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Clavis Wealh, you are hereby on trial for the sin of Witchcraft. Evidence has been collected against you, and will be listed aloud. You have been judged for these crimes by our holy order, and will face punishment appropriately.
The shed door opened with a creak as my witch ushered me inside. The air was surprisingly warm compared to the crackling dust of ice coating the grass outside, and I took a moment to soothe my paws with rasps of my tongue. A snap of my witch’s fingers on a wick filled the small entry with flickering light. She eased the second door open carefully, revealing a dark room creaking with audible pops and squeaks… as if something was fighting to free itself from the ground.
I crouched low to the ground, my ears flat to my head as my witch strode into the room, setting her basket on the ground and lighting a second candle. The added light revealed tall red canes wreathed by sickly yellow leaves. My eyes could track the minute twitches as they sprouted in front of me, and I couldn’t help but hiss.
“Oh hush, Hellebore,” my witch said calmly as she placed each candle in a holder and pulled shears from her skirts. “There’s no devilry going on here. They really are simple plants. Sweeter, from the shade.”
The rubbery squeaks in the room became muffled by clips as my witch patiently cut the canes into pieces and stored them in her basket. “These are the secret to my success,” she whispered conspiratorially as we emerged back into the winter air. "The winter has been harsh; I'm sure our friends in town will be delighted for a taste of honey-sweet things during mid-winter. And we can get soaps and bread for us."
The dawning light made the flakes of falling snow glimmer as we passed the covered beehives my witch tended so carefully and began our trek to town. I tried to bat them from the air, but I missed and fell into a snow pile with a puff. White clumps clung to my black fur as I clawed free, and I complained with a low whine. My witch’s throaty laugh of delight echoed through the trees.
The devil's hand can be seen in such cursed rhubarb you grow in your shed. No other farmer has produced such red fruit and certainly not in the dead of winter. Tell us Witch, could another bring life in such an unholy manner without the devil's hand?
My witch called out greetings to a pair of men conversing outside a shadowed wooden building that still smelled of cut oak. They returned her greetings jovially, but as their gazes fell on me, the smiles fell. Some human expression darkened their faces, one that mine had never used before. They made an odd gesture with their hands as we passed, and I paused to hiss at them. One stepped toward me threateningly, as the other paled and shielded his gaze, retreating to a wooden cross nailed to the building. I puffed my fur as he approached, before darting to the safety of my witch’s skirts as the man hollered after me like a barking dog.
My witch had stopped at a house, and was speaking with a woman half-shadowed by her door. I couldn’t make out the woman’s words, but my witch seemed grim as she responded, “No, Ottivia, I’m afraid I was snowed off for the last moon. T’was not safe to travel, not if I wished to make it home. There’s naught a chance it was I you’ve seen. I can look after the heifer if you wish, and make sure she is strong enough to last the rest of the winter?”
The little I could see of the woman’s face seemed insulted by the suggestion, and opened the door wider to say more words to my witch in a sharp tone. My witch backed up a step, and I pressed up against her leg in support, yearning for the safety of our cottage. “Has something happened? Your nephew, he is still well? The frost is always hardest on the young ones, and I delivered him but six moons ago.” There was another retort, but this one caused my witch to relax. “Such is good news, if there is another healer in town. Ah, I have come with rhubarb. I remember your jam to be delightful, perhaps you can make some for him to help the potions down easier.”
There was a pause from the woman. “I think it best if you left town, Clavis. Much has changed, and we are not the place for you anymore.”
My witch shifted, and I peered from her skirts to see her replace the ruby canes in her basket. “I see. May your family do well for the rest of the frost, Ottivia. My door is open if you require it.” We strode away, my legs pumping as I kept up with my witch’s stride. I peered back at the woman, whose face was lit by a soft beam of sun as she gazed after us before retreating back into the shadows and slamming the door behind her. A wooden cross painted with flowers rattled on the door.
Your evil deeds have been revelealed to me, witch, by your victims. Your words offer the temptation of the devil, your gifts are his very fruit. His shadows walks in yours, and feeds off of the lives and health of the vulnerable members of this town. Many have confessed the sins of trusting you, begging and praying to our lord to remove their guilt and fear.
