Her Most Grievous Sin

The Sins of the Sodson Family

Our week was divided into five days, each with their own virtue that we must meditate on while completing our chores. Fittingly, the day after the fire was Penitence. Minister gathered us like lost sheep before the dawn. Sin could so easily creep into our minds, words, and actions. Vigilance was of the utmost importance and it was best to begin early.

With the ghostly aura of smoke lingering over Whitscar, it seemed especially important to mind one's step as our family trudged through the gray streets with the other faithful towards Chapel.

The Holy House was silent, the altar at the front of the sanctuary lit only by two candles atop the unpainted pulpit. Like our homes, the House was built from the black wood of Kirksor that grew beyond the fields. I knelt before our family's bench on the women's side of the congregation. The community worshipped separately, yet apart. Men and boys were on the right, divided from the women on the left. It kept the temptation of evil thoughts at bay. Even married couples could be prone to attacks of lust. I had never even seen my mother and father kiss.

Temperance squeezed my hand. I glanced over at her. She raised her black eyebrows, signaling to a few rows ahead. I squinted in the dark. The bench where Goodwife Sodson and her only child Faith was empty. Elias was not at his usual spot on the other side of the sanctuary.

I drew a slow breath through my nose and focused on my own bearing. It was important to appear pious yet humble. Reverent yet self controlled. It was an exhausting balancing act, but one that I had perfected over the years. 

A walking cane cracked against the floorboards from behind us. I didn't dare look over my shoulder, but kept my head bowed in humility. Shapes moved down the aisle beside me. They were fuzzy past my drooping head kerchief in my peripheral. 

Minister's cane struck the floor with every step. On his right arm was Elected, tall and strong beside his stooped father. When Minister finally returned to the earth, his son would take his place as Minister. And I would become Goodwife Hawthrone. Though I had long accepted that fate, I didn't enjoy dwelling upon it.

Minister took his place behind the pulpit. Sharp, black eyes scanned the congregation and it appeared that he stood straighter. His cane was forgotten. Only the fire in his countenance, holy and unmatched, shone out through the gloom.

"Divine Spirit that binds us to our sinful flesh, we have come to ask your guidance and pardon," he spoke, lifting feeble hands that took on new strength. "We beg forgiveness for our sins, our grievous sins."

"Forgiveness, we beg forgiveness," the congregation spoke in unison.

I clenched my fist, my nails digging into my palms, as I pressed my hand against my heart three times in the penitent gesture. I spoke with utter conviction yet without arrogance. I focused on appearing as the picture of piety to the outside, my spirit as pure as rainwater. 

"We beg for forgiveness for our sister and brother, Elias Sodson and Goodwife Sodson," he continued, the names of the sinners echoing through the cavernous room. "For they have been found wanting, stained by their sin. And thus we have been stained as well."

"Forgiveness, forgiveness," we murmured, heads bowed.

Minister drew a handkerchief from the pocket of his dour, black coat and dabbed his eyes. "It pains me to punish any one of you. You are my children. I have been charged with the keeping of your souls. But pain in the mortal flesh, to kill the worldly feminine half of the soul, is the only way to lift our divine masculine half to eternity. That we may remain pure. And find forgiveness."

"Forgiveness."

"You may sit, my children," Minister lowered a hand, inviting us to rise from our knees.

Temperence and I did so smoothly, our skirts never shifting to expose a scandalous ankle and our hands folded before us. I tucked my chin to my chest. The chapel doors creaked open and I shuddered at the padding of bare feet coming down the aisle. 

Goodwife Sodson and her daughter Faith, a girl the same age as Temperence, shuffled down the aisle in their linen shifts. Their heads were bare and their red hair draped over their trembling shoulders. They were led by three of the Minister's Elders, chosen from among the most devout men of the congregation.

"Elias Sodson will spend a fortnight in the pillory at the center of town," Minister announced. "For his sins of fear and faithlessness, he has brought near ruin on Whitscar. His wife had confessed to the sin of covetousness, wishing for more food for their table, and faithlessness in not believing that it will be provided in time. The daughter, like most girls her age that are more prone to sin than any other of the congregation, is prideful of her hair."

Elected climbed the two steps to the pulpit and offered Minister his arm. His father hobbled over to the two women. Goodwife Sodson's face was tearstained, her mouth open in silent sobs. Faith Sodson's eyes were blank as she stared over our heads, her jaw tight with grief. 

One of the elders handed Minister a pair of gleaming shears, reserved for the sheep. Minister gently lifted a strand of Goodwife Sodson's fading red hair and snipped it off at the shoulder, letting it fall to the floor. Then he did the same to Faith, but yanked her head forward as he did so. 

"In order to purify them from these sins, they shall be shorn before you. Like sheep in season, when they are stripped of their wool, they shall become clean again." Minister handed the shears to the elder. "I know that some of you have heard that I will be calling for a Hunter from the Burning-Heart. As the Sodson family have come forward and confessed their sins, I do not see that as necessary. But these are troubling times, my children. Stay vigilant. Your souls are in dire risk here in the village of Whitscar. I fear that we are entering a dark season. If anything else should happen, I must summon a Hunter here at once, for the sake of us all."

Minister gave a brusque nod, the downy white curls on his shoulders brushing the midnight fabric. Elected led his father out and left us sitting on our benches. Temperence's body tensed beside me. I longed to grab her hand in mine, but feared it would be seen as a sin of fear. Or worse, sympathy for the sinners standing before the congregation.

The metallic snip of the shears echoed through the Holy House. We sat in silence and watched as Goodwife Sodson and her daughter were shorn. Red curls scattered the black floor like leaves in autumn.

A razor was produced. Their scalps were nicked bloody as they scraped every hint of hair from their heads.

The Sodson women were led, bald but saved, out the doors. We remained behind for a time.

"Forgive us, forgive us our grievous sins," the congregration murmured. "Forgive us."

We chanted until the town bell in the square rang twice, announcing the rising of the sun. As we hurried home through the streets of Whitscar, I averted my eyes from the broken figure of the man locked into the Pillory. His head hung, the wooden brace locked around his neck and wrists, where he stood on a block by the town bell.

In the safety of our home, father closed the kitchen door and blinked at our drawn faces. "Elias will not survive the week."

"But his soul will be saved," mother breathed, wringing her hands.

"Yes, it will. Praise for that mercy," father conceded, dropping his bearded chin. "We have indeed been shown mercy this morning."