The Eve of St John Father Brown

TWIGS CRACK, RUSTLING

TINKLING CHIMES

SHE BREATHES UNEASILY

Hello?

TINKLING GETS CLOSER

Is anyone there?

SHE SCREAMS

Now. Following the repeal of England's 1736 Witchcraft Act,

Pagans are literally coming out of the woods.

Sorry, sorry. Sorry.

One such is Eugene Bone,

self-styled High Priest of Crows Coven in Kembleford.

Named and shamed.

Indeed we are.

Mr Bone denies that the covens are an excuse for...

This is hardly suitable for a young lady's ears.

Oh! Don't stop on my account, Reverend Allsworthy.

-Yes. Um...

-HE CLEARS HIS THROAT

Um...Mr Bone denies the covens are an excuse for...sexual orgies,

claiming, "We merely drink and dance and work a little magic."

However, when challenged, the...warlock admitted that

these ceremonies are performed sky clad which is to say...naked.

Well! It sounds rather liberating.

-Nakedness is a sin.

-But not a crime.

Think of the Germans with their Freikorperkultur.

We don't want their sort in our village.

Witches or Germans?

-Either.

-Sorcerers...

..doing the devil's work.

You're confusing them with Satanists.

Witchcraft is a spiritual path,

which is rooted in nature and the cycle of the seasons.

They tarnish our reputation and endanger our flocks.

Which is why the Council has asked that we clergy form a committee

to report back on the moral threat.

I assume we can count on your support?

You can assume that I intend to see for myself before I pass sentence.

And I suspect that I will find we have nothing to fear.

-Hey!

-Come on, she's here! Run!

Ha-ha! Mad witch! For goodness' sake.

SHE SCOFFS

Eugene!

Eugene. There's graffiti all over the wall.

Although why on earth I should be surprised

when you persist in exposing us to the world.

We no longer have to hide in the dark.

Nor in the full glare of publicity.

The shopkeeper could barely look me in the eye.

You chastise me for evangelising?

You evangelise yourself, Eugene.

And if you think self-aggrandisement will allay prejudice,

you're a bigger old fool than...

KNOCK ON DOOR

We have visitors. I somehow doubt they'll be friendly.

Selina Crow?

Yes.

Father Brown and Mrs McCarthy from St Mary's

and this is Miss Windermere.

Friend of St Mary's Church.

Are you here to burn us at the stake?

We're here to invite you to dinner.

Friday is St John's Eve, which coincides with your summer solstice.

Litha.

We celebrate the marriage of the God and Goddess and the union

that creates the harvest fruits.

We celebrate the birth of St John, and traditionally,

locally, it's a time when we welcome newcomers into the community.

Back in the day, people laid tables outside their houses

and all were invited.

We, of course, will be eating in the dining room.

You're asking us to a Christian feast?

Think of it more as a knees-up.

Trust me, they're in short supply round here.

Let's not dwell on our differences, but embrace our similarities.

Eat, drink and be merry together.

-PEOPLE CHANT:

-Hail! Hail! Hail!

O, Lord of Nature and the Hunt, be with us this night.

Hail! Hail!

-Hail! Hail!

-WHIP CRACKS

O Ancient One, join us, O Horned One, join us,

Lord of the Greenwood, Lord of the Wild,

Consort of the Goddess, join us.

O Goddess, your servant calls you.

O Horned one, join us.

Are you ready to suffer to be purified?

Consort of the Goddess, join us.

You are about to enter a place beyond imagining...

..where joy and pain...

..meet and make one.

I'm teeing off at noon so this had better be good.

Reported murder, sir.

Witness came in first thing this morning and made a statement.

Milk and three sugars, and don't forget the garibaldis.

GOLF CLUBS CLATTER

You haul me in on my day off to investigate

"ritual sacrifice of a dusky slave maiden",

as reported by the village soak.

I thought you'd like to know, sir.

Which only goes to show how little you know me at all, sergeant.

You'd have us sup at the devil's table?

