From, Blood’s History: Suffering Fools
I have no patience for fools.
In 1844, a judge by the name of Abraham Rote traveled down to Cross from Boston. He had heard, in the ways of New England, of the Bloods and their exceptionally long lives. Rote traced his lineage proudly back to Cotton Mather and the hanging judge, Hawthorn, responsible for the deaths of so many witches.
Judge Rote felt it was his responsibility to oust the Bloods as witches, much as his ancestors had done. He came to my farm and spoke with me, explaining clearly his intent. Whether he hoped to frighten me into some sort of devilish confession, or whether he was simply a braggart, I’ll never know.
Judge Rote was one of the few people I personally introduced to the Gallows Tree.
I told him if he would like to see true power, he had best to accompany me. He did want to, and I led him deep into the property. Throughout our journey, he admonished me for my heathen ways, the obvious bargain I had struck up with the Devil, and my need to repent before he convinced a group of my neighbors to lynch me.
I could have let him go, but I did not. The man was a fool, and I do not suffer them lightly.
I left him hanging from the Gallows Tree until his clothes rotted away and freed his bones from their confines. His cloak remains in my hall closet. When the weather is especially foul, I put it on and travel to the Gallows Tree, where I reflect upon the painful and timely death of a fool.
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