“DON’T DO IT,” her husband said. “I’m begging you not to go.”

Annieke’s only response was to tie her bonnet more firmly, making sure not a wisp of hair was visible.

Marius lowered his voice even more, so there would be no chance the man outside could hear them. People in the village were already suspicious of her comings and goings, her healings and visions. Gossip that she was a shrew, a disobedient, rebellious wife was what the family least needed right now.

“Think of the danger,” he said. “Van der Pol hates you. He has been waiting for this chance. Think of that.”

She turned to him, looked into his sad, alarmed, lovelorn eyes. “I am thinking of those creatures,” she said. “They are the ones in danger, that cat and that dog, not me. They are the ones to be burnt alive if I do not go.”

“The children, then,” Marius said. “Think of our children.”

“I think of them all the time. If they were old enough, they would understand.”

“Promise me, Annieke,” Marius said, “promise me that you will not do anything foolish, that you will hold your tongue.”

For the first time since Meneer Gropius had come to ask for her services, she smiled. “It is not my tongue that matters here,” she said. “But I promise. I will not do anything that you would regard as foolish. And now, I cannot keep tarrying. Justice does not wait for women like me.”

“They will be benevolent,” Marius said, “you will see.”

She nodded, though it was unclear if it was because she agreed or disagreed with him or was simply saying good-bye.

Meneer Gropius was on the doorstep, examining his shoes, first one, then the other, as if he were concerned that there might be some dung clinging to them.

“Ah, Mevrouw Janssens,” he said now. “Thank you for agreeing to expose yourself like this. My dear wife will be very appreciative, as will the kinderen.”

“I am not doing it for her or for you or even for the young ones, bless their souls. I am doing it for God’s creatures. They deserve the chance to be heard.”

***

The hall where the court had convened was abuzz with murmur and chitchat but as soon as Annieke Janssens appeared, everyone fell silent. The three judges looked down on her from the podium.

“Ah,” said the Hoofd Rechter. “About time. Now that Mevrouw Janssens has deigned to arrive, beautiful as ever, we can proceed. You may sit next to the culprits, woman. The closer you are to them, the easier it will be, I am sure, for you to translate how they intend to respond to the allegations brought against them. You are aware of what they have been accused?”

“Everybody in the village knows, sir,” said Annieke, sitting down on a bench next to the two caged animals. “The dog has been charged with biting the ear of the eldest son and heir of the Van der Pol family in Church last Sunday. The cat, of showing glee at this action, meowing for joy as the lad was being attacked. And both of them are also imputed to have drunk from holy, consecrated water immediately afterwards.”

“An impious, diabolical act,” interjected Meneer Van der Pol, who was there both as aggrieved party and prosecutor. “And all of this has been established by many witnesses. Even you were there, Mevrouw Janssens or whatever your real name is, or will you deny what your own eyes saw when my boy was assailed; are you that brash and mendacious?”

Meneer Gropius raised his hand, humbly asked permission to speak. “Annieke Janssens is not here as a witness. My family is not contesting what happened on Sunday. I have asked her to come today so she may help my poor little animals explain why they acted in a fashion so unlike them, so the judges may have mercy on these creatures that my wife loves dearly, that have played with my daughters since they were born.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” said the Hoofd Rechter. “We have heard this already, we have heard testimony as to the good character of these animals. Let me be clear, however: you are not denying that the assault took place nor that they drank from holy water?”

“Who could deny what they did? It is only in the hope that we can understand the reasons that I have brought Mevrouw Janssens here; perhaps her intervention might mitigate their sentences.”

“Annieke Janssens, you may speak.”

Annieke stood up from the bench. “I am not the one who must speak. This dog, this cat, they are the ones who must speak. I cannot represent them until I have had a chance to listen to their story.”

“And this is something that you know how to do, Mevrouw Janssens?”

“Your honor is aware of my modest talents. Did I not heal your horse last year?” She turned to the judge by his side. “And you, did I not help your sow to bear the piglets with little or no pain?”

“Not just animals,” Meneer Gropius interposed. “Many of the most observant people of this village owe their health to Mevrouw Janssens: the herbs she gathers, her soothing words, the touch of her hands. The court cannot doubt her skills.”

“The skills of a witch!” Van der Pol’s voice was strident, his face red as he pointed a large finger at Annieke. “I have never used her services. She casts a spell and then receives a reward for lifting it. She is the one who should be on trial; she probably incited these animals to do their worst.”

There were shouts from the public, some in favor of Annieke, others acclaiming her accuser.