Our path around the village barely depleted my witch’s basket of the cane, only a chunk of tallow, a bottle of seeds, and a loaf bread were added to her load. Just as many who greeted her with pleasure also seemed wary enough to turn away her offers of rhubarb, and more of those mysterious expressions and rigid crosses barred our trail as the shadows of the day crept larger.
A shout of my witch's name had us turn to a harried woman who smelled strongly of herbs and lye.She took my witch's arm and they began walking swiftly and speaking in hushed tones. I yowled to catch her attention, the setting sun set my fur on edge and I wished to leave for the safety of home, but my witch shushed me before turning back to the conversation.
“I set aside a batch of soap just for you, Clavis,” the woman said quietly. “I’ll go fetch that while you’re busy, but this sickness has come on so sudden. Those holy men haven’t done much except say big words and fancy prayers, and if this sickness sits too long in weather like this, I doubt Piers will make it to thaw.”
“What ails has he expressed?”
“His eyes are the worst. First red, and now they’ve swollen shut. His cough is wet and harsh as well, and keeps even the neighbors on edge. Oh Clavis, please say you will do something.”
My witch thinned her lips and stayed silent, nodding in thanks to the woman as they approached the house and stepped inside. It was cluttered and small, lit by two small windows and a small fire in the hearth. It smelled rotten and sick, and I flattened my ears in disgust. A thin young woman looked up at our entrance and came forward hesitantly. “Clavis, you have come. Have you any potions for my father?”
“May I see him?”
As the pair fussed over the man on the bed, I couldn't get that scent out of my nose. I opened my mouth to follow it, and found myself peeking behind a leaking water jug in a dark corner. I stuck my head in the crevice, but knocked over the boxes with a clatter, sending me darting under the bed to hide. My witch knelt to pick up the boxes with murmured apologies before pausing. “Something has caught my eye. Could you help me shift your water barrel from the wall?”
After much fussing and grunting, my witch peered into the darkness, before shaking her head in agitation. She rustled in her pockets before pulling out two candles. She handed one to the girl, lighting it with a snap of her fingers before touching the lit wick to her own. Together, they looked closer at the wall. "'Tis seems my Hellebore was able to find the root of a curse on your walls. Look, do you see this black growth? 'Tis an insidious presence cultivated to sicken those around it . You will have to abandon this abode, I am loathe to say. The wards have been tarnished. Any further exposure and you could grow sick as well.”
The young woman let out a mournful wail, as my witch knelt and picked up a rotten book that had fallen behind the barrel, covered with spots of green and black. It had a single cross on it, and I hissed at it. My witch wrapped it in a scarf, stowing it in her skirts as she listed safe houses and cabins left empty to house the cursed pair. Leaving two red canes on the table, a quick embrace, and promises of herbal potions to ease the curse, my witch stepped into the twilight with urgency in her stride.
I had to dart quickly after her, startling the curious widows clutching miniature crosses gathered in a huddle on the doorstep like a murder of crows. Their eyes, followed us like a buzzard eyes carrion, and I hissed at them before following my witch further into town.
Plague follows you, showing the trails of your curses. The symbol of our church in your pocket could only be corrupted by your evil hands and deeds. How many in this town must fall sick before you are sated? The family of Piers Greene lie homeless and dying because of your hate, and the house they stayed in has been raised to the ground. Do you deny this, Witch?
My witch led us swiftly to a hut smelling so strongly of herbs, I felt my whiskers curl, and I meowed in protest.
“Clavis, it’s been a full moon since we’ve seen you in town. And look, you’ve found yourself a shadow,” said a kindly man covered with wrinkles and white wisps of hair. I lashed my tail as we walked in, and eyed the room trepidatiously.
“This shadow has to be nursed to health, unfortunately. He crawled under my porch with a missing eye and tears in his fur. He’s lucky to be on his feet so soon. I'll need some of your stores of horehound, marshmallow, and nettle. Perhaps ginger, if you have any.”
