Chapter Eleven
The women began to sing a song about the circle being open but unbroken. Leah sensed this without seeing it, just as she knew her father had stepped into the room now that the ritual had ended. No one would complain about his masculine energy as if it were a contaminant. Her mother still grasped one hand, while Nora wove her fingers through hers. Nana left her position at her back to herd her fellow witches into the kitchen.
Savory smells wafted from the kitchen as the women opened up or heated dishes they’d brought. Nana rounded up close to every plate they owned amid the clatter of dishes and silverware. Their family was not in the habit of serving more than six, which may have been all the plates they had.
Mother’s grip tightened and loosened as she stood. “I should go help.”
Nora kept a silent vigil with her in companionable silence. In some ways, Leah was rather like Helen Keller. Adrift in a world none of them knew or could understand. Her eyelids stayed closed as she allowed her mind to examine the revelations she’d received.
The older her seemed to have a deeper knowledge of the myriad things that motivated the human heart. The older man’s motivation puzzled her. Did he truly think women were the source of evil? Sure, there were chauvinistic males now who thought men were superior to women, but that was the extent of it. They might keep mental lists of jobs not suitable for a female. Sometimes they might express their opinions loudly. Overall, though, they posed no danger to her or the way of life of most American women.
Not so much with the not-so-good abbot. He needed to punish women as much as he needed to enslave the young priests. His potion should do the trick. She’d heard about soldiers in various wars becoming morphine addicts. The abbot might just be doing what those in power had done before him and after. Lionel used to be such a sweet, idealistic individual. Leah realized she felt compassion for the boy he used to be. The crazed, angry priest Lionel had evolved into was firm on her destruction. He did not merit her sympathy.
Someone in the kitchen called Nora’s name, causing her to let go of Leah’s hand. Her sister kissed her hair in passing and whispered, “Be safe, little sister.”
That’s all it took. With Nora leaving and letting go of her hand, the tugging increased, reminiscent of some horror movie she’d watched where tiny people lived under the floorboards. They were not kind, helpful brownies. No, these people were cruel and devious. It felt like they were pulling on her from all sides. She struggled to release the pull of the past. Maybe seeing Nana’s plants scattered around the room would help break her trance.
Her eyelids popped open at about the same time that she sank deeper into the chair, dropping into another dimension. Nora’s voice echoed as she fell: “Leah’s fading. Stop her.”
She fell, aware she was passing through time, seeing flashes of color and light. That had never happened before. What was different? Instead of hitting the ground in a clumsy heap, she floated to the ground rather like Mary Poppins, but with no umbrella.
She gently touched the ground with her bare feet settling on the cold-packed dirt. Tall trees threw out intimidating shadows with the setting sun. Once she made full contact with the ground, she shook out her robe. Her hands bunched the wide skirt of the voluminous blue and green robe. She still had it on. That was odd.
From behind the trees appeared a few heads. In the fading light, she thought she made out the features of Henry and Sabina. Henry eased around the tree, checking out her dress in detail. “Your garment is passing strange for these parts.”
Sabina, possibly emboldened by Henry’s behavior, stepped out from the tree with a swagger, as if she weren’t afraid. “You fell out of the heavens like an angel, a fallen angel.” Sliding closer, she reached out to touch the richly decorated fabric.
The instant Sabina’s fingers touched the cloth, she yelped. “The fabric burned me. It is enchanted. You are a witch.”
Ideally, she knew the robe was supposed to help her. Although all it seemed to be doing now was confirming her witch status. Still, she wondered if that was the plan. Instead of cowering and awaiting death, she was to stand strong. Now would be a good time to start as any. “I am a witch. The gown is enchanted.”
Old Margaret stepped out from behind a tree, pointing a gnarled finger at her. “You bear the blame for my house gone.”
“Not really.” Leah held her hands out in front of her as if she could stop the words and the incipient guilt they carried. “Ignorance and fear are the culprits, not me. “
Turning in Henry’s direction, she asked, “Didn’t you tell me your property was seized for the church after the mayor named you a witch?”
“This is true,” he agreed, and then placed a small twig between his teeth to chew. His brow furrowed in thought. Pulling the stick out of his mouth, he gestured with it. “The mayor had need to put me out of the way. Once I confronted him with the knowledge I knew he be cheating the townsfolk by only giving them back a percentage of the grain they brought in to be milled. Enough angry villagers would have turned on him as opposed to me, Old Margaret, or Sabina.”
Leah listened, familiar with Henry’s tale, but she wanted the others to hear it again. Strange how someone else they knew repeating the same premise that she wasn’t to blame sounded more believable from lips other than hers. “In my time, they’d refer to Margaret and Sabina as collateral damage. They didn’t do anything wrong, but just to have Henry, a man, accused as a witch would appear suspicious, especially if it were known he’d disagreed with the mayor.”
Taking a cautious step forward, Margaret slowly circled Leah. Fearing the woman wasn’t in her right mind after the destruction of her home and the loss of her beloved cat, Leah turned with her, never allowing the woman behind her back. The woman might have been packing a sharp knife.
