Below you will find historical information on John Fian, and how I twisted and warped it to suit my needs. This information is by no means complete, whether through my own laziness or an entire lack of information on the subject, and I advise you to do your own research if you want to find out more.
John Fian was probably not John Fian.
John Fian is known by three names, which gave me some room to joke around with it. John Fian might have been a pseudonym. I suspect John Cunningham was his real name, but he’s also known as Johnne Sibbet. At least he changed it up a little with that last one, right? Adding an E and everything.
The act of adding Es everywhere complicates things, though. There are several variations of his names, all of them with extra letters crammed in, and that’s even before we go into Scottish spellings.
John Fian might not have lived in Prestonpans.
Various sources report various places of origin. When I started writing it seemed Prestonpans was the parish of choice, but Tranent and Saltpans have also been mentioned. Only thing I can say for sure is that it happened in the East Lothian area, and that it wasn’t far from Edinburgh.
Eventually, I just went with Prestonpans because I was getting used to the name.
John Fian was not a medical doctor.
School teachers at the time were apparently also referred to as doctor. By the time I came to realize this, I’d already written in some stuff I didn’t feel like writing out because I didn’t get in the way of the story anyhow. Who knows, maybe he knew how to put on a bandaid, which basically makes you a surgeon in the 16th century.
John Fian was not a great guy.
Of course, I’ve only got historical information to work with, and we all know that history is written by the victor. Which John was not. According to the “official” information, John was a bit of a dick. He was querulous, bad tempered, and had a tendency for lewdness. Kinda like a manager, really, which would be in line with the idea he was the leader of a coven.
I didn’t think writing about a cantankerous bastard would be a lot of fun. Not in this particular case, anyway. For this story it seemed better to have John be the one who sees things different, in a slightly more enlightened way.
John Fian was brutally tortured.
Any torture is brutal, obviously, but I downplayed it in the story. I don’t shy away from gore and violence if it’s in line with the tone of the story, but I felt there wasn’t a good reason to detail the sound of breaking bones and flowing blood.
That’s what this part is for.
His head was thrawed, which is just one of the words for wrapping someone’s head in rope and then twisting it with a bit of wood. If you’ve got a good piece of rope that can handle some stress, it’s possible to crush the skull of your victim like those chocolate eggs you get around Easter. You know, those hollow ones which are a little too big to fit in your mouth, so when you bite them they collapse in on themselves and then spill out everywhere but in your mouth. Well, that’s wrenching.
Also, his fingernails were pulled out and because humans are excellent at sadism, they pushed pins into the exposed flesh.
Then there were the boots. I’ve a hard time finding out exactly what they looked like, or how they worked, because googling ‘boots’ just shows me my own shoes. All I’ve been able to surmise is that they weren’t fun. A person’s legs would be enclosed in iron cylinders, and a wedge would be driven between the leg and the casing. This would crush the lower legs and the feet, somehow. The logistics of it seem strange to me, but I have complete faith in the ability of humans to inflict pain on others.
According to the information, John suffered through all of this without any expression of pain, which is pretty boss. In the end, he did want to confess but was unable to speak. Acting on the advice of other witches, they checked under his tongue and found two charmed pins. After removing these he confessed.
That last paragraph is full of wonder and intrigue, isn’t it? I imagine double agent witches lingering in the shadows of the torture chamber, only coming forth to whisper in the torturer’s ear what do do next. And apparently there were pins that acted as a mute button. I know a bunch of people who could do with those.
John Fian may have been dead already.
Not that he was a zombie, though people were probably convinced those were real as well. But it may have been that John’s execution was weeks before that day in Januari 1591, putting it somewhere in 1590.
One Laura Peterson (modern, sane person) found official documents stating the expenses for “the executione of Johne Feane, alias Cuninghame, witche” were £5 18s 2d, which is a pretty good deal if you want to kill someone. Moreover, it was dated 26th of December, 1590.
Nevertheless, I chose to go with the more prevalent date of January 27th, 1591 because it fitted better with the date of Agnes Sampson’s death, which is a whole can of worms on its own.
John Fian got a lot of pussy.
We needn’t feel bad for John, though. While he did confess to being a witch, after the whole pin-thing and such, he retracted his confession shortly before his execution. He stated that the torture had terrified him and he thought the stories would save his life. They didn’t, obviously, but despite that, he did go on to confess he’d committed adultery with thirty-two women.
I like to imagine that John’s actual last words were: “Burn me as you may, you charlatans, but we all know you’re just afraid I’ll fornicate with your wives as well. As you watch me burn, let me say to you: Too late, motherfuckers.”
Sources:
Wikipedia
Engole
Newes from Scotland, declaring the damnable life and death of Doctor Fian, a notable sorcerer, who was burned at Edenbrough in Ianuary last. 1591
Daemonology