It was a few weeks later when the peacefulness of the village of Gotham was punctuated by shouts of, "Burn the witch!"
In the village church, the local friar sighed, glancing up from his manuscript. "Not again," he muttered, standing up. "For the love of our Lord and Savior, can't this town go one week without an attempted witch burning?!"
The door to the church was thrown open. "Friar Tetch, we've found a witch. May we have a burning?" asked one of the citizens of the town.
"No, for the last time!" snapped Friar Tetch.
"But our last friar let us burn as many witches as we wanted to," protested the man.
"I don't care," retorted Friar Tetch. "Nobody is burning witches on my watch. It is not the Lord's way."
"Our last friar said it was the Lord's way," retorted the man.
"Yes, there's more than one school of thought as to what the Lord's way is," retorted Friar Tetch. "Mine just happens to be correct. Now let me see this so-called witch, who I assure you is just a normal woman."
"It's a man," said the man.
"Oh. Well, I assure you, he's just a normal man," said Friar Tetch.
"He is not! He turned me into a newt!" exclaimed the man.
"A newt?" repeated Friar Tetch, looking at him skeptically.
The man shrugged. "I got better," he replied.
Friar Tetch shook his head, and then followed the man out of the church and into the village square, where an impromptu stake had been set up. A man was tied to it, while the villagers piled wood and straw and anything else flammable along the bottom.
"Everyone, please, this isn't necessary!" exclaimed Friar Tetch. "God does not ask you to burn witches – He only asks that you live a peaceful, good life in His service."
"Burning witches is His service," retorted another villager, and the others murmured their agreement.
"I'm not a witch, for the last time!" snapped the man tied to the stake.
"If you're not a witch, how come when my little girl was sick, and you gave her some herbs, she got better?" demanded another man.
"Because it was medicine!" snapped the man tied to the stake. "It's supposed to make her better – that's how it works! And I must say, if this is the thanks I get, I won't be helping to save anyone else's children in future!"
"There, you see? This man is a healer, not a witch," said Friar Tetch. "So release him at once."
"If he's not a witch, how come he knows how to heal people?" demanded a man. "How come he knows things other people don't know?"
"Because I, unlike most of you, can read," snapped the man tied to the stake. "And I also observe and experiment to find answers to the questions that I have, rather than just accepting everything as inexplicable. It's all part of what I call the scientific process."
"Sounds like witchcraft to me," said a man, and the others murmured their agreement again. "We should probably burn him just to be safe."
Cheers rose up at this. "No, for the last time!" shouted Friar Tetch over the noise. "I do not condone witch burning in this parish! And Friar Nygma only did until he was accused of being a witch himself for being smarter than everyone else, and then he made quite a hasty retreat, didn't he? Taking most of the precious relics of Gotham with him – I honestly suspect he only joined the church in order to have the power to tell people what to do, because he'll be burning in hell for his sins. Thievery is against God's sacred commandments."
"So is witchcraft," spoke up a man, and the enthusiastic murmuring started again.
"There is nothing in the commandments about witchcraft!" snapped Friar Tetch. "Doesn't anyone listen to my sermons?! The commandments say no killing, thieving, coveting, adultery, idolatry, blasphemy, but no mention of witchcraft at all. Therefore it is not my priority, and therefore, as head of the church in this town, I demand that you release this man."
"Or we could set him on fire, and if he manages to survive, that would prove he's a witch," said one.
"And if he didn't?" demanded Friar Tetch.
The man shrugged. "He goes to heaven, I suppose."
"That's a self-defeating test," retorted Friar Tetch.
"Yes, it's not at all in keeping with the scientific process," agreed the man tied to the stake.
"See, Friar Tetch, he's speaking in tongues again!" exclaimed one.
"Using words you are unfamiliar with is not speaking in tongues," snapped Friar Tetch. "Good Lord, this town is a madhouse," he sighed. "I had heard stories about the place, of course, but I couldn't imagine any of them were true. They seemed as likely as a fantasy world with talking rabbits and smiling cats…"
"Please, Friar Tetch, we haven't had a good witchburning in months!" whined one. "How else are we supposed to encourage and reinforce loyalty and obedience to God?"
"Perhaps by going to church, listening to my sermons, and minding your own business!" snapped Friar Tetch. "If nobody's going to untie him, I'll just do it myself. Now off you go, everyone – no burnings today, or ever."
The crowd dispersed, grumbling to themselves. "I'm so dreadfully sorry about that," sighed Friar Tetch as he untied the man. "They're very enthusiastic about witch burnings."
"I gathered that," said the man, dryly. "And I will, of course, be taking my skills as a healer elsewhere after this."
"That's a shame," said Friar Tetch. "There are rumors of the black death from abroad, and one can't be too careful. I mean, of course I advocate the healing power of prayer, but I've never seen anything wrong with giving God a little hand if we have the knowledge."
"You seem like a strangely enlightened friar," said the man.
"I do mostly just read all day, since few people here are actually interested in my services," said Friar Tetch, shrugging. "My name's Tetch, by the way, Friar Jervis Tetch."
"Jonathan Crane," said the man, nodding at him. "I'd like to thank you for rescuing me."
"Oh please, it was nothing," said Friar Tetch. "Witch burning is such a barbaric practice. It's nearly the 13th-century, after all – we should be more civilized."
