Night had fallen. Ma had been to the table to eat, but now she was back in bed again, too weak to stay up for long. Still, she was healing well. I had cleaned and dressed her wound, and it was starting to close with no redness or discharge. I was grateful that she would recover.
She dozed upon her pillow now, and I was ready to slip out and reverse the spell that had befallen poor Tysen. My tools and herbs were assembled. All that I needed was a gem-stone from Ma’s cupboard. I opened the cabinet door and poked about, searching for a stone with the right charge. I found a malachite, a bluish stone with bands of white. Holding it thoughtfully in my hands, I realized it would be a good stone to keep near me. Malachite was known to give wisdom, pointing one in the right direction, giving guidance. I was about to slip it in my pocket when the stone broke in half! Part of it tumbled from my hand, falling to the table with a thud.
Ma bolted up in bed. “What was that?” she asked.
“This malachite,” I told her, picking up the pieces from the floor. “It broke in two!”
“Oh, dear Goddess!” Ma exclaimed. She tried to rise from her bed, but I could see that the movement drained her.
“Don’t get up, Ma,” I said, tucking the blanket over her. “It’s all right.”
“But it’s not! This has dire meaning. Malachite breaks in two to give you a warning of danger. Something terrible is going to happen, Rose!”
I swallowed hard, trying to hold back my own panic. Oh, Goddess, are my dark spells coming back to me? I couldn’t bear to tell Ma the truth of my worries, to admit how deep I had fallen into spells she didn’t approve of.
“Oh, then. it must have been predicting your accident with the arrow,” I said, turning my face to the cupboard. I put the two pieces of malachite back on the shelf. “Because, actually, the stone broke last week. I simply forgot to mention it to you.”
“It was already broken?”
I could feel her fear draining away.
“Well, then, let’s hope you are right. Perhaps you are.” She turned on her side, content to fall back asleep.
I found an amethyst in her collection, then collected the candles and herbs I had gathered. It was time to save Tysen.
Quietly I slipped out the door and started up the path. Ahead of me light spilled down the lane. What was it from? A moment later torches floated up the path, heading this way.
I recoiled in fear. What had happened? Had Tysen died already and the Vykrothes come to punish me? I backed up to the door and nearly fell inside. Ma was already up, hobbling toward me.
“What is it, Rose?” she asked in a hoarse voice. “I sense the danger. What’s happening?”
“A band of people is coming,” I said, rushing to stow away the things I had collected for my spell. “I don’t know who they are, but they are not Vykrothes.”
“Let us see,” Ma said, shuffling painfully to the door.
I followed her out to the sea of darkness bobbing with torches and ghostly faces. In the lead the village reverend stepped forward, his mouth a slash of contempt.
“What business do you have with us so late at night, Reverend Winthrop?” my mother asked politely. “Have you come to pay a call upon the sick, for that is what I am. A victim of a hunter’s arrow.”
“I am sorry for your hardship,” Reverend Winthrop said. “But I am here on a mission from the Almighty Father. I have come to take your daughter to prison, Síle. On the morrow she will be tried as a witch.”
“It cannot be!” my mother protested.
“No!” I cried. I clutched my belly, buckling to my knees. A witch! How could it be that these people knew of my love for the Goddess? I had moved stealthily, attending church on Sundays and always careful not to speak of my true life around the villagers. A coldness overcame me as I stared out at them, my tears blurring their faces.
How could it be?
“Upon whose order do you take her?” my mother demanded.
The reverend did not answer. But someone stepped forward from the crowd—Siobhan!
“Upon my word!” she shouted. “I know her to be a witch, and I will testify against her.”
“No!” I pleaded. “ ’Tis not fair. She hates me! She wants to have revenge!”
But no one seemed to hear my cries as the men stepped forward and grabbed me by the shoulders. Brusquely they bound my wrists behind me and shoved me away from the cottage.
“No!” I cried, turning back to see Ma huddled at the doorway. “Ma! Please!”
But she merely watched me go with a stricken expression on her face. She held out a hand to me, as if I could clasp on and save myself from drowning.
But I could not. I marched off to prison, my heart hammering with fear that this was truly my death march. Because of Siobhan, I had been named as a witch. And no one, no one in the Highlands, had ever faced those charges and escaped alive.
On the morning of my trial a guard woke me and roughly ushered me into a cottage near the village center. I hoped they were bringing me to the table to break my fast, but when I saw the minister, Reverend Winthrop, along with a stout, bearded man, I reared back in fear.
“Dr. Wellington is here to examine you for the mark of the devil, Rose MacEwan,” said the reverend. “Off with your gown.”
The guard at the door crossed his arms, smiling at me.
I had never been ashamed of my body, having been raised among circles of unclad witches, but to go naked before such hostile eyes. I began to tremble. Would he realize that I was with child? If he did, ’twould prejudice the town against me.
“I cannot,” I said, folding my arms across my chest protectively.
“Balderdash!” the reverend shouted. He stepped forward and tore at the collar of my gown. “Remove your clothes, and I’ll remind you to make haste, for your trial is upon us.”
“No!” I shrieked, trying to pull away from him. I felt like a trapped animal; there was no way out. Closing my eyes, I began to take off my gown.
I stood there naked, feeling their lust and hatred swirl around me. Something jabbed at my buttocks, and I opened my eyes to see the physician jabbing at me with a stick, as if I were chattel in a field. Keeping his distance, he touched my buttocks, my thighs, my belly, my breasts. Humiliation burned in my throat, and I closed my eyes again.
I could not tell whether he knew I was with child. At this point the mound at my belly was quite pronounced and my breasts were swollen with milk, but I wasn’t sure this physician knew the realities of a woman’s body. His examination seemed more motivated by lust than professional interest.
And thus I began the day of my trial, naked before three peculiar men. After that I was allowed to dress and given a bowl of gruel, which I gobbled up eagerly. It was not enough food to sustain my babe, and I wondered if there would be more at lunch.
After breakfast I was dragged out to the center of our village, where I was tied rather barbarically to a hitching post. Villagers were free to assemble around me and witness the nightmare, and most of the villagers I saw every Sunday in church were in attendance. Among the faces gathered there, I saw the members of our coven—the MacGreavys, Norn, Aislinn, and the others. Ma was there, leaning gingerly on Miller MacGreavy’s cart. I spied Meara with two of the little ones in tow, and I wondered if she was their ma now. Kyra and Falkner were conspicuously absent, but I suspected that their parents had been fearful for their safety. If the village reverend started to get greedy, he might look for others who were guilty by association.
Standing in the center of the village, sweating under the late August sun and the scrutiny of so-called holy men, I felt horribly exposed. An alarming odor filled the air, something I could not identify. Was it a burning herb?
No, I thought, swallowing against the biting taste in my throat. It’s the smell of fear. My fear.