Sabina placed both hands on her hips and gave Henry a knowing look. “People knew there was bad blood between Henry and the mayor. The village wanted Henry to be the mayor because he was a fair man, but the title is an appointed one. Rumors were that money changed hands to ensure the title fell as it did.”
“Not rumors, ’tis the truth,” Henry said, the anger in his face gathering like storm clouds. “All the more reason to be rid of me.” Kicking at a rock in the path with his booted foot, he swore something indistinct, most likely directed at the mayor.
In some ways, Henry was the natural leader of the villagers. It paid to get rid of your strongest competition first. How convenient the church just happened to have these witch trials to help remove the troublesome element. “Why do you think there are all these accusations flying about cattle dying, crops failing, and witches? It is obvious the mayor uses it to get rid of people he doesn’t like, but why does it work?”
Old Margaret answered first. “Times have always been hard. The earth makes us work hard to bring forth food. Calves, lambs, and even children die often before birth. Our sin causes bad things to happen, but no one wants to be guilty of causing their own child to die, so it is easier to blame someone else. It is easier to let someone else take the punishment, forgetting their sin caused the problem.”
The urge to correct the old woman about the true nature of sin died a quick death. These people only knew what the priests had told them. Their minds were not exactly receptive vessels waiting for her to pour knowledge into them. “Still, like you said, Margaret, people have had problems all through the centuries. Why start blaming witches? What does it mean to be a witch?”
Sabina cocked her head curiously. “You call yourself a witch. Mayhap you should tell us?”
“True,” Leah agreed, realizing it was the first time she’d ever called herself a witch in public. She’d gone to the regional meetings where people assumed she must be a witch because of her mother and grandmother, but still that hadn’t always rung true. It had to be a personal experience. You weren’t a witch due to your relatives. “My kind of witch is not what you think. I am bound to work for the good of all and the harm of none. I honor both people and nature. Many Wiccans in my time choose not to eat meat, to honor their fellow creatures.”
Henry shook his head as if astounded. “That is more than passing strange.” Interlacing his fingers, he turned out his palms and cracked his knuckles. “I’ve given much thought to all that you have said. I’ve thought on it before. Those of us who cannot read are at a disadvantage. The clergy say the Bible tells us to do this witch killing, but we cannot read to see if it is so. Scripture translation suits whoever is in power. Heard tell in France and Italy, the clerics meet to vote on which Scriptures they will believe. King James, a powerful man afraid of witches, put out the edict for the last rewriting.”
“The man is trying to deny his destiny.” Margaret cackled. “Rumor was a fortune-teller told him a witch would cause his death. Seems fitting that he rid himself of all.”
Sabina strutted in a circle until she gained everyone’s attention. “A visiting tinker I happened to strike up an acquaintanceship with had been up to London. He told me all about the king.”
Margaret gazed at Henry and Leah. “That explains the new pots you acquired.”
Sticking her nose in the air and ignoring the old woman’s remarks, Sabina continued. “King James’ favorites are all men, three especial men.”
Henry and Margaret gasped in response, but Leah couldn’t figure out what was special about having friends. Didn’t kings have friends? Then it hit her. Special friends. But that wasn’t okay in these times. “Aren’t there laws against having special friends if you are a man, and those friends are men?”
“Yes,” Sabina answered, smacking her fist into her hand. “Kings don’t follow laws like we do. Who will punish them?”
She had a point. “Do you think this whole witch hunt is a smoke screen to keep people from finding out about his boyfriends?”
Henry stroked his chin. “I hope not. I imagine that, besides his wife, most folks do not care what James does. It has been the way of kings to blame others. There is also word of Jews, lepers, and gypsies bringing plagues and pestilence. Then again, most people do what benefits them the most. Right now, chasing us out of town benefits them. I do not believe they even want us to go to trial. It is best that we vanish. If we went to trial, I would say all I know, causing questions to grow in the minds of fellow villagers.”
Leah understood what Henry was proposing. “You're saying we should just pick up and go elsewhere? What about your property?”
“Yes, it is the best solution. I believe my townspeople do not want to put me to the test and have me die in the testing. When I saw which way the wind blows, my cousin and I traveled to the next village to have a deed drawn up that transfers my land to my cousin. My land stays in my family, instead of going to the church. If the mayor moves against my cousin, then he’ll do it with scrutiny, because all will remember how he was with me. I do not think the move too difficult.” Henry shrugged his shoulders as if it were nothing.
The man had to be one of the most easygoing she’d ever run across. He reminded her of her father in some ways. Margaret didn’t share his attitude. She stomped her feet angrily, ignoring the pain that must have been resonating through her bare feet. “Easy for you, Henry. Your cousin has pledged to take care of you. In one fell swoop, he has all he ever wanted. I’ve nothing. Nothing, do you hear me? What little I had burned to the ground.” Her eyes cut to Leah, letting her know she still blamed her.
Taking two large steps to reach Margaret’s side, he wrapped his arms around the angry woman. “I will take care of you. I feel beholden since my initial charge may have compounded the accusations leveled against you and Sabina.”