“Silence, silence!” the Hoofd Rechter thundered. “As for you, Meneer Van der Pol, do you have proof to back up your claim?”

“I know what I know. Women like her, they hide their arts and wiles, they are careful to cover their tracks, they creep out at night to dance in the forest, naked and covetous. But here she is now, you will all be able to perceive in the light of day from where she derives her satanic power. She claims she can speak to the animals, though God in Heaven decreed they would be deprived of reason or a soul; they should occupy a lowly rung in the hierarchy of being. Alright, let her communicate, if she can, with this dog that bit my boy, tore off his ear, and with this cat; look at how it licks its paws as if mocking us, daring us to punish its transgressions. Let’s see if it is in such cheerful spirits when the fire devours its limbs and the devils are forced to leave this mortal, foul body where they have lodged in order to do mischief.”

Annieke sighed, made a gesture to the Hoofd Rechter with her hands, as if weary or dismissive or merely pleading, or perhaps all of these together. “Sir, how can these animals be expected to tell the truth if they are being threatened in this way? Could you ask Meneer Van der Pol to refrain from this sort of intimidation?”

“You think the dog and the cat know the content of Meneer Van der Pol’s words?”

“They know everything we say. We are the ones who are unable to understand what they say. If I could be left to deal with them without interruptions, sir, I hope to have news from them soon.”

“Go ahead,” the Hoofd Rechter said. “And you are warned, Meneer Van der Pol. We understand that you are upset about the damage to your son and dismayed, as we all are, that the holy water in the fountain of our Church has been soiled by these beasts; but we must give the accused all the legal rights that they possess, as is customary according to our laws.”

***

It took Annieke a while to calm the dog and the cat down. She hummed to one and purred to the other, she reached into their cages and caressed their heads, allowed them to lick her fingers, waited for their throats to trust her. A wave of fear was what first slapped her like a blaze, fear of the bonfire that was looming with its hot, liquid flames, but also a deeper, more despairing fear that nobody would believe their version, attend to what they had to say. She had to convince them that it was worth the effort, that this was their one chance to speak out, that she would try to be as truthful in transmitting their story as any human could be, and to please forgive any mistranslation; something would inevitably be lost as she transferred into the limited human tongue the rich sensory experience of what it meant to be a dog, what it meant to be a cat. Gently, she coaxed from them what had happened, burrowed into their minds with all the intensity and kindness she could muster, saw the scene again, now from their perspective, let the mewls and woofs, the moans and whines, paint the picture, vividly enough so that she could represent them, no matter how inadequate her own articulations might be.

She quietly thanked the dog, thanked the cat, turned to the judges.

The lad, young Master Van der Pol, had been tormenting living creatures for many years now, ever since infancy. Stomping on anthills, cutting spiders to pieces, crushing the eggs of baby birds in their nests, felling trees that gave shade in the summer and fruit in the spring, pissing in the pools formed by the brook that ran behind the main road to the village; the boy was blind to the beauty and splendor of Nature. The dog and the cat had watched this patiently, waited for his father to teach the youngster that this was wrong. Instead, Meneer Van der Pol, perhaps because he was so rich and was himself abusive with the peasants who worked for him, had encouraged this behavior, told his son that we have been given by God sovereignty over the realm of the plants and the kingdom of the animals to do with them what we will, if it gives us pleasure, if it serves our purpose.

At this point, Meneer Van der Pol interrupted with a protest.

“It is well known,” he said, “that Annieke Janssens envies me my position as the most prosperous member of this community, is angry because I have refused to call her when one of my goats is sick or someone in the household is ailing. She reviles me for trusting in the Good Lord rather than in her devious magic and allures. And now here we have her, using this occasion to malign me, pretending that this is a message from these beasts when it comes from her own dark heart. Outrageous! She can no more understand what these dumb brutes are saying than I can. Unless what she hears derives from some demonic force. In any case, I demand that this mad woman desist from defamatory statements.”

“Mevrouw Janssens, please confine yourself to the events of last Sunday.”

“Last Sunday, agreed. The accused were outside the Church, happily awaiting the sounds of the mass, which they enjoy when they can, believing that our Lord Jesus Christ did not only resurrect to save mankind but also every creature on this earth of ours.”

“Blasphemy,” said Meneer Van der Pol, “to so denigrate our holy doctrine.” Annieke lifted her cross from her bosom, where it had been resting, bobbing up and down when she was agitated, reposing when she had been calming the animals down. She showed it now to the judges and then to the public and finally to Meneer Van der Pol.

