by solemn conjurations to shed tears, if she be a witch she will not be able to weep: although she will assume a tearful aspect and smear her cheeks and eyes with spittle to make it appear that she is weeping; wherefore she must be closely watched by the attendants.

Hard to believe that anyone subjected to the torture methods of the medieval period, which included branding and racking could bear up without shedding tears.

During examinations of the accused, the book cited the following requirements for inquisitors.

And if it can conveniently be done, the witch should be led backward into the presence of the Judge and his assessors.

A second precaution is to be observed, not only at this point but during the whole process, by the Judge and all his assessors; namely, that they must not allow themselves to be touched physically by the witch.

The third precaution to be observed in this tenth action is that the hair should be shaved from every part of her body.

Throughout the 250 years encompassing the Inquisition period, the Malleus Maleficarum became the standard for dealing with witchcraft in Christian Europe. Nearly all of the hundreds of thousands accused of using sorcery were women, but other scapegoats for misery included non-Christians, Jews and Muslims who converted to Christian, heretical sects among Christians, Gypsies, midwives and poets. Proof that just uttering the word ‘witch’ had a devastating effect on European life.

All images from Wikimedia - Creative Commons attribution license. Quotes of the Malleus Maleficarum take from http://www.malleusmaleficarum.org/.

Lisa J. Yarde writes fiction inspired by the medieval period. She is the author of historical novels set in medieval England and Normandy, The Burning Candle, based on the life of Isabel de Vermandois, and On Falcon's Wings, chronicling the star-crossed romance between Norman and Saxon lovers. Lisa has also written three novels in a six-part series set in Moorish Spain, Sultana,  Sultana’s Legacy and Sultana: Two Sisters, where rivalries and ambitions threaten the fragile bonds between members of a powerful family.  

Witchcraft & Sorcery: The Art of Seidr in the Viking Era.

By Michelle Styles

The Vikings were the last great pagan  European culture prior to their conversion to Christianity in approximately 1000 AD.  What we know about their religion comes primarily from the Prose and Poetic  Eddas which Snorri Snorrson  wrote sometime in the early 12^th century . So the exact role of sorcery and witches is not known.

We do however know that Odin gave his eye so he could acquire knowledge. He also hung by his left foot (perhaps the origin of the Hanged Man in Tarot) so that he could learn the runes. Odin apparently possessed the ability to shape shift and used to wander the world in different disguises. He apparently taught his priests sorcery in exchange for their various sacrifices. It is said that the goddess Freya taught Odin much of what he learnt as she was part of the Vanir.

The Vikings  believed in seidr or the practice of witchcraft. (quite probably like shamanism). There was white and dark seidr.  White seidr included the arts of healing , controlling the weather and the ability to call up game and fish for the hunter. The black form included the power to raise the dead, curse an enemy, blight land and destroy love.

There is some evidence that the ritual connected with seidr included chanting as there is an Christian era law which prohibits the use of spell-chanting or galdresang. It is also possible that seidr had some relation to spinning and the distaff as spells were often supposed to spun or woven.

From various  Eddic poems, particularly ‘Loki’s Quarrel’ stanza 24 it is clear that most practitioners of the art of seid were women as Loki taunts Odin as being less than a man for having practiced it. It apparently included tinkling of bells and womanish body movements.

Some people speculate that the Oseburg ship  does not contain a queen but rather a great sorceress. The reasoning being that among the grave goods was an ornate staff which is associated with witchcraft and several cannabis seeds.

Unfortunately most of the rituals have been lost once Scandinavia became Christian  Like many other places, witches  went from being held in high esteem to being persecuted. This reached a height during the 17^th century when in northern Norway over  150 people (mostly women) were killed as a result of witch trials. In 2011 Queen Sonja of Norway opened a memorial to the victims.