Sabina folded her arms and tapped her toe, as if waiting for Henry to say something. She cleared her throat when that didn’t work. Henry let go of Margaret and threw up his hands.
“I suppose you want me to offer to care for you, too.” Henry said the words as if put upon. Sabina smiled, looking up through her lashes, in an expression that may have garnered her more than new pots. “I am not sure what good it would do either of us. A new town will be full of new prospects for you. They won’t approach you if they think you’re under my care. On the other hand, I doubt I want to go to the trouble to look after you to have you take off when someone more to your taste arrives.”
Sabina bit her lips, and then concurred. “You’re right. You can be my brother wherever we stop.”
Leah watched all this interaction and wondered what it meant for her. She wasn’t here to be part of a traveling band of misfit would-be witches. Still, until the universe made her path a little clearer, she’d follow along. The sunlight streaming through the leaves reminded her it was daytime. The breeze chilled her slightly, making her wonder what season it was. Both Margaret and Sabina sported shawls, although Sabina wore hers wrapped around her hips, cinching her skirt closer, no doubt to emphasize her curves. Margaret huddled under hers, shivering as if she’d never be warm again.
Henry, on the other hand, wore a loose tunic-like shirt and a rough vest over it. He didn’t act cold. Leah was sure men somehow stayed warmer in archaic times, unless it was uncool for a guy to act cold. In the mornings when her father drove her to school, there were plenty of jacketless boys at the bus stop, who acted as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Some of them did look a little on the frozen side.
If things went well, somehow she’d bump into Grandpa, recognize him despite the twenty-year gap since his last picture, grab him, and return home. It sounded like a good plan to her, with only a few possibilities of going very wrong. She wouldn’t find Grandpa. There was also the chance he liked it just fine here, which could be the real reason he’d never come back. Nope, she did not want to tell Nana that. Some people might think her grandmother was already in the angry mode, but currently she just lingered in the strong-willed and opinionated department. Leah never wanted to see her move up to angry.
There was her mission, as well, or the mission her family thought she was on. Was it a heroic mission like Joan of Arc’s? She doubted it. Was it a personal mission, more like solving something in her past so she could return to her present? If so, what did she have to do? Lionel figured into it somehow, but that was the limit to her insight. That, and someone she trusted would betray her. Her eyes drifted to the three figures in front of her.
Sabina danced beside Henry, taking every opportunity to touch his arm and point out something. Leah’s lips twisted as she thought Henry mentioned a wife and family. That made no matter to Sabina. She was an opportunist. Nana would call her a gold digger. It must be natural for her to latch on to whatever man was around. The woman would definitely throw her under the bus, or in this case the wagon, if it would benefit her somehow.
Then there was Margaret. The woman leaned heavily on the walking stick Henry had cut for her. She had no qualms of letting Leah know she blamed her for everything, from the destruction of her house and livelihood to the disappearance of her feline. Margaret might not mean to harm her, but her loud protests would be enough to convict her.
Henry’s back was straight, his head held high, as he moved easily through the woods. Compared to the other villagers, the man obviously ate well and was in excellent health. His robust appearance varied greatly from the villagers with their frail frames, sunken cheeks, and lackluster expressions. Why was Henry in such good health?
July was the starving month. She remembered that from history class. People butchered their livestock in the winter. All through the winter months, they ate well on the harvest and meat. Spring was the time of sowing. By July, often their supplies ran out and nothing was ready to harvest. People often resorted to eating grass and anything else vaguely edible.
It was summer here. The canopy of trees was full and thick, not like the new growth of spring. Even though it seemed chilly, she reminded herself that seventy degrees was sometimes as high as it got for a British summer in the twentieth century. Added to that, they were in a shadowy woods and five hundred years in the past. It made sense it could be summer. With that in mind, Leah’s eyes rested on Henry. Of course, he’d be in good spirits if anticipating a generous reward for walking in trusting witches.
As preposterous as the thought seemed, she knew she was right. Her spirit guide had emphasized it would be someone she trusted. It was hard to betray someone who didn’t trust you, simply because they expected such actions. Should she find out Henry’s motives? Her pace slowed more as she contemplated her actions. If she got close enough to Henry, she might be able to scan his thoughts. So far, that little talent had turned out to be inconsistent, not working when she needed it and only working with people whose thoughts she pretty much knew already.
If she could get close enough, she’d read Henry’s thoughts to decide what his true intentions were. The sun broke through the canopy, highlighting the trio in front of her. She stopped, looking at the three of them as they came to a standstill. The sunlight bounced off something shiny. Flashes of silver peeked through the greenery. Leah didn’t need to be told it was a trap.
Slipping silently off the path, she searched for a climbable tree. Jumping for the bottom limb, she hurried as women’s screams echoed through the forest. She quickly pulled herself up into the tree. Climbing higher, she tried to ignore the shouts. The robe made it surprisingly easy to scamper up the tree, clinging close to her body instead of catching on limbs. The blue-green coloring disguised her among the leaves as well.