"You would think so, in the modern age," agreed Crane. "But I doubt even civilized places can avoid their fair share of angry mobs."
"Too true," sighed Friar Tetch. "Can I offer you a cup of tea back at the church?"
"What's tea?" asked Crane, puzzled.
"It's a luxury drink," said Friar Tetch. "But the church manages to get ahold of many luxuries thanks to these crusades, and tea is one of them. Follow me – you'll love it."
"Aw, man, did we miss the witch burning?" asked a voice behind them. "This is all your fault, Cat Lady! I wanted to see some high quality entertainment, like the horrible murder of innocents, and you make us miss it because you're too busy fixing your hair, just like a wench!"
"I was feeding my cats!" snapped a female voice. "And I told you never to call me wench!"
Friar Tetch and Crane turned to see a clown, a woman, and a half-faced man standing behind them. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but there was no witch burning, and there will be no witch burning on my watch!" snapped Friar Tetch.
"You must be the new friar," said the clown, making a face. "Man, I want Nygma back, and I never thought I'd say that. But at least he knew good quality entertainment when he saw it."
"Well, Friar Nygma is gone. I'm Friar Tetch, and I'm in charge of the parish of Gotham now, and I say no more witch burnings."
"Gee, nothing will attract people to the church like taking away their fun," sighed the clown, sarcastically. "That's what you religious types never get. If you want people to follow you, you gotta give 'em the old razzle dazzle, not do your whole fire and brimstone threats, shave your head, and never have sex. That's not at all an appealing lifestyle."
"Maybe not for some," retorted Friar Tetch. "But some of us appreciate a life of quiet contemplation."
"I guess you do get a lotta quiet if you refrain from relationships with women. Buncha nags," agreed the clown. "No offense," he added, nodding at the woman. "Speaking of nags, what happened to the witch?"
"I'm right here," retorted Crane.
"Oh. You're the witch?" asked the clown, skeptically. "Aren't witches usually girls?"
"They don't discriminate in Gotham," sighed Friar Tetch. "Anyone who seems remotely out of place or different, they'll try and burn."
The clown sighed. "Well, if the show's been canceled, we should probably get back to Arkham Forest before someone sees Harvey's face and tries to burn him."
"They could just as easily try to burn you, you know!" snapped the two-faced man.
"Arkham Forest?" repeated Friar Tetch. "You're not that band of outlaws who's taken up residency there, are you? That's all this town's been talking about since I arrived."
"Yep, that's us!" chuckled the clown. "Robbin' Joker and his Merry Men!"
"They don't look very merry," commented Crane.
"And there's only one man, not including yourself," pointed out Friar Tetch.
"Technicalities," said Robbin' Joker, waving his hand.
"Why do you call yourself Robin Joker?" asked Crane.
"It's Robbin' Joker, and it's because I'm a thief," retorted Robbin' Joker. "It's a joke. Get it?"
"No," retorted Crane. "What do birds have to do with thievery?"
"No, Robbin', it's a pun, genius!" snapped Robbin' Joker.
"I don't approve of thievery," said Friar Tetch. "Unless you're doing something like robbing from the rich to give to the poor. Is that what you're doing?"
"Well…I'm poor, so yeah, kinda," agreed Robbin' Joker. "But I don't discriminate. I'll rob from anyone, rich or poor. It's all about the freedom for me. And the fun, of course."
"I don't understand how robbing people can be fun," said Crane. "But the freedom part I suppose I do. You probably don't get attacked by people who attempt to burn you for being a witch."
"Not so far," agreed Robbin' Joker. "Because, y'know, I'm not a girl, and that's what most witches are."
"Shut up!" snapped Crane. "Anyway, I'm not a witch. I'm a healer. My name is Jonathan Crane."
"Hey, can I call you Little Johnny?" asked Robbin' Joker, excitedly. "That would be great! And I'm pretty sure also fairly accurate," he laughed.
"I don't know what that's supposed to mean, and I honestly don't want to," retorted Crane. "But no, you can't, because my name is Jonathan Crane, so that's what I will be called. At least, it will be if you ever want to be healed by me at any point."
"A healer, eh?" repeated Robbin' Joker thoughtfully. "Now that might be a useful person to have in our merry band, if you'd like to join us."
"And why would I want to do that?" asked Crane.
"Well, you'd get paid, and if someone tried to burn you as a witch again, we'd probably have to stop 'em," said Robbin' Joker, shrugging. "Group loyalty and all that."
"We also have food," said Two-Face. "Even with all of Selina's cats, there's still plenty of wild game left in the forest."
"Wild game, you say?" said Friar Tetch, his eyes lighting up. "Of course while I don't condone stealing, I haven't tasted wild game in ages."
"Well, you're welcome to stop by the camp occasionally, padre," said Robbin' Joker. "The more the merrier in Robbin' Joker's merry band of merry men, that's my motto. And try saying it five times fast!" he chuckled.
Crane and Friar Tetch shared a look. "Up to you, but we're heading home to cook the venison," said Two-Face, heading back into the forest.
The word venison was too much for a largely starving population to resist, and they both followed Two-Face and Catwoman into the woods. "So we got the witch and the wench," chuckled Robbin' Joker, following them. "And the faceless guy and the friar. Yes sir, I think Robbin' Joker's band of Merry Men is coming along very nicely!"