He was startled awake by the clanking of metal. The bailiff's heavy keys, the chain large enough not to fit through the bars, were placed into the lock one by one, drawing many curses from said bailiff until he finally opened the gate.

"Come. The time has come for you to be placed on trial and an end put to your evil."

He stood up, stretching his back and arms as he opened his mouth to yawn. He knew it could not have been later than 5 hours into the morning, as it was still very dark when he looked out of the small window of his cell. "It is a full moon today," he remarked. "How darkly appropriate."

"I will not hear any more of your babble," the bailiff said, beckoning a guard with a heavy sword. "Come so that we may kill you."

"You're in an awful hurry," he said. "Whatever happened to a prisoner's last meal? Per'aps I am to be led away on a chain as well?"

A third guard appeared with a whip, cracking it against his back. "Move," said the second guard, "else I will cut you to pieces where you stand!"

Still cringing from the blow of the whip, he consented, and was led away by the bailiff and the second guard (under full watch, as was natural under the circumstances). He figured he must have walked for a good five minutes, and of that time took advantage to speak to the bailiff in the manner of a friend. However, the bailiff would not hear of it. He did not show kindness to those about to be executed.

Finally, he was brought before the judge (he noted that the judge appeared to have been generously tipped by the baker tried earlier that week), whose name was loudly proclaimed by the bailiff to be "Lord Manfred of Greenwich! All stand!"

Everyone stood up, but strangely when he joined them the peasants around him cowered in fear. Well, perhaps not strangely, considering that...

"Sir John Kelzer, you are to be tried as a werewolf. If you are found to be such a creature, you shall be beheaded, that you might not curse the peaceful residents of this town again. How do you plead?"

"Naturally," he replied, being sure to add "sir," "I plead not guilty."

The judge sputtered. "You plead not guilty despite the massive evidence mounted against you?"

"With all due respect, sir," he said, bowing in respect, "None of the evidence has yet been brought to my attention. You have not yet even allowed us to sit down."

"Bah," the judge said, sitting down. "I was hoping for a quick and reasonable trial. You may all be seated."

Everyone in the court sat down. Even though he sat first, the guard who continued to restrain him yanked on his arm as if he had been slow.

The judge looked at his court, at the number of people that had been drawn to the trial. "I am a respectable judge," Manfred said to begin. "See here the crowd that is drawn to my trials: both commoners and noblemen and noblewomen. You can see that I am impartial, and will not show favoritism to you for your knighthood."

"Fascinating," said he, "that a respectable judge would flatter himself so in public."

The guard smacked him on the back of his head, a force powerful enough to knock him forward, but due to the strength of his neck he did not falter.

He rubbed the back of his head to relieve the pain. "I apologize," he amended. "I was quite out of line."

"It is best to be respectful," the judge said quietly. "Perhaps God will give you mercy in hell."

"Harsh words to be spoken to a man yet to be condemned," he said. "Speaking of which, you said evidence had been brought against me?"

"Quite so," the judge said. "The church will act on the behalf of this court. Where is the bishop Francis?"

"I am here, your honor," a man said, dressed in ceremonial clothing. "I will present the evidence against the werewolf and assure you that there is no doubt that is what he is."

"You said you have witnesses to the man's lycanthropy. Perhaps you would be so good as to call the first one."

"My liege, my first witness is Wendy Cathic, the rugmaker."

A young woman was brought to the witness stand, such as it was.

"Do you know the accused?" the bishop asked.

"Yes I do," Wendy answered, "He bought rugs from me ever since five years ago."

"Can you tell me," asked the bishop, "what you saw on the fifth of November, under the light of the full moon?"

"Your honor, if I might object," he interrupted. "The full moon comment might be an attempt by the accuser..."

The judge banged his gavel on the table. "God will decide when His clergy is out of line!"

He decided it would be best if he didn't reply.

On the bishop's encouragement, Wendy continued, saying "I saw a man through his window, putting on a wolfskin belt."

"A wolfskin belt," proclaimed the bishop, "Is one of the ways for man to become wolf, as proclaimed by God in the Acts of the Apostles, chapter 29!"

"It doesn't say that in Acts," he objected.

"Are you accusing me of fabricating the evidence against you," the bishop asked, stunned.

"There aren't even 29 chapters in the book of Acts. There are only 28. Have you even read it?"

The bishop sputtered indignantly. "Your honor," said the bishop, "The wolf clearly has stolen Bibles from the church and read them unlawfully! I demand he be punished for this crime!"

"Actually," he said, "I was given a Bible by my mother."

"Silence, scum," the guard cried. "You will speak not of the holy books while bearing an unholy curse!"