Crouching on a limb, she tried to slow her breathing. They might be able to find her just by listening for her panicky breathing. She reminded herself to inhale slowly through her nose. Her legs were starting to hurt from her crouched position. Definitely not a bird in another life. Her perch felt unsure, as if any type of movement might end with her falling to the ground. A rustling of leaves alarmed her. Turning her head slightly, she found herself almost within kissing distance of a brown snake that seemed equally surprised to see her.
Great, she was probably in its tree. Were snakes like dogs? If she didn’t show fear, would it leave her alone? The sounds of masculine voices and horses alerted her to men right below. The large draft horses carrying armored knights trampled the undergrowth, sending a variety of forest inhabitants scurrying for safety. Leah made the mistake of looking away from the snake to observe what was happening below.
Henry, mounted on a horse, pointed in the direction they’d come. “She was right behind me. I swear it.”
One knight pulled his horse to a stop and pushed up his visor. “Your loss, farmer. Our master especially wanted the one named Arabella. Your pay is little without her.”
Henry turned his agitated horse in a circle and pointed to the trees. “Look up. She has to be up there.”
Her betrayer kept pointing up, but the men in full armor had difficulty following his pointing finger. Any movement to look up caused their visors to shut. The metal collars limited their range of motion. One knight, frustrated with his inability to look into the trees, shouted, “Go get her, farmer.”
Henry dismounted and with a thunderous countenance strode to a tree, muttering loudly enough for everyone to hear. “She’s a witch. She comes and goes as she pleases. One moment she’s here, the next she’s gone.”
Leah invoked the elements to watch over her as she tried to control her shivering. It felt like something was crawling on her skin. Henry looked at all the trees, probably looking for one with branches low enough for her to reach. He strolled to her tree with a triumphant smile.
Mother Earth, help me now,” she whispered, wrapping her hands around her arms to discover they felt somewhat rubbery. A quick glance revealed the snake had draped itself over her shoulders. She realized it wasn’t her skin that resembled a basketball covering, but the snake’s. Her hands wrapped around the snake’s body. The brownish reptile lay complacent against her, taking advantage of her body heat. She gently lifted the snake and held it in front of her. With a mental apology to the snake, she dropped it without a sound.
The six-foot snake landed on Henry. His screams indicated a fear of snakes, or of unexpected objects falling from trees. The knights laughed as he danced around, trying to free himself from the reptile. The snake wrapped itself around his neck, trying to hold on after its most recent flight. “Do something!”
One knight unsheathed a sword and waved it over his head. “I can cut it from your neck.” He demonstrated with a few sweeping arcs of his sword.
The knight looked a little wobbly. Leah was unsure if he was tired or drunk. Henry must have thought the same, because he yelped, “No sword!”
The two knights signaled to each other, put down their visors, and galloped off. Henry staggered to a stop and dropped to his knees. “This is how it ends.” He fell forward, resting on his elbows. The snake felt close enough to the ground to slither from Henry’s neck, making a slow turn through the grass to head back to its tree, which guaranteed Henry would not be climbing it any time soon.
Henry pushed up, threw a malice-filled look at the snake. The lower part of his tunic had darkened with moisture, demonstrating his real fear of reptiles. Nope, Henry definitely wouldn’t be climbing up the tree. Obviously, Mother Earth had sent her the snake. Thank the Goddess, it wasn’t hurt.
Cursing, Henry swung into the saddle of his horse to follow the other riders. Would he come back and search for her again? Would he assume she’d just vanished since she had before? Her thighs could only take so much of pretending to be a bird on a wire. The forest sounds of birds calling and animals rustling under the underbrush began to return, assuring her the men were gone.
Reaching to another limb for balance, she pulled herself upright, ignoring her protesting muscles. She’d give them another thirty minutes to get out of the area, but she needed to get moving while there was still daylight.
The brown snake made its way slowly up the tree. Leah watched with both gratefulness and trepidation. Couldn’t say she had ever been fond of snakes, but then again, she’d never had any experience with them, either. This snake had saved her life. It really was a very special snake. As if reading her thoughts, the snake made its way to her branch. It slithered up to her and stopped. The lower half of its body twined around the branch, the other half, which included the head, rose to look in her direction as if trying to communicate.
Lowering carefully back down to her haunches, she reached out a hand to lightly touch the reptile’s head. “Thank you, Brother Snake. I owe you.”
A light of recognition shone in its beady eyes. Its tongue slid out, tasted the air, and withdrew into its mouth.
Keeping her hand on the snake’s head, Leah decided it wasn’t that scary at all. “I’m sorry for throwing you. I understand now we are all pearls on a string.”
An impression of flight, then a sudden ending of flight filled her mind. Her mouth dropped open. Could she read the snake’s mind? Jerking her hand back, she considered the snake. Could it tell her which way to go? She doubted it.
Standing gingerly, she stepped carefully over the snake. Using the branches, she backed her way down the tree until she got to the last branch and had to jump. Turning in a circle, she reached for the pendant Nana had given her. Fisting her fingers around it, she prayed for guidance. The sun appeared to be on its descent. In that case, she would head to the east, the direction of new beginnings.
