In the summer of 1582, the narrow lanes of St. Osseth were thick with whispers.

Inside a cold, dark cell in nearby Colchester, Ursulkept sat alone, a poor widowed healer,

now labelled a witch.

Her neighbours had claimed she spoke to spirits,

that animals died at her word, that illness followed her footsteps.

Even her own son had been questioned and testified against her.

Desperate, frightened, and cut off from the world,

she confessed under pressure.

Soon, the bells that signalled market days would toll for a hanging.

In St. Osseth, fear had found a name, and, as it so often is, it was a woman's.

The darkest chapter in the history of this quiet Essex village stands as a solemn reminder of just how easily human beings can turn neighbours into enemies and suspicion into a deadly weapon.

But who were the people at the heart of this tale?

Who held the power and who paid the people at the heart of this tale? Who held the power?

And who paid the price? Music Hello and welcome to After Dark, I'm Maddie.

And I'm Anthony.

Now, today we're in late 16th century England, a place where fear of witches hung heavy in the air,

fueled by religion, uncertainty, and a desperate need to explain misfortune.

In the village of St. Osseth in Essex, that fear turned inward.

Transforming neighbour against neighbour, a suspicion took hold.

What followed was not just a witch hunt, but a tragic portrait of how panic can devour a community from within.

So, to take us through this dark chapter of English history is Professor Marion Gibson from the University of Exeter, my own alma mater, of course, right, did the old PhD.

She is the author of witchcraft,

...