Michelle Styles writes warm, witty and intimate historical romance in a wide range of time periods, including Viking. Her last book Paying the Viking’s  Price is published by Harlequin in November 2013. You can learn more about Michelle and her books, including reading extracts on www.michellestyles.co.uk

Witchcraft & Sorcery: A witch in medieval England

By Lindsay Townsend

One of the difficulties of considering the situation of witches in medieval England is the sources. Most of our information comes from trials in clerical or secular courts, and often these were motivated not by fear of sorcery but by greed, spite and politics. In England some kings feared witches – or found that accusing former mistresses or wives of witchcraft was an easy way to dispose of them, much as later Anne Boleyn was accused of sorcery by her disgruntled husband Henry Tudor. These events were partly high politics. What of the position of witches in more everyday, village settings?

Witches: a series of sketches attributed to Pieter Breughel
(or to Hieronymus Bosch) (Source: Wikimedia Commons).

One clue comes from the folklore surrounding plants. Peonies, rowan and St John’s Wort, for example, were believed to protect households from sorcery, which shows how much witches were feared. At the same time, there were those men and women, known in many part of England as ‘cunning folk,’ or ‘wise men/women,’ who were turned to for help in fortune telling, charming and healing.

In the Middle Ages in England everyone was a bit of a witch because everyone believed in magic, often as a curious blend of pagan, folk and Christian ideas. Peasants would chant the Lord’s Prayer over their penned cattle each night, ending with singing ‘Agios, Agios, Agios’ around them every evening as a piece of protective magic. A mixture of charms and prayers were used to solve all manner of problems, and ranged from curing toothache by appealing to the Lady Moon and then praying, to the Anglo-Saxon prayer-charm ordering the devil of pain to flee 3 times and give way to Christ. 

Rowan, a protection against witches.

Nobles had magic gems and amulets to protect them from evil.  A medieval  ring discovered at the Palace of Eltham, Henry VIII’s childhood home near London, was set with ruby and diamonds and carried an inscription promising the wearer luck. Merchants also had  gems and rings to protect themselves, much as people in modern times might wear a St Christopher to give them luck on a journey.  A burglar would  throw a crushed magnet over hot coals to inspire the household  to leave and let the thief work in peace. Priests would use blessings and  prayers such as the Lord’s Prayer and add a charm or two to effect an exorcism or expel illness.  Even the legends of saints have them using charms and magic to cure ills. When all sickness was seen as the result of evil, then it made sense to use ‘good’ magic to counter it.

If a man had to go to court, he might tuck a spray of mistletoe into his clothes to ensure he was not convicted. If he wished to inflame a woman’s lust, then he could slip some ants’ eggs into her bath. However, there were times when such simple ‘magic’ might not work (believe it or not) and people would seek out a recognised practitioner of magic.

To raise the dead or a demon needed a person skilled in rituals, who knew Latin, Greek, writing, astrology and fumigation and many of these necromancers were ex-priests or clerics. Some could be involved in the dangerous business of assassination by magic. In 1325 the necromancer  John of Nottingham was accused of taking money in return for killing the king by making a wax effigy of  Edward II and sticking pins into it. John was acquitted.

For love magic, however, and to inspire or stop affection, most people turned to their local ‘cunning folk’, especially the local midwife/healer or perhaps a white witch - who would use magic and witchcraft to good ends and within a Christian setting, using prayers as well as charms. These people could be both feared and revered  and were vulnerable to being accused of evil-doing if a person or animal fell sick. 

Throughout the Middle Ages good witches were mostly tolerated in England. It wasn’t until 1401 that the first act of parliament against witchcraft was passed. If a person was convicted of witchcraft, it was regarded as a form of heresy and the offender was excommunicated. In 1438, Agnes Hancock was excommunicated by a clerical court when she could not account for the meanings of some of the words she used in her love charms. The church took a dim view of love spells, feeling that they interfered with people’s free choice, but it wasn’t until the late Middle Ages or beyond that women casting such spells were threatened with burning.

If you are interested in learning about an English medieval ‘good’ witch in a fictional setting, please see my novels, The Snow Bride and its sequel,  A Summer Bewitchment.

Lindsay

http://www.lindsaytownsend.net
http://www.twitter.com/lindsayromantic