In the small village of St. Osyth in 1582, seven-year-old Febey Hunt’s world was upended when whispers of witchcraft turned her peaceful home into a place of fear. Her stepmother, Ursula Kempe, a midwife and healer, was accused of casting malevolent spells. To Febey, Ursula’s remedies were acts of care—her poultices and potions often soothed fevers and aches. Yet, neighbors claimed she used those same skills to harm.
Febey saw her stepmother dragged to trial, where neighbors gave chilling testimonies. They spoke of Ursula’s supposed curses causing illness and death. The young girl struggled to reconcile these tales with the warm, hardworking woman she knew. To Febey, the accusations seemed like a nightmare conjured by adults' mistrust and superstition.
When Ursula was condemned, Febey felt the weight of the village’s judgment—not just on her stepmother, but on her own family. Rumors spread like wildfire, tainting everyone connected to Ursula. Febey watched as fear fueled division and heartache.
The witch trials forever changed the young girl, planting questions about justice and truth. For Febey, it was a harsh lesson in how fear and suspicion could overshadow kindness, leaving her with a story she would never forget.

Suspicion in St. Osyth

Febey watching Ursula Kemp, a woman with gray hair, crushing herbs in a wooden mortar. A cozy cottage filled with the scent of lavender and rosemary.

Febey watched as Ursula crushed herbs in her wooden mortar. The cottage smelled of lavender and rosemary, scents that always made Febey feel safe. 'Will this make Mrs. Pechy's joints stop hurting?' she asked, peering at the green paste. Ursula smiled warmly at her stepdaughter, her gray hair catching the afternoon light.

The Healer's Cottage

7 year old Febey looking worried in a village square, with tudor cottages, her friend the same age, Thomas stands beside her. A group of women with their heads covered huddled together in the background, casting glances.

Thomas tugged at Febey's sleeve in the village square. 'My mother says we shouldn't talk to your stepmother anymore,' he whispered. Febey's stomach tightened as she noticed the stares from the villagers. 'But why?' she asked, watching a group of women huddle together, casting glances toward her.

Whispers in the Village

Ales Hunt pacing in a small kitchen, her face drawn with worry. Febey sitting nearby, looking confused.

Ales Hunt paced the small kitchen, her face drawn with worry. 'Febey, you must be careful what you say about Ursula's remedies,' she warned. 'People are frightened of things they don't understand.' Febey nodded, though confusion clouded her young mind.

Mother's Worry

Joan Pechy, a frail woman, standing defiant in front of accusing Tudor men

Joan Pechy stood in their doorway, her wrinkled face twisted with anger. 'Your potions made my cow die!' she shouted at Ursula. Febey hid behind the door, watching Ursula's calm denial. 'I only gave you herbs for your pain, Joan,' Ursula replied softly.

The Accusation

Febey clinging to Ursula Kemp as men take her away at dawn. A crowd gathered, shouting 'She's a witch!'

Men came to their cottage as dawn broke. Febey clung to her mother as they took Ursula away. 'She's a witch!' someone shouted from the gathering crowd. Tears streamed down Febey's face as Ursula looked back one last time.

Taken Away

Thomas crying in a grave yard. Febey offering him some bread. Thomas wiping his tears, looking grateful.

Thomas found Febey hiding behind the baker's shop. 'I don't think your stepmother is a witch,' he whispered, offering her a piece of bread. 'My father says she helped birth me when no one else could.' Febey wiped her tears, grateful for his kindness.

A Friend's Courage

A packed Tudor hall with Ursula Kemp standing before a magistrate. All the people in Tudor dress

The village hall was packed with people as Ursula stood before the magistrate. Febey and Ales sat in the back, holding hands tightly. 'She made my child ill with her evil eye,' a woman testified. Febey wanted to shout that it wasn't true.

The Trial Begins

Joan Pechy, with gray hair wild, standing at the front of a village hall, claiming curses. Febey remembering Ursula's kindness.

Joan Pechy hobbled to the front, her gray hair wild around her face. 'She cursed me when I wouldn't pay for her remedies,' she claimed. 'My joints hurt worse after her treatment.' Febey remembered how Ursula had often given Joan medicine for free.

Joan's Testimony

Febey tugging at Ales Hunt's sleeve, insisting on speaking. Ales looking down with sad eyes.

Febey tugged at her mother's sleeve. 'I must tell them about the good things Ursula does,' she insisted. Ales looked down with sad eyes. 'They won't listen to a child, my love,' she whispered.

A Daughter's Truth

A Tudor magistrate's voice booming in an Elizabethan hall. Febey standing in the crowd. Thomas gently squeezing her hand., 

The magistrate's voice boomed through the hall. 'Ursula Kemp, you are found guilty of witchcraft.' Febey's world seemed to collapse around her. Thomas found her hand in the crowd and squeezed it gently.

The Verdict

Febey and Ales Hunt and Mr Hunt, leaving st osyth on a horse drawn cart with all their possessions loaded on it

Weeks passed in a blur of grief and confusion. Ales and Febey kept to themselves, tending their small garden. 'Why did they believe lies about Ursula?' Febey asked one evening. Ales stroked her daughter's light brown hair. 'Fear makes people forget their kindness,' she answered.

After the Storm

Tudor Febey as a 30 year old woman sat under and oak tree nursing a baby while children play nearby. she is telling them a story.

Spring came to St. Osyth, bringing fresh green leaves. Febey planted herbs as Ursula had taught her. 'I'll remember the truth about her,' she promised Thomas as they worked. 'And someday, others will know it too.'