Her Most Grievous Sin

No Harvest

"Elias Sodson has lost his wits!"

The shouts in the street were growing louder. Temperence and I passed a look from across the kitchen table and moved towards the open window. Quickly, I tucked my bun under the coif cap that modestly covered my head. 

Even if the world was coming to an end, I would pay dearly for being seen uncovered. A slip of the sleeve to reveal a wrist was enough to report a woman to the Minister. The punishment for lewd behavior wasn't worth the risk.

"The fields! The fields are afire!" My father boomed as he ran through the town with other men from the root fields. "Fire! Quickly!"

Their shirts were smudged with ash. Beyond the ancient walls of our village, smoke rose ominously against the autumn blue sky. Temperence gripped my hand. Our mother rushed into the kitchen, tucking her shawl around her plump figure.

"What has happened? I thought I heard your father," she said, breathlessly.

"Elias Sodson has set fire to the field!" A shout came in response from outside.

The men of Whitscar were bounding out the well fortified gates. A few curious women dared stand on their doorsteps to peer up in horror at the black smoke. A child wept then was scolded before being dragged inside, the door slamming shut. 

Mother gripped my shoulders. She hissed a breath through her nose. "The Minister will have words on this event. I fear it will hurt more than Elias Sodson and his family. Poor Goodwife Sodson, she will pay as well, I fear."

"We will all pay, mother," Temperence prophesied darkly. "What crop has not been taken by the blight, this fire will destroy. The Chapel will not take kindly to this atrocity. We will all be blamed. Even us with Verity's marriage in a fortnight."

"Blamed for our sins, our grievous sins." I bowed my head and pressing a trembling hand to my heart three times. "Forgive us our sins, our grievous sins."

My mother and sister did the same, speaking with the same conviction as we did in Service. We were praying not only for our souls, but our own survival. Minister would see that every soul in Whitscar would be examined to find the perpetrator for our misfortune.

"For our sins, our grievous sins..." I murmured, gazing up at the dark wound of smoke against the beautiful horizon. My heart shrank in my breast. "Please let them not look to me," I whispered to myself over the murmur of the faithful.

 Even as the betrothed of the Minister's only son, I was not exempt from scrutiny. Perhaps, I was even more prone to it.

"It's gone, all gone," one of the returning men murmured as he trudged down the street towards the chapel. 

Minister appeared outside the Holy House, led on the strong arm of my soon-to-be husband. "Bring the mad man to me. And his wife and children."

Mother closed the window as quietly as possible. "We must pray for the Sodson family, that the Minister will find their sins so they might be restored."

We all knew that we prayed for our own wellbeing. If no fault could be found with Elias and Goodwife Sodson, then the rest of the village would be under the harsh eye of Minister. The three of us sank to our knees and prayed till I was dizzy with thirst. Then we took a drink of water and prayed still more, long after darkness fell and father returned from the fields, covered in soot and broken by the loss of the crops.

Between the blight and the fires, there would be no harvest that year.

The scent of smoke filled our home during our silent supper of bland pottage. Father's drawn countenance was gray with worry. His blue eyes did not smile toward Temperence and me. He called us his jewels in the privacy of our home. If any other heard him, he would be accused of pride and punished accordingly. Open affection towards children was an indulgence that could not be risked.

As I collected the wooden trenchers and cups from our meager table, father cleared his throat. We all paused and turned towards him in silent anticipation. He wiped his wiry beard with a napkin and met my mother's fearful gaze.

"Minister will have a longer service tomorrow at dawn than usual. Be prepared. We leave before the sun rises for Chapel. He will examine the hearts of the congregation, family by family if necessary. If there is no fault to be found, he will call for a Hunter from the Church of the Burning Heart to come to Whitscar." 

"A Hunter..." my mother whispered in horror.

It had been nearly a generation since such a step was taken. The last time a Hunter came to the village, their family had borne the brunt of the examination. That was when Hope, our father's sister, was found to be the greatest sinner that the village had known in a century.

"Yes, wife." 

Father grasped our mother's hand and squeezed it. It was an intimate motion that almost made me ashamed to see. I cut my eyes away. Married couples could not even kiss in public. If so, then the husband would surely be strapped into the Pillory for a night.

Temperence motioned towards the stairs and I followed her up into the darkness of our shared bedroom. I shuttered the windows as she lit a candle beside our little bed. Smoke wafted in this room as well. It hung over the village like a curse.

"It was enough for the blight upon the root crop," she sighed, the bed creaking as she lowered herself onto it. "Why couldn't Sodson have staved off his madness till after your wedding?"

"Do you really believe that would protect us? My marriage to Elected?"

"Elected Hawthrone is Minister's only child..."

I paced, removing my coif and unpinning my harsh bun. We bound our long hair tight behind our heads first thing in the morning before service. The heavy black strands fell past my elbows. I had grown used to perpetual headache that it gave me during the day.

"But we are the nieces of... that woman," I whispered, even though it was only the two of us. I didn't dare say her name. "Why Elected asked me to be his bride, I still cannot say. Not with that stain on us."

"It is because you are lovely, sister. Lovely and pious." 

Temperance sighed, untying the laces on her boots. Her own black hair fell in curls around her shoulders. It was more difficult for her to contain it underneath her coif and Service kerchief. She had to always make certain that it was not coming unbound for modesty's sake.

"In fact," She smirked up at me. I relaxed a little at the sight. "I cannot think of any other maid in Whitscar that tries as hard as you to be perfect."

I stiffened a little, wrapped my arms around my waist. "Well. You know why that is."

She blinked up at me, the impish grin on her full lips fading to a thoughtful frown. "Yes, Verity. We all do. Perhaps that is why Elected asked for your hand. He knows that you will never slip up."

"Because I cannot."

"No. You cannot."

I could not even hint at a sign of sin in my life because of my face. I was the exact physical replica of my father's sister, the infamous sinner of Whitscar.