The Island of Mists

by Wendy Nelson-Sinclair

  ************

  During the Markets, Brother Eadhbert took advantage of Archard’s absence and planted himself near Archard’s stall. Each time, he stared at me with his malevolent gaze, silently whispering a prayer to ‘protect’ the souls of his flock against my wickedness.

  “Witch!” He hissed frequently. Even though I casually ignored him, everyone else called him out for his cruel and unfair behavior towards me. “God will see you burn for your offensiveness.” He said many times over with the hopes that it would force a reaction from me. Determined to beat him at his game, I ignored him still and took satisfaction each time his anger grew with each denial.

  “You should mind yourself,” Brother Paul would remind his peer, as did a few of the other monks that I befriended. No part of their admonishment did anything to cease Eadhbert’s ire. Day after day during the Faires, Eadhbert did his best to intimidate me. I continued to ignore him until it became impossible to do so.

  ************

  The day when life directed me down another course came softly and calmly. Daily life within the town walls went on as normal. The blacksmiths worked at their forges. Bakers made bread inside their ovens. Weavers worked fastidiously at their looms, and I sat inside Archard’s home, grinding lavender flowers. Three weeks prior, Archard surprised Daffyd and Sibbe by asking them to come to live at his home, after theirs had been struck by lightning during a severe storm and had burned to the ground.

  “I have more room than I need and with just Aethyln and Eadlin, I suffer from a severe lack of adult conversation. And my girls need to be part of a family again.” Archard said as we gathered around his table for Christmastide. A roast goose lay in the table’s center, roasted to a golden brown, its flesh softened by freshly churned butter and seasoned with vibrant herbs that I had brought from my garden. At first, both Sibbe and Daffyd were flabbergasted at his offer. They had been living in one of the small stables on the Church grounds until their house was repaired. Their situation was less than ideal but neither of my friends complained. Instead, they made do until they were favored with fortune again. I remained quiet, listening as Archard made his argument. Such an offer was not foreign to me. Many people on the Island lived in communal homes. Mostly they were elderly, unmarried, or children who had been orphaned. No matter who they might be, it wasn’t uncommon for ‘families’ to be created out of a pack of strangers. Daffyd and Sibbe thanked Archard for his offer but told him that they needed time to discuss his proposition. It hadn’t taken long for them to make up their minds because they were moved in within three days’ time since the offer was first put forth. Sibbe made the kitchen her own and reorganized the interior of Archard’s home to make it more functional and to provide them with more storage. Daffyd saw to all repairs that needed to be done. The children were happy, glad to be part of a large family.

  The sun was just starting to inch towards the setting horizon as Sibbe and I sat together, peeling carrots, snapping beans, and chatting about setting up a garden when a loud voice boomed from outside, catching both of our attention. Putting our work momentarily aside, Sibbe and I both wiped our hands and headed out to see what was happening. The sun warmed the street as I stepped across the threshold. Several people had gathered in the center of the road, clustered up tightly, their attention focused towards the end of the street. From where I stood, I could see a bulky man standing a distance away.

  “Everyone!” Auden Builder shouted from the center of the road. “Everyone, news from the Abbey! Prior Michael has died!” An uproar cried out as everyone came to a halt and processed the sorrowful news. A pang of sadness inserted itself into my heart as I thought of the kind, conscientious man who had always treated me with respect and kindness.

  Suddenly, my hand went to my throat, as a burning sensation coursed down its length and settled deep within my lungs. Poisoned. I thought to myself. Prior Michael’s death wasn’t a natural one. It had been intentional and Eadhbert was the culprit. I couldn’t, of course, tell anyone, lest I be accused as a witch. A witchcraft hysteria had taken hold during the last Faire, resulting in a shepherd’s wife being burned as Eadhbert stood before her, cursing her soul to hell. Refusing to watch her burn and helpless to save her, I walked from the pyre, knowing that the poor woman’s death hadn’t come from her dealings with the Devil. Her mistake had been taking Eadhbert to her bed and laughing at him when he couldn’t rise to the occasion. The smell of smoke and burning flesh filled my nose and rested upon my tongue as I made my way to Archard’s house.

  I sat in front of the hearth, staring into the flames as a chill raced down the length of my spine. I did not want that to happen to me. I knew that if Eadhbert ever got an inkling of my abilities, I would be the next to roast. To protect myself, to shield my reputation, and to safeguard my livelihood, I kept quiet.

  “Yvaine?” Sibbe’s voice caught my attention. I turned to find her watching me. It was then that I realized my hand still laid against my throat. “Are you all right?” She asked, giving voice to her concern.