The women began to sing a song about the circle being open but unbroken. Leah sensed this without seeing it, just as she knew her father had stepped into the room now that the ritual had ended. No one would complain about his masculine energy as if it were a contaminant. Her mother still grasped one hand, while Nora wove her fingers through hers. Nana left her position at her back to herd her fellow witches into the kitchen.
Savory smells wafted from the kitchen as the women opened up or heated dishes they’d brought. Nana rounded up close to every plate they owned amid the clatter of dishes and silverware. Their family was not in the habit of serving more than six, which may have been all the plates they had.
Mother’s grip tightened and loosened as she stood. “I should go help.”
Nora kept a silent vigil with her in companionable silence. In some ways, Leah was rather like Helen Keller. Adrift in a world none of them knew or could understand. Her eyelids stayed closed as she allowed her mind to examine the revelations she’d received.
The older her seemed to have a deeper knowledge of the myriad things that motivated the human heart. The older man’s motivation puzzled her. Did he truly think women were the source of evil? Sure, there were chauvinistic males now who thought men were superior to women, but that was the extent of it. They might keep mental lists of jobs not suitable for a female. Sometimes they might express their opinions loudly. Overall, though, they posed no danger to her or the way of life of most American women.
Not so much with the not-so-good abbot. He needed to punish women as much as he needed to enslave the young priests. His potion should do the trick. She’d heard about soldiers in various wars becoming morphine addicts. The abbot might just be doing what those in power had done before him and after. Lionel used to be such a sweet, idealistic individual. Leah realized she felt compassion for the boy he used to be. The crazed, angry priest Lionel had evolved into was firm on her destruction. He did not merit her sympathy.
Someone in the kitchen called Nora’s name, causing her to let go of Leah’s hand. Her sister kissed her hair in passing and whispered, “Be safe, little sister.”
That’s all it took. With Nora leaving and letting go of her hand, the tugging increased, reminiscent of some horror movie she’d watched where tiny people lived under the floorboards. They were not kind, helpful brownies. No, these people were cruel and devious. It felt like they were pulling on her from all sides. She struggled to release the pull of the past. Maybe seeing Nana’s plants scattered around the room would help break her trance.
Her eyelids popped open at about the same time that she sank deeper into the chair, dropping into another dimension. Nora’s voice echoed as she fell: “Leah’s fading. Stop her.”
She fell, aware she was passing through time, seeing flashes of color and light. That had never happened before. What was different? Instead of hitting the ground in a clumsy heap, she floated to the ground rather like Mary Poppins, but with no umbrella.
She gently touched the ground with her bare feet settling on the cold-packed dirt. Tall trees threw out intimidating shadows with the setting sun. Once she made full contact with the ground, she shook out her robe. Her hands bunched the wide skirt of the voluminous blue and green robe. She still had it on. That was odd.
From behind the trees appeared a few heads. In the fading light, she thought she made out the features of Henry and Sabina. Henry eased around the tree, checking out her dress in detail. “Your garment is passing strange for these parts.”
Sabina, possibly emboldened by Henry’s behavior, stepped out from the tree with a swagger, as if she weren’t afraid. “You fell out of the heavens like an angel, a fallen angel.” Sliding closer, she reached out to touch the richly decorated fabric.
The instant Sabina’s fingers touched the cloth, she yelped. “The fabric burned me. It is enchanted. You are a witch.”
Ideally, she knew the robe was supposed to help her. Although all it seemed to be doing now was confirming her witch status. Still, she wondered if that was the plan. Instead of cowering and awaiting death, she was to stand strong. Now would be a good time to start as any. “I am a witch. The gown is enchanted.”
Old Margaret stepped out from behind a tree, pointing a gnarled finger at her. “You bear the blame for my house gone.”
“Not really.” Leah held her hands out in front of her as if she could stop the words and the incipient guilt they carried. “Ignorance and fear are the culprits, not me. “
Turning in Henry’s direction, she asked, “Didn’t you tell me your property was seized for the church after the mayor named you a witch?”
“This is true,” he agreed, and then placed a small twig between his teeth to chew. His brow furrowed in thought. Pulling the stick out of his mouth, he gestured with it. “The mayor had need to put me out of the way. Once I confronted him with the knowledge I knew he be cheating the townsfolk by only giving them back a percentage of the grain they brought in to be milled. Enough angry villagers would have turned on him as opposed to me, Old Margaret, or Sabina.”
Leah listened, familiar with Henry’s tale, but she wanted the others to hear it again. Strange how someone else they knew repeating the same premise that she wasn’t to blame sounded more believable from lips other than hers. “In my time, they’d refer to Margaret and Sabina as collateral damage. They didn’t do anything wrong, but just to have Henry, a man, accused as a witch would appear suspicious, especially if it were known he’d disagreed with the mayor.”
Taking a cautious step forward, Margaret slowly circled Leah. Fearing the woman wasn’t in her right mind after the destruction of her home and the loss of her beloved cat, Leah turned with her, never allowing the woman behind her back. The woman might have been packing a sharp knife.