St Peter tells us to give hospitality without complaint.

I'd have us set an example.

You did hear what happened last night?

And last week Goggles Malone said he saw

a flying saucer over the village hall.

Perhaps the witches curdled the milk?

My domestic arrangements leave something to be desired.

You lost your wife in the Blitz.

Wife...

..daughter,

church and a quarter of my parish.

I'm sorry.

My elders sent me here to escape the evil,

only for the evil to follow me.

They worship other gods.

It doesn't make them evil.

What's with the tree jewellery?

Charms against evil. This is witches' land.

Witches' land?

Has been for centuries.

Selina Crow inherited the cottage and these woods

from her aunt, Kathleen Crow.

Was this aunt also a witch?

So it was said. But she kept herself to herself. Not like this lot.

BIRD SQUAWKS

What was that?

That, sergeant, was the sound of a wild goose.

You don't believe in witches, sir?

I'm a city boy, born and bred. We didn't have witches.

Maybe it's the lack of woods.

I don't like the look of it, sir.

Bad taste isn't a crime.

And there's no sign of ritual human sacrifice.

So I vote we leave so I can salvage the remnants of my day off.

You got something planned with the wife and kids later, sir?

Keeping as far away from them as possible.

Sir!

What now?

Blood, sir.

How did you get on, Father?

I think we face an uphill struggle.

People fear what they do not understand.

You surprise me, Mrs McCarthy.

Never had you down for open-minded.

Mrs McCarthy's grandmother was a wise woman.

What you would call a white witch.

People came from the four corners for her remedies.

But you'd still find her at Mass on a Sunday.

Mrs McCarthy's grandmother was a witch? What delicious irony.

Oh!

Talking of delicious, what's on the menu, Mrs M?

Wild mushroom soup, roast lamb and my summer pudding.

Well, we certainly put on a good spread.

We?

Best left to the professionals, isn't that right, Father?

-I think that's wisest.

-No, she doesn't get off that lightly!

Here you are, madam.

I need three pounds of wild mushrooms for my soup.

I take it you do know what a wild mushroom looks like?

Oh, ye of little faith.

Bone, Eugene.

Crow, Selina.

You aren't, I take it, man and wife?

We're handfasted. Our union blessed by the Goddess.

Bound in body and soul.

No.

I'd be obliged if you could account for your whereabouts last night.

We celebrated the summer solstice with our coveners.

And this celebration took place where?

At our place of worship.

-That would be in Crows Wood?

-Yes. Why do you ask?

Describe to me what happened at this...celebration.

The usual.

We drank and danced,

and worked some magic.

Can I ask what the usual dress code is for this sort of occasion?

The traditional witch's costume - that is to say, the skin.

Naked.

Can I ask what this is about?

The alleged assault of a young woman last night.

Early 20s, dusky skinned, which makes her easy to identify.

We don't get a lot of exotics in Kembleford.

Then I imagine you are looking for me.

Hello?

-Oh!

-SHE SIGHS AND LAUGHS

Reverend Allsworthy. What are you doing here?

Um...I was just taking a walk.

Great minds, it seems.

Hardly. I'm on a fungi hunt.

And they are elusive little beasts.

Oh, well, perhaps you need a knight to aid you in your quest.

Dione Moon.

D-I-O-N-E.

M-O-O-N.

Thank you, Miss Moon. And you were at this gathering last night?

It was my initiation.

In the presence of the Goddess, Guardians,

mighty dead and brothers and sisters of the Craft.

As the subject of these allegations, we'd be grateful if you share them.

A reported assault with a whip.

Ritual flagellation.

We suffer in order to learn and be purified.

And a man in a ram's head committing an attack with a sword.

The High Priest's sword.

Used to cut the clothes from the initiate.

Man to woman.

Woman to man.

Can you explain why we found blood on the floor?

My offering of the essence of life to the deities.

Fortunately, a few drops are usually sufficient.

So you claim you were unharmed?

I can prove it, if you like.

