Fanny by Erica Jong

to distract her Friend from some Troublesome Thought I knew not of, “let me prophesy your Future.”
    She was, she said, an excellent “Skyrer,” or Crystal Gazer, but she had made very few Predictions of late for fear of reviving the Charge of Witchcraft, from which she had so narrowly escap’d.
    “Is there such a Thing as Witchcraft?” I askt, sincerely wishing to know.
    “Ah, Fanny,” said Mother White, “’tis a Subject so complicated that no two reasonable Persons can speculate upon it and find themselves of one Mind.”
    “Not true at all,” said Mother Griffith, contradicting Mother White like a cantankerous old Husband who doth not agree with his wife’s Conversation. “There’s but one Explanation for Witchcraft and ’tis nothing more than the Enmity and Fear that Men bear for Women!”
    “’Tis not so simple, Joan!” says Mother White, her blue Eyes flashing. “’Tis a Question of Old Beliefs carried on despite the Preachments of the Church…. For doth it not say in Exodus, ‘Thou shalt not suffer a Witch to live’? And in Leviticus , ‘Turn not to Mediums or Wizards’?”
    “’Tis not the Point at all, Isobel,” says Joan warmly, her Voice becoming fever’d, her Expression serious and intense. “Many innocent Women have been burnt and hang’d thro’out Europe and e’en here in Merry England, because they knew Midwifery or Herbal Cures, or e’en because they were dislik’d and People wisht to steal their Land.”
    “True enough,” says Isobel, “but Fanny wishes to know whether there is such a Thing as Witchcraft or no, and all your Fury doth not enlighten her one Whit!”
    ’Twas almost droll how they argu’d betwixt themselves. I had not seen the like of it since I had witness’d an Argument betwixt Mrs. Locke the Housekeeper and her Husband Locke the Butler. They had been married upwards of twenty-five Years and were e’er engaged in Domestick Strife, much to the Amusement of the other Servants.
    “Fanny, my Dear,” says Isobel, “let me tell you my Opinion concerning Witchcraft and then Joan can tell you hers. ’Tis my Belief that in Ancient Times, in the Pagan Albion of Old, Women were not as they are now, subservient to Men in ev’ry Respect. Rather they were Queens and Priestesses, responsible for the Fructification of the Crops, and the Multiplication of the Herds; they were the Leaders of the Holy Rituals—”
    “E’en the very word ‘Witch,’” Joan interrupted, “derives from our Ancestors’ Word ‘Wicca,’ meaning only ‘Wise Woman.’”
    Isobel lookt cross. “Are you quite finish’d, Joan?” says she. “Will you hold your Tongue now and let me speak?”
    “Yes, yes,” Joan mumbl’d, looking not a little vext.
    “Well then,” says Isobel, “when Christianity came to these Isles, ’twas the Task of the Church to stamp out the Old Religions, but some of the remaining Wise Women would not relinquish their Learning, their Spells, Charms, and Healing Pow’rs, the which they had learnt at their Mothers’ Knees—”
    “’Twas all White Magick, too!” interrupted Joan. “Nothing at all for Harm—but the Priests in their Fear told the ignorant Country Folk to fear us—”
    “Will you hold your Tongue?” says Isobel.
    “Very well,” says Joan.
    “So these Wise Women,” continu’d Isobel, “were oft’ denounced, tortur’d, or kill’d; but if they were truly wise, they practis’d secretly—”
    “As we do,” said Joan, smiling.
    “ Hush !” said Isobel.
    “You—you are Witches?” I gasp’d, suddenly afraid of these two kindly old Ladies.
    “Of course we are, Pet,” said Joan.
    “O dear, O now you’ve ruin’d it.” Isobel sigh’d, burying her Head in her Hands.
    “Fanny won’t betray us, will you, Dearling?” Joan askt, more with Menace in her dark Eyes than Beseechment. I’faith, I would be afraid to do so, I thought, for fear of Reprisal.
    “Upon my Word, I will not,” said I. “I swear it by all