The Green Witch

Chapter Five

     Tala thought about Dougal for the rest of the day as she finished sewing up her shirt, pricking her finger several times in the process. She thought about him as she made her evening meal of bread and soup and she was still thinking about him as she went to bed. She tried to force her mind to think about something else, but every time her attention slipped she found herself imagining the two of them living as man and wife. She would be helping him work his farm under the friendly gaze of Dougal's father while two or three fine, handsome children played nearby, their shouts of happiness filling the air like birdsong.

     It wasn't fair! she cried internally as she lay in her bed, her fingers tightening to claws as they clutched at the pillow. Other women got to marry and have children. Why couldn't she? Damn Roderick, the King whose greed and paranoia had doomed the green witches. Damn all the people who'd been so ready to believe the lies he told. There'd always been people who'd envied and feared the power of the witches, of course, but the majority had accepted them, on the surface at least.

     Had there been a reservoir of hatred there all along? Not given voice in case it was denounced by their neighbours? Had everyone only been waiting for the reassurance that others shared their feelings before speaking out? King Roderick's voice of authority had been the spark that lit the fire. A fire that had swept the Kingdom like an inferno. People had wanted to gain favour with the King by agreeing with him, and once people heard Knights and magistrates denouncing the witches, once they realised they weren't alone in their prejudice and bigotry, their fear of speaking out had vanished. Suddenly it was the sane, reasonable people who were in the minority, and they were shouted to silence until anyone who still opposed the pogrom were afraid to say so in case they met the same fate as the witches. The tyranny of the majority was too strong to oppose.

     Tala was still thinking about Dougal as she awoke and went through her morning routines. It was a Tuesday and she was expected in town to teach the children again. What if Dougal was there? What if he saw her? She thought about staying home instead. When someone came to ask why she hadn't come she would say she'd felt unwell.

     She got a grip on herself angrily. All you did was turn down an invitation to a dance, she told herself. Stop acting like you killed his cat or something. If you see him in town you'll wave at him and smile and he'll wave back and you'll be friends. And he'll go to the dance with someone else and have a great time. He'll probably marry her and take her back to his farm and he'll forget all about you. It didn't help, though. If she did see him she knew it would he awkward and difficult and all she'd be able to do was try to brazen it out. Try to act as though there was nothing wrong.

     <Why are you sad, mummy?> asked the mice as she put on her coat and shoes. They gathered round her and stared up with their glittering black eyes, unable to understand the reason for the torment she was transmitting without realising it. <Don't be sad. Please don't be sad.>

     Tala smiled as she reached down to stroke their silky-soft fur. <How can I be sad with all my friends gathered around me?> she asked. <Thank you for being my friends.>

     <Always friends,> the mice replied. <Always friends! You're our mummy. You keep the monsters away.>

     <Always,> she promised. <I'll always keep the monsters away. You're safe here, I promise.>

     But who'll keep me safe? she wondered as she went to the pantry and pulled out a handful of the ripe ears of corn she'd surreptitiously gathered from farmer Willow's field a couple of weeks earlier. She thought about King Abulard, who was by all accounts every bit as petty and vindictive as his father had been. She thought about the Knights of Vell as she placed the ears of corn on the floor. The Knights, named after their first Captain, Harold Vell, who patrolled the Kingdom searching for witches and who came to Ellford every few months, asking questions and acting in a generally obnoxious manner. She thought about the stocks and the pile of stones.