Ritual scourging transcends us to a higher place -

inflicts pain without damage.

Would you like a closer look, inspector?

I think we've seen enough, thank you.

"Trees which are good for mushroom hunting include

"beech, oak, birch and pine."

Do you know your beech from your birches, Reverend Allsworthy?

I wonder if you would mind a word of advice?

Fire away.

I'd have more luck searching for the Scarlett Pimpernel.

You are young and, dare I say, sheltered.

This dinner of Father Brown's, it's highly inappropriate.

I take people as I find them.

And aside from being partially clothed, I found them to be perfectly charming.

Well, it is they who have charmed you.

And I fear they aren't the only ones.

Father Brown is... He's well-meaning.

But hardly someone to look to for moral guidance.

There are things about him I doubt you're aware of.

I feel as though you're about to enlighten me.

He has a reputation as a trouble seeker.

I believe the police find him very tiresome

and his bishop is just waiting for an opportunity to have him...

Oops-a-daisy.

I'm stuck on a root.

Would you give me a hand?

I think you already have one.

Kembleford Police Station.

Can you give me a precise location?

Yeah. Well, don't touch anything.

I'll get reinforcements to you as soon as possible.

I'll leave you to write up the report. Adios, sergeant.

Sir, wait!

A body's been found up at Crows Wood.

Could this day get any better?

What were you doing in Crows Wood?

-We were taking a walk.

-Looking for mushrooms.

When you found the body, did you disturb anything?

-No.

-Yes.

Can't you see Miss Windermere is traumatised?

Reverend, oh, take a pew.

Step aside, Padre, your work here is done.

Female. 20s to 30s judging by the clothes.

Jewellery, so we can rule out robbery.

Garments undisturbed so ditto sexual motive.

Looks like her skull was crushed with a blunt object.

Query stone. Date of death is anyone's guess.

Is the police surgeon on his way?

-He is, sir, yes.

-Er...

Some time in March would be my guess.

Oh, pray, do enlighten us.

Well, the soles of the shoes are covered in bluebell leaves

which appear in March but no sign of the flowers,

which bloomed in the second week in April, as I recall.

And...I also found this.

Removal of evidence.

I was about to give it to the sergeant when you appeared.

I suppose you've had a good snoop?

Curiosity is not a crime.

More's the pity or you'd be serving life without probation.

Shopping lists and household accounts.

Er...have you seen the last entry?

Now I suppose you're going to tell us what it means.

I have no idea.

What a refreshing change.

At least there'll be something for the police to investigate.

What's that round her wrist, sir?

Some sort of restraint?

It's a rowan cross.

"Rowan tree and red thread will tyne the witches speed."

Oh, riddle-de-dee. In English, please.

It's a charm. Against witchcraft.

Reverend Gillespie and Reverend Allsworthy are here, sir.

Get rid of them.

I need more pesky priests like a hole in the head.

Reverend Gillespie and Reverend Allsworthy are HERE, sir.

Good afternoon, gentlemen. What can I do for you?

This body in the woods is causing a lot of unsettlement.

It's early days. We've yet to identify the victim.

There's speculation it's the Potter girl.

Dolly Potter, sir. Person reported missing at Easter?

Dorothy Potter. 23. Bit of a tearaway.

No suspicious circumstances, ditto evidence of foul play.

Case was closed.

She only lived a mile from that godforsaken place.

And given what Goggles Malone saw...

Mr Malone's allegation was investigated

and found to be unsubstantiated.

Not quite, sir.

I stand corrected. Found to be down to misinterpretation.

So if you'll excuse me, my sergeant here will show you out,

allowing me to get on with my enquiries.

This way, gentlemen.

So you didn't manage to bring back a single mushroom?

You do know, of course, that mushrooms are best picked at daybreak.

Well, I was rather sidetracked by the discovery of a rotting corpse.

Yes, well, trust you to find an excuse.

And you are not going to find the answer staring at that.

-The word in the village is it's Dolly Potter.

-Ha!