Sabina placed both hands on her hips and gave Henry a knowing look. “People knew there was bad blood between Henry and the mayor. The village wanted Henry to be the mayor because he was a fair man, but the title is an appointed one. Rumors were that money changed hands to ensure the title fell as it did.”
“Not rumors, ’tis the truth,” Henry said, the anger in his face gathering like storm clouds. “All the more reason to be rid of me.” Kicking at a rock in the path with his booted foot, he swore something indistinct, most likely directed at the mayor.
In some ways, Henry was the natural leader of the villagers. It paid to get rid of your strongest competition first. How convenient the church just happened to have these witch trials to help remove the troublesome element. “Why do you think there are all these accusations flying about cattle dying, crops failing, and witches? It is obvious the mayor uses it to get rid of people he doesn’t like, but why does it work?”
Old Margaret answered first. “Times have always been hard. The earth makes us work hard to bring forth food. Calves, lambs, and even children die often before birth. Our sin causes bad things to happen, but no one wants to be guilty of causing their own child to die, so it is easier to blame someone else. It is easier to let someone else take the punishment, forgetting their sin caused the problem.”
The urge to correct the old woman about the true nature of sin died a quick death. These people only knew what the priests had told them. Their minds were not exactly receptive vessels waiting for her to pour knowledge into them. “Still, like you said, Margaret, people have had problems all through the centuries. Why start blaming witches? What does it mean to be a witch?”
Sabina cocked her head curiously. “You call yourself a witch. Mayhap you should tell us?”
“True,” Leah agreed, realizing it was the first time she’d ever called herself a witch in public. She’d gone to the regional meetings where people assumed she must be a witch because of her mother and grandmother, but still that hadn’t always rung true. It had to be a personal experience. You weren’t a witch due to your relatives. “My kind of witch is not what you think. I am bound to work for the good of all and the harm of none. I honor both people and nature. Many Wiccans in my time choose not to eat meat, to honor their fellow creatures.”
Henry shook his head as if astounded. “That is more than passing strange.” Interlacing his fingers, he turned out his palms and cracked his knuckles. “I’ve given much thought to all that you have said. I’ve thought on it before. Those of us who cannot read are at a disadvantage. The clergy say the Bible tells us to do this witch killing, but we cannot read to see if it is so. Scripture translation suits whoever is in power. Heard tell in France and Italy, the clerics meet to vote on which Scriptures they will believe. King James, a powerful man afraid of witches, put out the edict for the last rewriting.”
“The man is trying to deny his destiny.” Margaret cackled. “Rumor was a fortune-teller told him a witch would cause his death. Seems fitting that he rid himself of all.”
Sabina strutted in a circle until she gained everyone’s attention. “A visiting tinker I happened to strike up an acquaintanceship with had been up to London. He told me all about the king.”
Margaret gazed at Henry and Leah. “That explains the new pots you acquired.”
Sticking her nose in the air and ignoring the old woman’s remarks, Sabina continued. “King James’ favorites are all men, three especial men.”
Henry and Margaret gasped in response, but Leah couldn’t figure out what was special about having friends. Didn’t kings have friends? Then it hit her. Special friends. But that wasn’t okay in these times. “Aren’t there laws against having special friends if you are a man, and those friends are men?”
“Yes,” Sabina answered, smacking her fist into her hand. “Kings don’t follow laws like we do. Who will punish them?”
She had a point. “Do you think this whole witch hunt is a smoke screen to keep people from finding out about his boyfriends?”
Henry stroked his chin. “I hope not. I imagine that, besides his wife, most folks do not care what James does. It has been the way of kings to blame others. There is also word of Jews, lepers, and gypsies bringing plagues and pestilence. Then again, most people do what benefits them the most. Right now, chasing us out of town benefits them. I do not believe they even want us to go to trial. It is best that we vanish. If we went to trial, I would say all I know, causing questions to grow in the minds of fellow villagers.”
Leah understood what Henry was proposing. “You're saying we should just pick up and go elsewhere? What about your property?”
“Yes, it is the best solution. I believe my townspeople do not want to put me to the test and have me die in the testing. When I saw which way the wind blows, my cousin and I traveled to the next village to have a deed drawn up that transfers my land to my cousin. My land stays in my family, instead of going to the church. If the mayor moves against my cousin, then he’ll do it with scrutiny, because all will remember how he was with me. I do not think the move too difficult.” Henry shrugged his shoulders as if it were nothing.
The man had to be one of the most easygoing she’d ever run across. He reminded her of her father in some ways. Margaret didn’t share his attitude. She stomped her feet angrily, ignoring the pain that must have been resonating through her bare feet. “Easy for you, Henry. Your cousin has pledged to take care of you. In one fell swoop, he has all he ever wanted. I’ve nothing. Nothing, do you hear me? What little I had burned to the ground.” Her eyes cut to Leah, letting her know she still blamed her.
Taking two large steps to reach Margaret’s side, he wrapped his arms around the angry woman. “I will take care of you. I feel beholden since my initial charge may have compounded the accusations leveled against you and Sabina.”
