Pyre - A Novelette Featuring the Avebury Witches

Chapter 2

Skirts bunched in sweaty fists, Rosy opened the garden gate she had left unlocked on her way in. She was still surrounded by walls, but now there was soil under her feet, the whisper of grass, hazel branches and leaves beckoning for her to join their dappled shade. She jumped over ornamental squares of boxwood framing the lushness of grass and dove into the soothing embrace of the trees. Only then did she stop, her chest still heaving, her lungs sucking air with a little squealing sound on each breath she took.

She had found shelter not a minute too late.

From the alleyway came a group of men, festively clad in black, the buckles on their hats gleaming in the sunshine, their collars as white as the clouds above. Had they not been at the burning? Or were the witch hunters a race apart, not to be touched by the grime and dirt caused by their evil handiwork?

A mewling sound escaped Rosy's lips, and she caught her breath. But they were not close enough to hear her. Their voices, however, rang across, like hammers hitting metal fetters.

"Master Grimaldus, there's nobody here."

"I can see that for myself, Master Ignatius. But I'm telling you, there was that young woman, she ran away after the witch had died. Into that alley. I saw her. That's highly suspicious, don't you think?"

A third man spoke, his face hidden by the bushy growth of a black beard. "Master Grimaldus, we have humoured your instincts, but other than a bit of ash, I see no witch." He shook out his sleeve in a gesture of distaste, and he and his companions erupted with laughter.

Back in the shadows, hidden by the trees, Rosy balled her fists. Not that there was anything she could do.

"Hear, hear Master Lentulus, well spoken," Ignatius said. "Methinks, there might have well been a girl, but she must have slipped into one of the houses. And those open only with keys, not with magic. So, nothing to worry about. Anyway, maidens are such silly creatures. One never knows what they will do from one moment to the next."

Sparks shot from the buckles of the hats as the other men nodded their agreement and then withdrew back into the alleyway they had come from.

Rosy released breath she had not realised she was holding and air shot from her lungs in a painful rush. Nobody heard her; apart from the distant noise of the crowd and the measured pacing of a guard on the wall the place was still deserted. But not for much longer. Soon, the citizens would return, to their houses, to the well.

In and out of the trees she wove, as light as a dandelion seed, towards the old oak tree where the outer gate waited for her. Once it had been part of a lovers tryst. Now it stood between her and the orchard outside. She had not dared to leave it unlocked, somebody might have noticed.

A few more steps, and there she was, slotted the key into the lock, turned it and slowly pushed open the obstacle so it wouldn't creak. She slipped through and closed the gate from the other side, then ducked behind the hawthorn bushes. Her skirt snagged on one of the spikes, but it slipped off the next second as if the plant was apologising for having trapped her.

Moving along with bent knees she reached the first apple tree, then straightened. Now she could walk more freely— movement on her right made the bushes rustle, as a tall man rose from behind the shrubbery.

Rosy's heart fisted.

"I knew it was you. Knew you would come today as soon as they announced the burning." Bill pushed the twigs aside and stepped towards her. He looked like a farm hand, wearing no hat on his blond curls, nothing but an open shirt and leather riding breeches. To top it all, he wore no stockings in his flat shoes.