I appreciate you're not one to gossip, Mrs McCarthy.

Indeed I'm not.

But I have it on very good authority that she's alive and well,

and living in sin with a signalman from Little Bigham.

And?

Pam Tickle saw her at Moreton-in-Marsh

when she was changing for the Bristol train.

She dropped into the station cafe for a cup of tea and a bath bun

and there was Dolly Potter behind the counter, bold as brass.

Angel and saint rolled into one, Mrs McCarthy.

The nearest station to Crows Wood is Great Pickford.

And the 4.17 to Moreton-in-Marsh...

..connects with the 5.03 to London Paddington arriving 7.19.

GP. MIM. LP.

She was catching a train.

Somehow I doubt that.

What woman would travel from the back of beyond to London

in the clothes she stood up in?

With me, Bunty.

Where are we going?

Crows Wood.

Well, you might bring me back some mushrooms while you're there!

You know, this is a Hundred Acre Wood.

We've as much chance of finding a bear of very little brain.

And even if she had a bag, maybe the murderer stole it?

And leave her jewellery?

So why not bury it with the body?

Well, maybe they didn't want their victim to be identified.

Well, I vote we take a breather and you pray for a miracle.

God helps those who help themselves, Penelope.

Father!

The inspector's going to love us.

I somehow doubt it.

Someone packed in a hurry.

Spelling prize 1931. St John The Baptist Primary School.

"Eruditio et Religio."

So we know she was a good speller.

It also seems she was a witch.

Lilith's.

She's...

she was a member of our coven.

What can you tell me about her?

She was a free spirit.

Her full name would do for starters.

Lilith Lafitte. She was a poet.

Quite well known in literary circles.

When did you last see her?

The 29th March. The day after our spring equinox.

And you didn't see or hear from her after that?

As a member of your coven, didn't that strike you as unusual?

In your own time.

We had...a difference of opinion.

Go on.

Lilith intended to publish a Book of Shadows.

What you would call a spell book.

You'd share secret rites with every Tom, Dick, and Harry

who strays into a bookshop?

They were secret only when we were forced underground.

Now is our time.

They are not yours to share.

Nor yours to hoard.

It's a new world, Selina.

There's no room in it for retrogrades.

Then I will not circle with you.

It would have been a tad melodramatic to throw her out.

She packed her things and left for the station.

Did anyone see her leave?

Are we to assume we're under suspicion?

We've ruled out robbery and sexual motive,

which leaves the possibility that she knew her killer.

So I'd like you all to account for your whereabouts at the time.

Eugene took to his bed with a migraine

so I went to get willow bark for a remedy.

And would these willows be in Crows Wood?

By the stream. Not near where she was found.

Which also leaves you unaccounted for.

I wasn't alone.

I was with my mentor.

I was giving her instruction.

Giving her...instruction.

Then it would appear that I alone am without an alibi.

Duly noted, Miss Crow.

Be sober, be vigilant.

-For your adversary, the devil...

-SHOUTS OF AGREEMENT

..as a roaring lion, walketh about,

seeking whom he may devour!

They come into our community, flaunting heresy.

And while the police drag their feet,

well, do we lock up our womenfolk?

-Or do we protect ourselves?

-Yes!

CHEERING

Sorry. Excuse me, it's an emergency.

Mortal at the very least.

A mortal sin, no less?

There's about to be if you don't get to Crows Corner, statim!

There shall not be found among you

anyone who burns his son or his daughter as an offering,

anyone who practises divination

or tells fortunes or interprets omens,

or a sorcerer or a charmer or a medium or a necromancer

or one who inquires of the dead.

We don't want 'em here!

ANGRY SHOUTING

For whoever does these things is an abomination.

This is getting out of hand. An ordered protest, we said.

If they don't leave, we'll smoke 'em out.

Think what you're doing. This is all highly illegal!

I insist you stop this immediately.

Burn the witches!

ANGRY SHOUTING

Have you taken leave of your senses?

Shame on you all.