“A century ago, in the year of our Lord 1226, there died in Assisi, far from our Low Countries, but close to our hearts, a saintly man named Francis. I say saintly, because he was canonised two years after his death by Pope Gregory. He spoke to the animals as if they were brothers and sisters, and preached to the birds. He listened to the grievances of a wolf that was attacking the people of Gubbio, convinced them to feed him and thus stopped the attacks, avoided bloodshed and sorrow. I am but an ignorant woman in a small village, married to a poor carpenter since the age of thirteen, unschooled except for what the flowers have taught me, but even I have heard of the acts of Saint Francis. And if he were here today,” Annieke summed up her argument, returning the crucifix to her bosom, “it would not be necessary for someone like me to have responded to this summons.”

“We are not here to discuss theology or Italian friars,” said the Hoofd Rechter. “We are here to determine whether a crime has been committed and if so, what punishment should be meted out so that such conduct will not be repeated in the future. This court has found animals guilty when they have misbehaved, especially pigs; we have ordered pigs hanged in an exemplary way for assaulting our townsfolk and destroying crops, but we have also shown mercy when it has been proven that these creatures meant no malice or were justified in their actions. Let us proceed.”

She explained that on Sunday the boy, young Master Van der Pol, had arrived at the Church earlier than most of the flock and had gone out of his way to kick the dog and spit at the cat, disturbing them as they rested in the sweet sun of that morning. The animals had done nothing to warrant such an incursion nor did they react to it, letting the lad disappear, unmolested, into the vestibule. They had then drawn near to the door, as they were wont to do on the Day of the Lord, to better absorb the sermon and the chants of the choir and the responses of the congregation, adding their own melodies and yowls and vibrations to the prayers of men, women and children. And in that providential activity they had been engaged when their tormentor crept out from the Church with a slingshot and, without rhyme or reason, had smacked them with several sharp stones, whereupon the affronted parties had been unable to contain their righteous anger and had taught him a lesson. The dog was acting more in indignation at the boy desecrating a holy space than out of a desire to redress any offence it may have suffered. The dog swears that it merely nibbled at the ear of the miscreant and is sorry that the boy’s stupid attempt to free himself from this just chastisement had led to blood being spilled. As for the cat’s meows, they had not been of joy but rather of concern for the health of Master Van der Pol who, despite his cruelty towards them, was a fellow inhabitant of this fallen world and worthy, therefore, of care and attention. The cat freely admitted that it had been the one to suggest to its dog companion that they both lap up some water from the nearest source they could find and sprinkle the injured ear, only later learning that this came from a fountain that had been blessed by our Holy Mother the Church, an act for which they asked forgiveness, though they also were glad now that the water was hallowed, as that might help the boy’s ear to heal all the sooner.

“And this convoluted tale,” the Hoofd Rechter said, “you garnered from your exchanges with the defendants?”

“I translate what I hear, sir. They do not speak with words as humans do, but still they have much to say, a host of complex thoughts and feelings contained in gestures and eyes, infinite nuances in their growls and purrs. I have tried to convey what they lived through as well as I could, even if it is impossible for mortals to really step across the line that divides us from our friends in the animal kingdom.”

“And what say you to this account, Meneer Van der Pol?” “There is no corroboration for it, good sir, none at all. My boy has been known to misbehave, as boys do from time to time, but never in the ways that this sorceress has implied. And I can vouch that last Sunday he did none of the things she has imputed. He was with me and his mother when the events took place, from the moment the family arrived in Church until he was vilely attacked by this cur, urged on by that feline, which we all know is the preferred companion for witches and women of loose morals. Unless another witness were to come forward to attest to the absurd story she has concocted to get her partners in crime acquitted, I ask that the maximum penalty be applied and I receive compensation from the owners of these pets, so that the Gropius family keeps its animals under a tighter leash and most definitely keeps them away from Church on Sundays, if not all other days of the week.”

“And you, Meneer Gropius, what is your response?”

“I am sorry for the damage done and willing, though we can ill afford it, to pay a fine, if the court will be so merciful as to spare these dear animals who, up till now, have never hurt anyone, and are the delight of my wife and kinderen.”

“Very well. We will now confer.”

Annieke stayed by the animals, murmuring to them as she watched the three judges whisper to each other, back and forth, her hand back and forth over the neck and back of the dog, of the cat, as the men who would decide their fate went back and forth, back and forth with their words that they thought only they could hear; that they did not know the animals could understand, so much so that both cat and dog were aware of the conclusions that had been reached before they were announced. She could tell this was so because something stiffened in the muscles of the dog, the throat of the cat clutched up, she was ready for what the Hoofd Rechter would declare before the words left his mouth.