"He is being tried as an ungodly beast," the judge said to the bishop. "Surely there is no punishment worse than death that man can give. Continue examining the witness and we may discuss this later if you wish."

The bishop regained his composure and returned to Ms. Cathic. "Do you remember the man you saw that night?"

"Quite plainly," Wendy said. "If I saw him again I would recognize him."

"Do you see him in this courtroom today," the bishop asked, pointing to him.

Wendy looked at him. "No, he hadn't such a beard," she said, noting his facial hair, which had grown long during his month's imprisonment.

"Guard," ordered the judge, "Cut his beard off so that she might recognize his face."

Standing him up, the guard roughly took out a sword and sliced away his beard, cutting his flesh in several places.

Finally all that was left was thick stubble, but it was thin enough to allow one to see his face.

"That was him," Wendy said. "He's the man who was putting on the wolfskin belt."

"What have you to say to that," the bishop asked smugly, "knowing that you could have become a werewolf should you put the belt on?"

"That was a belt I was making for my friend," said he, "that I was fitting on myself because we are similarly dimensioned."

"And did your friend receive this belt?"

"No, because I was arrest..."

The bishop quickly cut him off. "Your honor, I present to you that the belt belonged to the accused, and that using it he became a wolf during the light of the moon. I excuse the witness."

Wendy left the witness stand, but instead of returning to her seat she left the courtroom altogether, receiving as she left what appeared to be two pounds from the Bailiff.

"Am I not even being allowed to defend myself by cross-examining her," he asked.

"Werewolves are not mere criminals," the judge said, "You will be tried in the manner of what you are."

"That is fair enough."

"Father, will you please continue with your testimony?"

"Your honor, I have yet only two mere shreds of evidence that will be needed to convict this man as a wolf. Guard, will you please take the cursed one here, where all may see him, and strip him of his shirt?"

"Excuse me," he asked, but was quickly escorted by the guard to the front of the courtroom, where the guard brutally removed his clothing above the waist, tearing the old fabric and destroying it in the process.

"Observe," the bishop said, "the hair on his back; on his chest; on his arms. Surely no one but an animal could have this much hair. As God proclaim..."

"God," he queried, "or those who claim to represent Him?"

"Silence," shouted the guard, again smacking him upside the head, this time so that he for a moment felt dizzy.

"The last of my evidence," the bishop said, "comes in the form of an animal seen by the villagers: a dog with no tail. Surely werewolves can not be distinguished from normal dogs except for their lack of a tail, is this not correct?"

"Do you have a witness," the judge asked.

"Who in this court today," the bishop asked, "has seen this animal? Say aye!"

All of the peasants said "aye," but the nobles held their tongues.

"I rest my case," the bishop said, bowing to the judge in respect. "May God give you wisdom, and reward for your wisdom."

The bishop sat, while he was left to stand, shirtless and humiliated in the courtroom: he had never been given permission to sit.

"What have you to say to this overwhelming evidence," the judge asked. "Surely you can not be sick enough to not see what you have been changed into through the work of black magic?"

"I believe," said he, "that it is very interesting you would come to this conclusion, that I have become, as you say, a 'were-wolf,' especially based upon evidence given by only one man. It is interesting to watch the entire village turn against me, based on testimony by only one man, and a witness that I dare guess was paid by the accusers to bend her testimony against me."

"Please," said the judge, "Do not make this harder for you. Will you not admit that you are a monster now, a man who under the moonlight becomes a wolf?"

"I was under the moonlight in my cell when I was taken here," he said. "If I was going to change wouldn't I have changed then? I was knighted by her majesty the queen ten years ago, and most of the people of the village know me. Surely they would know that my personality is not akin to a wolf at all, and never has been. Don't you value the testimony of my friends more than the testimony of this one man, who claims to work under the authority of God but clearly is a liar?"

"You have said enough," cried the judge, slamming his gavel. "You will be beheaded today at noon, so that we may be rid of your curse forever!"

He stood, stunned. Then he bowed respectfully to the judge. "Clearly your stupidity is immune to reason. I will respect your decision."

---

At exactly noon, without even the dignity of a breakfast, he was led to the large stage in the city square. The chopping block, freshly made and unused, awaited his neck.

The executioner was masked so as not to be seen by the citizens and despised. He recognized still the man wearing in the mask: it was one of his friends, but his eyes still did not show any remorse.

"It says a lot about man," he said, addressing the executioner, "that they would turn on a man based on admittedly circumstantial evidence."

His neck was on the block for several minutes, while the bishop, the very same one who had convicted him, read him his last rites. He noted that the bishop made quite a show for the crowd.

Just before the axe fell, he spoke, saying "Watch, for in five hundred years nothing will have changed. God have mercy on us in those trying times."