Burning The Unknown

By: [Lady Edana-Arianrhod Ros] For What If...

The morning sun crested the distant hills shedding its pink light across the field of clovers. Rose lifted her head as she sung her daily devotions to the rising sun, as well as the blessing over the clover she was gathering. Her voice lifted on the soft breeze that swept back her unbound golden hair. Her voice faltered as she looked around the field and something off in the wind. Just at the edge of the clearing, just coming out of woods that separated the town from the field was a group of townspeople, their faces hard and grim.

Leading them was Mayor Ragdash, he had never liked her or been especially kind to her. He resented the fact that she had come the small town with a group of immigrants from Ireland, and so had different cultural beliefs. It didn’t help that she was one of the few that remained faithful to the old beliefs in spite of the persecution.

She stood her ground as they approached, looking the mayor straight in the eyes. His cold brown eyes flashed with anger at her resistance and unwillingness to submit. He smiled coldly, mocking her, daring her to run. There were a few torches being carried by some of the townspeople. She knew what was happening, she had heard stories spread across the coast of the “Witch Trials” as they were called. They had started in some place called Salem she heard, but she had no idea where it was, she never ventured far from the town.
“So, Rose, we’ve caught in the act of witchcraft." They mayor’s smile grew colder. “I guess there’s only one thing to do with her, right, guys?”

The townspeople shouted agreement. They grabbed her roughly, causing her to drop the basket of clover she’d gathered. They bound her hands behind her back so tightly it caused the joints of her arms and shoulders to ache, and her wrists began to turn red with welts immediately.

As they dragged her through the forest back to the town, if any of them looked at her they would have thought her vacant distant stare just an act of defiance, but her soul was screaming to let her show the emotions ripping through her. She fought back tears that longed to be shed, the aching of her heart threatened to rip open her chest. She had heard what happened to those girls and women accused of being witches, most were burned without a trial.

It was not that she feared death, but that she feared leaving those she loved. For her family she was their one tie back to their old home, she didn’t want to leave them all alone with this new religion and cruel world. For her lover she was one of his few ties to reality, one of his few joys. She feared that if she was taken from him he would simply stop wanting to live. She could not bear to think of his heartache.

The birds of the forest were distressed as she was dragged through their realm. They knew her and loved her. Some of them became daring enough to attack the townspeople dragging her roughly through the forest. The townspeople became worried, and she heard whispered words of how this was more of her witchcraft. Fearing the townspeople would hurt her feathered friends she sent comforting thoughts, and told them to just stay back. The birds went back up into the trees, but their worried chorus was still heard throughout the entire forest, following her back to the town.

Word had obviously spread that they were going out to the field to get her, when they got back to the town the streets were lined with people shouting. Among the faces she saw a few that were friendly to her that were now touched with sorrow and worry. Her lover made a move to intercepts them and she silently plead with him to stay back. He hung his head and stepped back next to her family. The crowd jeered her the entire way to the small jailhouse.

When they finally arrived at the small brown brick building she was shoved roughly into a small cell. Her captors didn’t even bother to unbind her wrists; they just let her fall to the floor with no sympathy showing in their eyes. She lay there quietly as the men laughed and bent over a desk writing something on sheet of paper. They finally left, closing the door, and shutting her in almost total darkness. It was then, in her solitude, that she let the unshed tears fall on the cold stone.

A few hours later a burly, unshaved man, one she recognized as being the miller came in the door, roughly shoving it open. “You burn at midnight, Witch.”His laughter echoed through the small building as he slammed the door closed again. She thanked God that he was on the other side of it. She sat next to the one small window watching the sun creep across the sky. No food was brought to her, and she wouldn’t have accepted it if any had been. She wanted nothing to do with these people any more; none of them had a spot in her heart.

Just before sunset a familiar face showed itself just over the edge of the windowsill. Her lovers face was soft and sad, she could see he was suffering with the thought of her loss. She smiled softly at him, trying to encourage him.

“I don’t see how you can smile with all those tears in your eyes.” He whispered to her. She knew she couldn’t fool him and a tear rolled down her cheek.

“I’m sorry.” She said, letting the tears come freely now. He reached through the bars and cradled her face and she noticed a light come into his eye.

“Don’t worry, everything will be fine. Just wait, and you will see, but don’t loose faith.” He kissed his fingers and placed them gently on her lips then disappeared.

She whispered to his receding form as the red light of the sun flooded her small cell, “Don’t worry, I’ll be here until midnight.”

Just before midnight an owl perched itself on her windowsill and cooed softly to her. She leaned close to the bars and and nuzzled it soft head; it nibbled softly on her nose, as if to say, "I'm here". Then she thought she heard some talking out side the door of the jail. “Well,” she said softly to the owl, “the time has come, I must say good bye. Perhaps I will see you when you go to sleep in peace as well.”

The door was pushed open letting the light of the torches on the other side flood in to the small building. The light from the torches was behind the man in front of the gathering so she could not see his face. In a flutter of wings the owl lifted off the sill suddenly. The torches were slowly lowered, and the man in front took on that was offered to him and he approached the cell, the jingle of keys saying he had come for her.

The face she saw in the light as he approached, instead of filling her with fear and hatred, filled her with a longing to cry out in joy. Her lover’s face was smiling mischievously. He unlocked the door, and upon entering set the torch in a wall holder and embraced her warmly, but did not waste much time in getting the tight bands around her wrists. When the bands fell he gently kissed the welt-covered wrists and scooped her up in his arms and carried her out.

As she rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck she heard him whisper, “You are safe now. No one will ever harm you again.” He carried her out past the small gathering of her friends and family. She looked up and saw that supplies had been gathered in several wagons and that the town was quiet with no lights except in the central gathering hall. She looked up at him in question and he smiled.

“They had a party to celebrate your capture, and they should have followed their God’s advise on drunkenness.” He explained. “I have a feeling when the sleeping powder wears off they will not be happy. We must all go.”

She looked around in wonder at everyone that had helped drug the town as he gently set her down on the seat of one of the wagons. He made one last check of everything in the wagons to make sure they had everything they needed then climbed up onto the seat next to her. As one half of the town was snoring softly within the gather hall in a drugged stupor the other half quietly drove their wagons out into the night with supplies to begin a new life of their own.

Rose looked back at the sleepy town, the first she had known in this new world, and watched the moon raise. As she sang her devotions to the moon, the shadow of a white owl soared up hovering in the middle of the glowing orb. After a moment it winged out and followed the small caravan out through the forest.