You’ve heard of the Witches’ Uprising of course, in 1789, under the Archwitch Dulcinea Wilkes?”
Charles nodded. Everyone knew about Dulcinea. It was like being asked if you knew about Guy Fawkes.
“Now that,” said Mr. Wentworth, “was a respectable sort of uprising in its way. The witches were protesting against being persecuted and burned. Dulcinea said, reasonably enough, that they couldn’t help being born the way they were, and they didn’t want to be killed for something they couldn’t help. She kept promising that witches would use their powers only for good, if people would stop burning them. Dulcinea wasn’t at all the awful creature everyone says, you know. She was young and pretty and clever—but she had a terribly hot temper. When people wouldn’t agree not to burn witches, she lost her temper and worked a number of huge and violent spells. That was a mistake. It made people absolutely terrified of witchcraft, and when the uprising was put down, there were an awful lot of bonfires and some really strict laws. But you’ll know all that.”
Charles nodded again. Apart from the fact that he had been taught that Dulcinea was an evil old hag, and a stupid one, this was what everyone knew.
“But,” said Mr. Wentworth, pointing his pipe at Charles, “what you may not know is that there was another, much more unpleasant uprising, just before you were born. Surprised? Yes, I thought you were. It was hushed up rather. The witches leading it were all unpleasant people, and their aim was to take over the country. The main conspirators were all civil servants and army generals, and the leader was a cabinet minister. You can imagine how scared and shocked everyone was at that.”
“Yes, sir,” said Charles. He had almost stopped being frightened by now. He found himself trying to imagine the prime minister as a witch. It was an interesting idea.
Mr. Wentworth put his pipe in his mouth and puffed out smoke expressively. “The minister was burned in Trafalgar Square,” he said. “And Parliament passed the Witchcraft Emergency Act in an effort to stamp out witches for good. That act, Charles, is still in force today. It gives the inquisitors enormous powers. They can arrest someone on the mere suspicion of witchcraft—even if they’re only your age, Charles.”
“My age?” Charles said hoarsely.
“Yes. Witches keep on being born,” said Mr. Wentworth. “And it was discovered that the minister’s family had known he was a witch since he was eleven years old. A lot of research has been done since on witches. There are a hundred different kinds of witch-detectors. But most of the research has been towards discovering when witches first come into their powers, and it seems that most witches start at around your age, Charles. So, these days, the inquisitors keep a special eye on all schools. And a school like this one, where at least half the pupils are witch-orphans anyway, is going to attract their notice at once. Understand?”
“No, sir,” said Charles. “Why are you telling me?”
“Someone thought you recited a spell,” Mr. Wentworth said. “Think, boy! If I hadn’t happened to know what you were really saying, you’d be under arrest by now. So now you’ll have to be extra specially careful. Now do you see?”
“Yes, sir,” said Charles. He was almost frightened again.
“Then off you go, back to devvy,” said Mr. Wentworth. Charles turned around and trudged over the threadbare carpet to the door. “And Charles,” called Mr. Wentworth. Charles turned around. “Take a black mark to remind you to be careful,” said Mr. Wentworth.
Charles opened the door. Two black marks in one evening! If you got three black marks in a week, you went to Miss Cadwallader and were in real trouble. Two black marks! Both for things which were not his fault! Charles turned around while he was closing the door and directed the full force of his nastiest double-barreled glare at Mr. Wentworth. He
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