-Murderers! They're murderers!

-CROWD SHOUTS AGREEMENT

On what evidence?

Who else would murder a black-eyed witch but one of their own?

Does anyone have evidence?

Shall we have a show of hands?

No-one?

Go home, please, all of you,

before you do something you cannot undo.

It seems that you are a lone voice in our defence.

We owe you our gratitude.

She was very striking.

It doesn't do her justice.

She had a hypnotic quality.

Eyes like pools of ink that could drown you with a stare.

She hypnotised you. Although it didn't take you long to find a replacement.

A toast.

Lilith.

-Lilith.

-Lilith.

Miss Windermere! Miss Windermere. Has something happened?

Oh, haven't you heard?

Dragged through a hedge backwards is quite the look this season.

Either that or a sadistic madwoman forced me out into the woods

at daybreak gather mushrooms.

Here you are and I hope you're satisfied.

All this fuss about a bit of honest dirt.

If you still think of attending this imprudent gathering,

can I urge you to think of your reputation?

-I think it's a bit late for that.

-And the reputation of this village.

Oh, you'd rather it had a reputation for burning people in their homes?

Last night got out of hand and was...regrettable.

But what sort of message is this going to send?

That people are innocent until proved guilty?

It is you who are the innocent and know nothing of life's depravities.

You've never spoke a truer word, Reverend.

Now, what this young lady needs...

You think I need protection, don't you, Reverend?

It goes without saying.

Oh, well, then, in that case, I accept.

And if it's frightfully dull,

then I know I can rely on you for entertaining conversation.

-I think you...

-Yoo-hoo! Minister.

I've just persuaded the reverend to join us for dinner.

I don't suppose we can tempt you?

Mrs McCarthy is making her infamous wild mushroom soup.

-I think you mean famous.

-I know what I meant.

I am late for the African orphans.

So, if you can leave those at the back door

and I will collect them later.

I think Miss Windermere's got the wrong end of...

If we're to be dinner companions, you must call me Penelope.

If I may call you Peter?

The evil spreads, and one by one they suck you in.

-I didn't... I haven't....

-So shall I pick you up at seven?

I'm so glad you decided to come.

I'm not here on your behalf.

Oh, cheer up, it's a party. Of sorts.

It's home-made. A gift from our guests.

May I ask what's in it?

Oh, eye of newt, bat's wool, dog's tongue.

Chin-chin.

She's pulling your leg, Reverend.

Of course. It's very...pleasant.

Elderflower and rosehip, and we're used to preconceptions.

The 15th century witch hunter's manual,

Malleus Maleficarum, states that green eyes are the mark of a witch.

And those branded should be dragged from their homes and hanged.

I say, you'd be toast.

Preposterous.

Now, dinner is served.

So if you'd all like to find yourselves a seat.

Oh, thank you.

I'm afraid I have to leave. A parish emergency.

Sick call, an ailing person.

Don't wait for me. Mrs McCarthy will explain.

Hello?

DOOR OPENS

I hope you don't mind. I let myself in.

Like you, my door is always open.

Unless this is another attempt

to persuade me to your infernal gathering.

No.

I'm here about the murdered woman.

I...know nothing of the witch.

She was raised a Methodist.

Her school motto was Eruditio et Religio

from the hymn by Charles Wesley.

What if she was? I didn't know her.

You knew what she looked like.

Who else would murder a black-eyed witch but one of their own?

A figure of speech.

Witches' eyes are generally green. But Lilith's were dark.

Like pools of black ink.

Like your wife's.

I don't see any pictures of your daughter.

Destroyed...by the Nazis.

I don't think even the Luftwaffe could be that selective.

My daughter is dead.

What is it to you?

She didn't die in the Blitz.

She transgressed.

Crimes so heinous...

..that her name was struck from the family Bible.

I can't quite make it out.

Ruth.

Her name was Ruth.

And she was dead to us the minute she sold her soul to those devils.

'And then ten years later,

'God in his wisdom returned her.

