Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth
In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.
Army of Witches
It is said that during the dark days of the Great Persecution, certain friars secreted themselves near the sabbat-stead of a certain Alpine valley.
In this way they hoped to spy upon the witches in their gathering, and so ascertain once and for all the much-vexed question of what numbers the cult could claim.
Now it so happened—let it surprise no one—that these friars were in their turn espied by a certain warlock on his way to the sabbat, and this is what he said to them:
“Reverend brothers, you wish to know our number. Let me tell you this, and I tell you no lie: our army is such that if all the Alps, with their rocks and their glaciers together, were to be equally divided among us, none would have even so much as a pound's weight.”
Indeed, an army of witches. And let us all say: So mote it be.
R Haining, The Anatomy of Witchcraft (1972). Taplinger
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