The Cursed Bride

by Camille Oster

  There was nothing up here that could represent the witches, and there was nothing below, so it had to be in the bedroom. It only left one option and it was time to deal with it. No more close calls with falling stone. No more feeling like someone was watching her all the time, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

  Marching to the door, Aldine, closed it behind her. There was nothing up here for her, so she continued down and out of the house, ensuring she walked well away from the edge of the house, walking until she reached the outhouse were tools were stored.

  Enough of sitting idly by and letting this encroach on her. It was time to act.

  Searching through the machines, most of which looked fearsome with spikes and gears, she found what she was looking for along the far side of the wall. No, she would not meekly let this happen.

  Taking it, she walked back to the house and by whatever mercy, no one came across her carrying an ax back to Heinrich's bedchamber. It was empty, which was lucky, because she had no excuse in mind for what was just about to happen.

  Swinging it with all her might, it bit into the dark wood of the bedframe. The strike reverberated up her arm, even as she pulled it free and struck again. The hits left ugly splinters and she kept striking, into the carved headboard, then one of the pillars. Even the mattress and bedsheets.

  Where her strength came from, she didn't know, but she kept striking.

  "What are you doing!?" Heinrich roared from the door before he came to wrestle the ax from her hands. She refused to let go, feeling she wasn't done yet. Was it enough to destroy the talisman? It had to be the bed.

  Forcefully, he wrenched the ax from her hands.

  "It's the bed. Don't you see that?"

  He stared at her like she was completely incomprehensible, then pulled his gaze away and surveyed her damage. "You've lost your mind."

  "It's a talisman," she said, pointing at the bed. "The curse is imbued in the bed."

  "Your nerves have gotten the better of you."

  "It's not my nerves," she bit harshly. "This bed is cursed, but for some reason you refuse to see that. Perhaps because it doesn't affect you."

  "What are you talking about?" he said incredulously. "This is utter nonsense."

  "Except everyone who marries you ends up dying, and now it's trying to kill me. I see these things in my dreams, and you don't believe me. This horrid house is cursed. This bed is cursed, and all you do is accuse me of being fanciful. Did I imagine that stone a hair's breadth away from my head? Was that my imagination too?"

  "It was an accident."

  "Well, a lot of accidents seem to happen around here, and all you do is ignore it and tell me it's not happening, that what I am experiencing is all in my head. Something is trying to kill me and all you can do is drug me so I haven't even got any vestiges of defense against this. That is what I see." Everything was just flowing out of her and she was unable to hold it back.

  Heinrich remained silent and Aldine tried to calm herself. Her whole body was shaking.

  "The Tober woman said—"

  "That woman is mad."

  "—said there was a talisman close to where all the activity was happening. And this is where it happens," she said, pointing at the bed. "Break the talisman and the curse ends."

  With his hands on his hips, he stared at her. Then he softened. "Come here," he finally said, stepping closer and putting his arms around her. Aldine's body still felt like it was fighting, so it was hard to simply accept the calm embrace. It also made it hard to fight the tears. All the nervous tension she'd felt building up, released out of her and she sobbed. Hot, angry tears seeped out of her eyes and onto the soft cotton of his shirt.

  "You know I don't believe in curses, but you do," he said. "I'm sorry this has been so distressing for you."

  Softly stroking her hair, he held her.

  "I did not imagine that stone," she said.

  "No," he agreed. Surprisingly, he didn't make excuses like the wind had moved the heavy stone and ultimately toppled it just as she had been walking past. It was the first time he hadn't dismissed any of this as simply her fanciful imagination. "If it makes you feel better to destroy this bed, if you feel like it is the source of some malaise, then destroy it. It has never been my intent to make you feel uncomfortable."

  She didn't move, because it was so lovely just to be held. There had been such a distance between them, she hadn't felt anyone in this house being on her side, least of all him.

  "And I am sorry about the doctor. I honestly thought it would calm your nerves."