“We have reached a verdict,” the Hoofd Rechter said and the other two judges nodded.

***

Marius knew that something was wrong as soon as his wife entered the house, by the way she took off her shoes, placed them too deliberately in a corner by the front door, did not want to meet his gaze. He had learned that he must wait until she was ready to speak.

“The children?” she asked finally.

“Still with my mother.”

“Good that I married a wise man,” she said.

She went to the stove and smelled the vegetables cooking, the stew she had made early that morning when she expected that Meneer Gropius would come to ask for help that would stop her from that sort of chore the rest of the day. She shuddered at how much she enjoyed that succulent aroma, the steam rising and tickling her skin, the warmth of the logs, as if nothing had happened, as if everything could go on the same as before.

Without showing Marius her face yet, her back still to him, she said:

“They are dead. All that I managed was to spare them the fire, that pain, at least. And be by their side as they were hanged, tied and muzzled so they would not fight back and then hanged. I was allowed to stay by them as they died, one thing that proves the judges are not entirely heartless. Though I do not think they are partial to me, not at all.”

“They…?”

“I was warned to be careful, that the judges and others had their eye on me, that they did not find my testimony valid and suspected that I had made up the account, that I should not expect them to be so lenient if I persisted in telling lies, claiming I could speak to animals, to be wary of appearing as if I were a saint, as the devil has many guises.”

“And that is all?

“This is not enough?”

“Something else,” he said, “there is something else.”

“Nothing else,” she said. “They are dead and I could not save them and I must be careful.”

He knew that this was not all. He hoped she would be forthcoming later that evening, when the children were asleep and the bewilderment of her body was beneath or above his or afterwards; or maybe tonight there would be no celebration of their love, maybe it would be days before they were interfused in the enchantment of that embrace. Maybe they would have to wait until her eyes had lost their clouds and her skin its mist and the sorrows of today had been softened by time; then he hoped that she would tell him, confide in him as she always had.

This time, however, it would be different.

She could not tell him what the muffled howling of the animals portended as they were carried away to be hanged, forecast as the rope was tightened around their neck, what her hands felt and ears heard as they gasped their last.

She knew their prophecy would come true.

She knew that a day would come, many centuries hence, when what had been done that day would come back to haunt the descendants of the men who condemned this dog and this cat to death. She knew that this was just one profanation among many, that the animals were not the only ones to be murdered, that somehow – she did not understand how this could be so, but it could not be denied – the trees would be killed and the water poisoned and the very air every living creature breathes and the fish in the sea. Annieke’s heart broke to think that if the verdict that afternoon had been of another kind, if those judges had been able to cross the frontier into the pulsating life of those being accused – she was filled with desolation when she thought that if they had only listened to the animals, then the apocalypse they had warned her of could have been avoided. But no. This was the vision she had inherited from the dead. The mistreatment suffered that day would be visited on many tomorrows. There would be all Hell to pay: fire and drought, famine and pestilence, ravaging waters and wind.

And none of this could she reveal to Marius or anyone else. All she could do was to repeat the prayer she uttered while her friends were dying.

Marius listened as she got down on her knees by the bed where they conceived their children; he listened and tried to understand what revelation had come to her, he tried to understand and could not.

It was a psalm, that much he knew, the one that, according to what travelers and mendicants tell, St. Francis had asked to be read to him as he lay dying.

“I cried unto the Lord with my voice; with my voice unto the Lord did I make my supplication. I poured out my complaint to him; I showed before him my trouble. When my spirit was overwhelmed within me, then thou knewest my path. In the way wherein I walked have they laid a snare for me. I looked at my right hand, and beheld, but there was no man that would know me: refuge failed me; no man cared for my soul.”

Marius wanted to tell her that she was not alone.

But maybe she was, maybe there was nothing that even he could do to relieve whatever ailed her.

“I cried unto thee, O Lord. I said, Thou art my refuge and my portion in the land of the living. Attend unto my cry, for I am brought very low. Deliver me from my persecutors, for they are stronger than I.”

She stopped and then, gathering strength from who knows what dawn inside her long night of the soul, what birds high in the air above, she went on:

“Bring my soul out of prison, that I may praise thy name. The righteous…”

But she faltered, could not continue, could not end the psalm as she always had, with the assurance and confidence that the bounty she hoped for would ever arrive.

Because the Lord did not answer her as the dog and the cat were taken away and the Lord did not answer her now.

It was as if she dwelled in a deep cave.

What else could she do, then, but pray that her words and the words of all the animals of the universe would be heard by somebody, somewhere before it was too late.