My ears twitched as a felt a breeze on my ear, and I glanced around the hut to find the draft. The door had been shut, but there was a window behind a pile of boxes. My witch sat on a stool by the counter, looking tired as she rested her legs, and I felt the need to curl up underneath her. However, a quiet scuffle from the window caught my attention again, and I leapt on top of the boxes, shaking the pile and causing my witch to scold me. I blinked at her, lashing my tail as I held her gaze. Surely she could see something was wrong?
“Pity about the eye. The amber colored ones are said to be able to see the bad omens clearly, as my mother would say.”
Perhaps he was a wiser old man than I thought.
She hummed in response as she watched him work. “I saw the new church on the edge of town. I thought that was to be a new boarding house for the harvesters?”
“Golden tongues come with golden coffers. Our Lord on the hill declared it himself. You’d do best to watch yourself, child. The priest is dissastisfied he can't keep a closer eye on you. Whispers of disease and death have come to my ears more regularly from the woods beyond ours, and I fear fire and rope are tales in many of them. Perhaps you should take a necklace home, just to appease him.”
“You think a simple cross would suffice in reducing his ire? I believe only a marriage and a son would settle his condemnation of me, and even then he would still track my every move. And no man I have met is one who would be satisfied living in the woods and caring for my bees. So much has changed since your mothers time. Oh, how I miss her wisdom and magic.”
I leaned down to inspect the window, whiskers twitching from the cool draft. There were fingers holding the sash above the sill, but I couldn't make out the body behind the swirls of frost.
"And you have developed your own wisdom and magic well, lass. Say, there is another child in town who bears an interest in plants, and has the gift of sight. Perhaps at the thaw, you could take him under your wing as my mother did for you?"
"Your memory is fleeing you, my friend. Did you not just warm me to appease the priest? And a child you offer to me, rather than a husband?"
"Your skills are becoming of you, Clavis. You've done more for this town since the harvest than that fool priest has this whole year. The town could not be so foolish as to disregard your knowledge. Who else has been trusted to deliver our children and calves for years? To have this knowledge passed to another should be an honor."
"Your advice is confusing, old friend. Should I appeal to the priest or to the town, when they seem to be becoming more and more the same body? I have been told to leave more times than I care to count today, and I have more rhubarb than I know what to do with."
I swiped at the fingers under the window, making the human shriek as the shash thuded back into place.
"It appears we've been overheard," the old man said gravely. "Never have I seen so many idling eavesdroppers than before the golden tongue touched this town. Here, your herbs. Hurry home."
“And your rhubarb. Stay well, my friend.”
You have been seen colluding with your coven and harvesting the interests of the good folk of these holy town. You have sucked the resources from our people, and spread your unholy goods, but no more. God has delivered unto us the ways to see through your seductions and lies.
My witch and I hurried from the hut, taking a shortcut on the edge of town. My eye could see well in the dimming twilight, and I was concerend to find that the trail of footprints leading to our cottage was worn by more boots than hers. I stopped, and meowed at my witch. Surely she could see?
She paused briefly, "Hellebore, we must hurry home. Making haste will quicken treatment for Piers; he has need of the potion." I sat, dabbing my paw at the snow as I held her gaze and meowed once more. Frowning, she shook her head. "You stay here, then. You're on the mend and you can make do on your own, perhaps this was always time for goodbye."
Goodbye? No, that was no way to help my witch. I begrudgingly followed her, attempting to scent the path. The snow wiped away most scents, leaving just the honey-sweetness of my witch, the musty book she carried, and the whiff of earth from her basket. Darkness descended, and though my witch lit a candle, it still flickered too weakly to illuminate much.
At last, I could see lumps of beehives and the outline of our home, however another scent came to me. One that smelled of fresh cut oak, musty linens, and harsh incense. I dashed between my witch's legs, making her stumble in the snow. "Hellebore, what in blazes has yanked your tail?"
I hissed, standing between her and the cottage. "That's enough, cat. Sleep outside if you will, but you are not a creature to command me," she hissed back. The candle flickered out, and my witch cursed before stalking around me, and I watched with dismay as she climbed the porch to enter the unwarded home.
Clavis Wealh, you are hearby found to be guilty. This Witch’s rot shall be cleansed by hanging, so declareth the Lord.