Sabina folded her arms and tapped her toe, as if waiting for Henry to say something. She cleared her throat when that didn’t work. Henry let go of Margaret and threw up his hands.
“I suppose you want me to offer to care for you, too.” Henry said the words as if put upon. Sabina smiled, looking up through her lashes, in an expression that may have garnered her more than new pots. “I am not sure what good it would do either of us. A new town will be full of new prospects for you. They won’t approach you if they think you’re under my care. On the other hand, I doubt I want to go to the trouble to look after you to have you take off when someone more to your taste arrives.”
Sabina bit her lips, and then concurred. “You’re right. You can be my brother wherever we stop.”
Leah watched all this interaction and wondered what it meant for her. She wasn’t here to be part of a traveling band of misfit would-be witches. Still, until the universe made her path a little clearer, she’d follow along. The sunlight streaming through the leaves reminded her it was daytime. The breeze chilled her slightly, making her wonder what season it was. Both Margaret and Sabina sported shawls, although Sabina wore hers wrapped around her hips, cinching her skirt closer, no doubt to emphasize her curves. Margaret huddled under hers, shivering as if she’d never be warm again.
Henry, on the other hand, wore a loose tunic-like shirt and a rough vest over it. He didn’t act cold. Leah was sure men somehow stayed warmer in archaic times, unless it was uncool for a guy to act cold. In the mornings when her father drove her to school, there were plenty of jacketless boys at the bus stop, who acted as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Some of them did look a little on the frozen side.
If things went well, somehow she’d bump into Grandpa, recognize him despite the twenty-year gap since his last picture, grab him, and return home. It sounded like a good plan to her, with only a few possibilities of going very wrong. She wouldn’t find Grandpa. There was also the chance he liked it just fine here, which could be the real reason he’d never come back. Nope, she did not want to tell Nana that. Some people might think her grandmother was already in the angry mode, but currently she just lingered in the strong-willed and opinionated department. Leah never wanted to see her move up to angry.
There was her mission, as well, or the mission her family thought she was on. Was it a heroic mission like Joan of Arc’s? She doubted it. Was it a personal mission, more like solving something in her past so she could return to her present? If so, what did she have to do? Lionel figured into it somehow, but that was the limit to her insight. That, and someone she trusted would betray her. Her eyes drifted to the three figures in front of her.
Sabina danced beside Henry, taking every opportunity to touch his arm and point out something. Leah’s lips twisted as she thought Henry mentioned a wife and family. That made no matter to Sabina. She was an opportunist. Nana would call her a gold digger. It must be natural for her to latch on to whatever man was around. The woman would definitely throw her under the bus, or in this case the wagon, if it would benefit her somehow.
Then there was Margaret. The woman leaned heavily on the walking stick Henry had cut for her. She had no qualms of letting Leah know she blamed her for everything, from the destruction of her house and livelihood to the disappearance of her feline. Margaret might not mean to harm her, but her loud protests would be enough to convict her.
Henry’s back was straight, his head held high, as he moved easily through the woods. Compared to the other villagers, the man obviously ate well and was in excellent health. His robust appearance varied greatly from the villagers with their frail frames, sunken cheeks, and lackluster expressions. Why was Henry in such good health?
July was the starving month. She remembered that from history class. People butchered their livestock in the winter. All through the winter months, they ate well on the harvest and meat. Spring was the time of sowing. By July, often their supplies ran out and nothing was ready to harvest. People often resorted to eating grass and anything else vaguely edible.
It was summer here. The canopy of trees was full and thick, not like the new growth of spring. Even though it seemed chilly, she reminded herself that seventy degrees was sometimes as high as it got for a British summer in the twentieth century. Added to that, they were in a shadowy woods and five hundred years in the past. It made sense it could be summer. With that in mind, Leah’s eyes rested on Henry. Of course, he’d be in good spirits if anticipating a generous reward for walking in trusting witches.
As preposterous as the thought seemed, she knew she was right. Her spirit guide had emphasized it would be someone she trusted. It was hard to betray someone who didn’t trust you, simply because they expected such actions. Should she find out Henry’s motives? Her pace slowed more as she contemplated her actions. If she got close enough to Henry, she might be able to scan his thoughts. So far, that little talent had turned out to be inconsistent, not working when she needed it and only working with people whose thoughts she pretty much knew already.
If she could get close enough, she’d read Henry’s thoughts to decide what his true intentions were. The sun broke through the canopy, highlighting the trio in front of her. She stopped, looking at the three of them as they came to a standstill. The sunlight bounced off something shiny. Flashes of silver peeked through the greenery. Leah didn’t need to be told it was a trap.
Slipping silently off the path, she searched for a climbable tree. Jumping for the bottom limb, she hurried as women’s screams echoed through the forest. She quickly pulled herself up into the tree. Climbing higher, she tried to ignore the shouts. The robe made it surprisingly easy to scamper up the tree, clinging close to her body instead of catching on limbs. The blue-green coloring disguised her among the leaves as well.