  "My nerves are not the issue. I don't have problems with my nerves. At least not before coming here. There is something in this house."

  "And destroying this bed will fix that?"

  "Apparently."

  "What's going on?" Ludwig said from the door. Aldine could feel hand gestures behind her. Right now, feeling so raw, she didn't want to deal with Ludwig and Heinrich sent him away.

  They stayed like that for a while longer.

  "I will build you a new bed," he finally said. "I am not much of a carver, but I can make you a new bed."

  Aldine's eyes and nose felt raw and hot with the tears she had shed, but they were drying up now. Heinrich let go of her, and went over to the bed, pulling one of the pillars until it fell away from the rest of the bed. "We can even burn it if you like."

  "I know you don't believe me," she said.

  "I don't know what to believe anymore. Whatever I do, I can't seem to fix anything. You are wrong when you say this doesn't affect me. As hard as I try to keep everything together, I can't seem to make things right. It always goes wrong—disastrously wrong. I have ignored you. I didn't mean to, but there have been some heavy blows, and perhaps when things started going sideways again, I… "

  "You distanced yourself," she finished for him.

  "I didn't mean to. I didn't intend to be cruel. It just seemed that my bad luck never ends." He took her hand in his. "For a while, it seemed like that was all in the past, those misfortunes I had the ill luck to suffer, but you became increasingly unhappy. I just want a normal, contented marriage, but forever things seem to go wrong. Maybe God has cursed me. Or witches, as you believe. At this point, I am desperate enough to believe anything. I don't want to lose you too, so if burning this bed will put an end to all this, then I'll help you do it."

  Moving closer, Aldine walked into another embrace. "I hope so," she said.

  "If it could only be that easy," he said, putting his arms around her again. "I am sorry if you ever felt that I wasn't standing by you. That was never true. I just…" he drifted off. "I just want all to be well."

  Aldine felt the barriers that had been between them dissipate. At least she hoped so. This house was a cold, harsh place without an ally.

  "Come on, then," he said, pulling away from her. "Let's build a pyre and burn this to cinder."

  "We can sleep in my room for a while," she suggested, but Heinrich was distracted by tearing one of the side boards away, forcing a crunching sound as the attachments splintered. Taking it on his shoulder, he carried it out of the room.

  This felt like hope. It felt good. They were doing this together, a statement that they both wanted a happy future together. A weight was coming off her shoulders. This was bringing them together, and she understood more of his intentions, and the worry that had driven him to distance himself.

  Grabbing one of the pillars, she lifted it. It was heavy, but she was not weak. She certainly wasn't going to meekly succumb to anyone—let alone long-dead witches.

  Chapter 24

  "THIS IS MADNESS," Ludwig stated, approaching Heinrich as he stood on the lawn and poured oil on the remnants of his bed. "That bed is centuries old. It is an heirloom of this house, of this family. It is not your place to burn it simply because your mad bride wants you to."

  "If burning this bed will serve my bride, then I will do it," Heinrich stated.

  "And what's next? What else will we have to sacr
ifice to the altar of her insanity?"

  Aldine had never heard him speak like this—certainly not this animatedly about anything. She also hadn't understood this was what he thought about her. Cordiality in everything was what he'd shown her—until now.

  "She belongs in a sanitorium. You need to send her away."

  "She didn't imagine the stone falling on her," Heinrich replied.

  "A mere happenstance, but from there she builds fanciful castles in the air. She's mad," he said, pointing sharply to his head with his forefinger. "Are we all to dance attendance to her superstitions and paranoia? Shall we burn all our furniture?"

  "Ludwig," Wilhelmina said calmingly.

  "What? You believe this? You believe we should burn our things to appease her?"

  Wilhelmina didn't utter what she truly believed.

  Everyone had been attracted by this commotion, standing around the fire that now roared up as Heinrich threw a match on the oil-soaked wood. They were all distracted by the fire for a moment.