'She was writing a book. Spreading the evil.'

I prayed.

My God, why do you torment me by bringing her to this place?

'And then I realised it was a gift.

'He returned my daughter to be cleansed and restored to the fold.'

She laughed in my face.

Now we're free to spread our message,

the old religion will again reign supreme.

You will burn in hell.

There is no hell. No day of judgment.

And we will not meet again.

Oh, my God, my God...

why hast thou forsaken me?

And then...

his purpose revealed itself.

'A man also and a woman that hath a familiar spirit,

'or is a wizard...

'..shall surely be put to death.

'They shall stone them with stones.

'Their blood shall be upon them.'

HE CRIES

You killed your daughter.

I'm so, so sorry.

I obeyed the word of God.

That is not God's will.

You're blind.

The evil enters like a needle

and spreads like an oak.

The evil is in your mind.

For your own sake, give up this crusade and seek God's forgiveness.

It's too late.

They're all condemned,

in this life and the next.

What have you done?

I sent angels to destroy them.

Now then. Who'd like to try some of my wild mushroom soup?

I poisoned evil at the roots.

Paganism gave birth to Christianity.

Bequeathed her festivals.

Easter is named after Eostre,

the great mother goddess of the Saxons.

I don't think this is appropriate conversation for the dinner table.

I'd say it's just taken a turn for the better.

Stop! Don't...

..eat the soup.

Something tells me this isn't good news.

Gillespie poisoned it with destroying angels.

What are you talking about?

Deadly mushrooms. Even half a one is lethal.

Then we must get to a hospital.

There's no antidote and the damage is done.

I'd say we have a week at most.

But this is not my time.

A week...and one man I'd spend it with.

Who would you chose?

I'll save him the bother.

You think I want his whingeing to be the last words I hear on this Earth?

And trust me, he will whinge.

Take him. You have my blessing.

Is there one person you would spend your last days with?

Marlon Brando.

You joke,

but I have reason to think that you share my feelings.

Well, your timing leaves a tad to be desired.

I understand. You're shy.

But time is our enemy.

I'll get a special licence and at least we can die as man and wife

having been...fulfilled.

What is all this talk of dying?

Gillespie spiked the mushrooms with fatal fungi.

Did he now?

Then it's a good thing I didn't use them.

What do you mean?

I threw them away.

Oh, thank the Lord!

We yield thee praise and thanksgiving...

And these would be the same mushrooms that you forced me

out into the wood to gather at daybreak?

I could hardly trust you not to poison us all.

Even if someone else hadn't got to them first.

So why make me?

Because I thought it might keep you out of trouble for a little while.

But if they had stood in my counsel,

and had caused my people to hear my words, then that should have

turned them from their evil way, and the evil of their doings!

Behold the mouthpiece of the Lord!

Neither God nor a jury will convict me!

He's got that right.

I'll give you 2-1 on the nuthouse.

Oh! Good morning!

Good morning!

I've come to redirect Eugene's mail.

Oh! We heard you'd given him the heave-ho.

I think what she meant to say was, "We're sorry about that."

Don't be. She's welcome to him,

his arthritis, his ingrowing toenails and his wandering eye.

Sometimes men are just more trouble than they're worth.

Seconded. Time I skedaddled.

You can't dodge him forever.

For heaven's sake, put the poor man out of his misery.

Very well, I'll do the dirty deed.

You've been avoiding me. I know why.

You do?

My declaration was sudden and alarmed you.

Let's just put it down to the heat of the moment.

And yet I didn't imagine the warmth between us.

And you still haven't given me your answer.

Well, the truth is, Reverend...

Peter.

The truth is, Peter...

..I cannot marry outside of my faith.

I'm Catholic, you're Protestant.

I'm Montague, you're Capulet and look how well that ended.

It's an obstacle, I admit, but surely...

As a man of God, you must understand

that, well...

..my faith is stronger than my feelings for you.

So it's adieu,

with the memory that I will always cherish of what might have been.