Crouching on a limb, she tried to slow her breathing. They might be able to find her just by listening for her panicky breathing. She reminded herself to inhale slowly through her nose. Her legs were starting to hurt from her crouched position. Definitely not a bird in another life. Her perch felt unsure, as if any type of movement might end with her falling to the ground. A rustling of leaves alarmed her. Turning her head slightly, she found herself almost within kissing distance of a brown snake that seemed equally surprised to see her.
Great, she was probably in its tree. Were snakes like dogs? If she didn’t show fear, would it leave her alone? The sounds of masculine voices and horses alerted her to men right below. The large draft horses carrying armored knights trampled the undergrowth, sending a variety of forest inhabitants scurrying for safety. Leah made the mistake of looking away from the snake to observe what was happening below.
Henry, mounted on a horse, pointed in the direction they’d come. “She was right behind me. I swear it.”
One knight pulled his horse to a stop and pushed up his visor. “Your loss, farmer. Our master especially wanted the one named Arabella. Your pay is little without her.”
Henry turned his agitated horse in a circle and pointed to the trees. “Look up. She has to be up there.”
Her betrayer kept pointing up, but the men in full armor had difficulty following his pointing finger. Any movement to look up caused their visors to shut. The metal collars limited their range of motion. One knight, frustrated with his inability to look into the trees, shouted, “Go get her, farmer.”
Henry dismounted and with a thunderous countenance strode to a tree, muttering loudly enough for everyone to hear. “She’s a witch. She comes and goes as she pleases. One moment she’s here, the next she’s gone.”
Leah invoked the elements to watch over her as she tried to control her shivering. It felt like something was crawling on her skin. Henry looked at all the trees, probably looking for one with branches low enough for her to reach. He strolled to her tree with a triumphant smile.
Mother Earth, help me now,” she whispered, wrapping her hands around her arms to discover they felt somewhat rubbery. A quick glance revealed the snake had draped itself over her shoulders. She realized it wasn’t her skin that resembled a basketball covering, but the snake’s. Her hands wrapped around the snake’s body. The brownish reptile lay complacent against her, taking advantage of her body heat. She gently lifted the snake and held it in front of her. With a mental apology to the snake, she dropped it without a sound.
The six-foot snake landed on Henry. His screams indicated a fear of snakes, or of unexpected objects falling from trees. The knights laughed as he danced around, trying to free himself from the reptile. The snake wrapped itself around his neck, trying to hold on after its most recent flight. “Do something!”
One knight unsheathed a sword and waved it over his head. “I can cut it from your neck.” He demonstrated with a few sweeping arcs of his sword.
The knight looked a little wobbly. Leah was unsure if he was tired or drunk. Henry must have thought the same, because he yelped, “No sword!”
The two knights signaled to each other, put down their visors, and galloped off. Henry staggered to a stop and dropped to his knees. “This is how it ends.” He fell forward, resting on his elbows. The snake felt close enough to the ground to slither from Henry’s neck, making a slow turn through the grass to head back to its tree, which guaranteed Henry would not be climbing it any time soon.
Henry pushed up, threw a malice-filled look at the snake. The lower part of his tunic had darkened with moisture, demonstrating his real fear of reptiles. Nope, Henry definitely wouldn’t be climbing up the tree. Obviously, Mother Earth had sent her the snake. Thank the Goddess, it wasn’t hurt.
Cursing, Henry swung into the saddle of his horse to follow the other riders. Would he come back and search for her again? Would he assume she’d just vanished since she had before? Her thighs could only take so much of pretending to be a bird on a wire. The forest sounds of birds calling and animals rustling under the underbrush began to return, assuring her the men were gone.
Reaching to another limb for balance, she pulled herself upright, ignoring her protesting muscles. She’d give them another thirty minutes to get out of the area, but she needed to get moving while there was still daylight.
The brown snake made its way slowly up the tree. Leah watched with both gratefulness and trepidation. Couldn’t say she had ever been fond of snakes, but then again, she’d never had any experience with them, either. This snake had saved her life. It really was a very special snake. As if reading her thoughts, the snake made its way to her branch. It slithered up to her and stopped. The lower half of its body twined around the branch, the other half, which included the head, rose to look in her direction as if trying to communicate.
Lowering carefully back down to her haunches, she reached out a hand to lightly touch the reptile’s head. “Thank you, Brother Snake. I owe you.”
A light of recognition shone in its beady eyes. Its tongue slid out, tasted the air, and withdrew into its mouth.
Keeping her hand on the snake’s head, Leah decided it wasn’t that scary at all. “I’m sorry for throwing you. I understand now we are all pearls on a string.”
An impression of flight, then a sudden ending of flight filled her mind. Her mouth dropped open. Could she read the snake’s mind? Jerking her hand back, she considered the snake. Could it tell her which way to go? She doubted it.
Standing gingerly, she stepped carefully over the snake. Using the branches, she backed her way down the tree until she got to the last branch and had to jump. Turning in a circle, she reached for the pendant Nana had given her. Fisting her fingers around it, she prayed for guidance. The sun appeared to be on its descent. In that case, she would head to the east, the direction of new beginnings.