  If the ax hadn't destroyed the talisman, then this certainly would. Aldine felt relief. Not simply because this curse was broken, but that she and Heinrich were united. Even if he didn't truly believe, the fact that he would do this for her meant a great deal.

  "Shall you sleep on the floor like animals?" Elke asked.

  "I own a timber mill. I can damned well build my wife a bed," Heinrich replied.

  Ludwig snorted with disgust. Wolfgang said nothing—only stared at the fire. He ventured no opinion. Wilhelmina remained quiet as well.

  "Keep this up and the crazy wench will probably end up burning the whole house down," Ludwig muttered.

  "Shut up!" Heinrich yelled. "That is my wife and you will show her due respect. Never forget who it is you're speaking about."

  "Boys!" Wilhelmina chided. "This is helping no one. We must all respect one another."

  Aldine pressed her lips together, because respect wasn't always a virtue Wilhelmina prescribed to—other than with her two sons. As for the rest of them, they all suffered from her disdain at times. Especially Wolfgang.

  "Now if we are done with this," Wilhelmina said sharply, “our supper is getting cold. I for one, have had enough of peculiarities today." Her voice broke a little. It had been a strenuous day for all of them.

  With a sharp turn, Wilhelmina marched back to the house, her back ramrod straight. Ludwig followed, taking Elke along with him.

  Wolfgang stayed for a moment, his attention still captured by the fire. "It was a ridiculous and ugly bed anyway," he finally said before stepping away and walking into the darkness.

  "He's not much for ornateness," Heinrich said. He always defended Wolfgang, no matter how uncouth he spoke. Aldine expected that Heinrich showed loyalty specifically because Wolfgang was so thorny. He was a kind and loyal brother. "He didn't mean it." Heinrich said, looking at her.

  "About the bed?"

  "Ludwig. He just…"

  Heinrich defended him too—was always the peacemaker in the family. A role that was probably necessary to hold them all together. Aldine had never thought about it before, and she was proud of him for it.

  "Overwrought?" she offered a little sarcastically.

  Heinrich smiled. "Yes, that too."

  "It's been a trying day for everyone."

  Walking over, he leant down to kiss her and she smiled as she received it. It felt like they were a team now, husband and wife. The kiss was sweet and light.

  "Come, let's eat," he finally said when they broke apart. Taking her hand, he led her back to the house.

  Weber was serving by the time they walked into the dining room. Everyone was tense and uncomfortable that night, except Aldine. Tonight, she had her husband fully on her side, and that was the most wonderful feeling in the world. They held hands all the way to the point where they sat down. Supper was a quick affair, and afterward, when the others were going to the salon for drinks, Aldine excused herself, saying she needed to go make preparations. They were moving from his bedroom to hers, after all.

  The fire had not been lit in his room as the cooler evening air descended. It seemed the servants had anticipated the move. Heinrich's room was in darkness and it looked empty and forlorn without the bed.

  Grabbing a lantern, Aldine walked in. The servants had moved Heinrich's toiletries as well, but the ax was still there, standing upright against the wall.

  This room had been the center of her fears and hopes. Now she only felt hope. This had been a decisive move and they had won. The bed was destroyed and the witches' power dealt to.

  Walking over to the window, she saw her own reflection in the glass of the dark windows before closing the shutters. She wasn't sure why she did it, but it felt right. Perhaps they would vacate this room for a while. Changing rooms felt a little like a new start and that pleased her.

  With the shutters secure, she walked back toward the door, but stopped. Hairs rose along the back of her neck, because she felt a current of heat. Nothing near what she felt during the nights when she woke, but there was a distinct wave of heat. She knew what it felt like—like a fire turning in the wind, but there was neither wind nor fire. How could that be? The bed was destroyed.

  Lifting the lantern, she searched. There was nothing on the floor. Nothing that could have fallen from the bed. No remnants she could see. It had all been burnt, every last inch of it.

  As the shadows of her lantern shifted, they fell on the painting. Aldine moved closer to the familiar scene of people sitting in a hall, or a courtroom. She'd looked at this painting countless times. Spotting something, she looked closer, bringing the lantern up to the canvas.

  Through the window of the hall in the painting, she saw a pyre with a woman burning. It was only small, drawn with clumsy strokes. It had never been there before tonight. "No, you don't," Aldine said harshly and turned back for the ax.

  Returning with the blade, she cut through the canvas where the pyre was, the material curling with the release of tension. Dropping the ax, she tore the rest of the canvas, ripping it out of the frame. She even held pieces of it to the flame in her lantern.

  If it had been the painting all along or if the witches' curse had jumped from the bed to the painting, she didn't know, but she wasn't going to let them. Even the frame she took down and broke, before opening the shutters and the window and throwing the pieces into the darkness.

  Witches were not going to bother this house again, even if she had to vigilantly guard against giving them entry into the house again. It didn't matter if Heinrich didn't truly believe her—or anyone else for that matter. Those hags would not come into this house again. If she had to become the expert in fighting witches, she would.

  Standing with her arms crossed, she looked out the window. It occurred to her that she had become the witch hunter in the house of witch hunters. Even so, she could not condone what had been done to these women back in those days, but she was not letting their curse poison the present, or the future—poison their children.

  Closing the shutters firmly, she turned her back and walked out the door, shutting the door behind her. Putting the lantern on the hall table, she walked downstairs, feeling very calm and even empowered. She had won this fight and now she was going to have a nice evening with her husband.

  Perhaps now they could build the bond between them that had been interrupted with all this. This new sense of purpose and empowerment also left her feeling better able to deal with Heinrich's family—and all their peculiarities. Saying that, she was still angry with Ludwig for outright calling her mad. Some true colors had been revealed tonight and although she might forgive, she wasn't sure she would forget.

  Chapter 25

  IT WAS THE FIRST TRULY peaceful night Aldine had had in this house, waking in her room with the sun gently shining in. Heinrich was dressing and getting ready for the day, and she sat up in bed and simply watched him.

  "What?" he asked, looking over at her as he pulled on his jacket.

&nbs
p; "Nothing," she said with a smile.

  "Do not tempt me."

  She hadn't been aware that she was. For once she was actually wearing her nightgown in the morning, not been forced to peel it off sometime during the night. "Where will you go today?"

  "The mill," he said. "We are harvesting at the moment. Wolfgang will set off for Munich in the afternoon with a consignment of lumber."

  "Then I wish him an uneventful journey."

  With a nod, he left the room and quietly closed the door behind him. It was strange having him in her room, where he normally never went. It made her a little self-conscious of her things.

  Anna came shortly after he left and lit the fire, which crackled gently. The mornings were still a little chilly, even as the days warmed nicely.

  As soon as the worst of the chill was gone, Aldine rose and dressed with Anna's help. Breakfast was soon to be served and she walked downstairs as it started.

  Wilhelmina and Elke were both sitting in the dining room, both quiet as she entered. Well, the peace she had found between herself and her husband didn't extend to her in-laws, who seemed very uncomfortable in her presence. "Good morning," she said brightly.

  "Yes," Wilhelmina said and Elke simply stopped chewing and watched the scene. "Excuse me," the older woman uttered and walked from the room.

  "It was certainly an interesting evening last night, wasn't it?" Elke said, continuing to eat. She waited for a response, but Aldine couldn't really think of anything to say as her husband had blatantly accused her of being mad. What did one say to such a thing? "Ludwig was a little disturbed by the scene, I think."

  "I suppose it was quite a scene," Aldine admitted.

  "Can't say I understand what happened, but you seem quite serene today."

  "A good night's sleep is always refreshing." If Elke understood the subtext, Aldine didn't know, but it had been a badly needed night of sleep.