  “I am fine,” I responded, trying to reassure her. “I am just saddened. Prior Michael was very fit for his age, but I guess God takes us all in his own time.” I added the last part for Sibbe’s sake. As a deep believer of the Christian faith, I knew the words would help bring her comfort upon hearing the tragic news.

  ************

  For the next three days, the town was a flurry of remorse, sympathy, and gossip. At noon on the third day, Archard surged into the house, red-faced and flustered. His body held all the tension and angst that plagued him.

  “Archard? Is everything all right? You look done in. Can I get you something to drink?” I asked him, instantly jumping towards the worktable he had set up for me.

  “No,” He thanked me, his anxious demeanor easing briefly before it stoked and flamed again. “News has come from the Abbey,” Sibbe, her children, Eadlin and I listened as he broke the news of what had just transpired. “Eadhbert has been elected Prior.” His bitter voice spat out the words. “How he managed to finagle himself into the position, I will never know. Everyone expected Brother Paul to be named but somehow the vote went to Eadhbert. God help us all. The man will be the ruination of this fine town.” Archard added, meaning every word.

  A cold shiver ran through me as I realized the depth that this carried for my future. Eadhbert was a dangerous man. A man who now possessed some power and who was dead set in seeing me pay for the egregious sin of being an outsider. I knew that if given the chance, Eadhbert would see me dead. Armed with that knowledge, I decided that I would leave town for good, only visiting my friends during the markets and faires. My days of trading were soon to be at an end. Due to the threat that Eadhbert posed, I would have to resume trading along the pathway. The market brought ten-times as much money but the risk to my life was worth the reduced monetary income.

  The following morning, I left town and went back to my home in the hills. Going back seemed strange and foreign, even though I had lived there for many years. My cave was somewhat neglected due to my frequent absences. Once I arrived, I began to put my life here back together, cleaning, sweeping, and gathering supplies that I knew that I would soon need. It took nearly a week for me to gather up enough to make a good starting point. With that all set and put to order, I made the trip back to town. One last chance to put a fair amount of money in my pocket to save for any possible calamities that might be in my future.

  ELEVEN

  As I walked through the town gates, the last thing I expected was to be seized by a group of monks. The moment my foot crossed the boundary, they rushed towards me, grabbed hold of my arms, and slipped a burlap sack over my head. I kicked and screamed as they dragged me to an unknown location. The monks threatened me with condemnations while they viciously pinched me and dug their sharp fingernails into my skin. My knees tore open as they scraped against the ground as the monks dragged me behind them.

  When they finally stopped, I was thrown into a
dark, damp, and fetid place that reeked of animal excrement. I crashed against a hard, stone wall before I heard the shuffle of feet exiting what was now my prison. Stunned, I lied in darkness. The monks pinned me to the dirty floor as they bound my hands and feet with a length of coarse, cutting rope. The ropes dug into my skin, irritating the flesh and rubbing it raw. My knees stung and tickled from the trails of blood that flowed from them. Rats squeaked as they skittered across the floor, crawling over and nipping me as they scattered about. Dirty hay was strewn about, assaulting my nose with the ripe smell of old manure, making it near impossible to breathe. I was in a nightmare and panic was itching to overtake me. I tried not to think of the memories that threatened to seize upon me as I lay there on the cold, hard floor. Whiffs of Cal’s body aura lingered close by, alerting me that Eadhbert was all too near.

  “Go away, monster,” I whispered to the darkness, willing Cal’s ghost to fade back into the shadows from where it came.

  “Be silent, whore of Satan! You shall not speak to the Holy enemy before a man of God.” Prior Eadhbert’s surprisingly calm voice sounded suddenly, shattering the silence. I couldn’t help but bark with laughter.

  “A man of God?” I said, still blinded by the covering over my head. The darkness only amplified the putrid scent that emanated off him. The same putrid scent as Cal. “Ask yourself, would a man of God burn a woman alive all because she laughed at his inability to become aroused? What man of God would poison his superior, just so he could assume his position? You are no man of God. You are a man who is faithful to his own greed, vanity, and jealousy. A murderer masking as a savior.” I barked again. Suddenly, something heavy struck me across the face, sending my mind reeling as I tried to weather the surge of pain.

  “You will hold your blasphemous tongue!” Eadhbert hissed, reminding me of a coiled serpent ready to attack. “You will not speak ill of me! Remember your place, whore! You are a woman, I am a man. Men have dominion over women. When we tell you to be silent, you will obey!” No doubt he made the sign of the cross. A gesture he made frequently at any point on any given day.

  “Yet you continue to make no denials of your sins,” I managed to say as my lip swelled and started to affect my speech. “I know that you killed Prior Michael! And I know it was poison!” I spat as he struggled to calm his furious breath. “I have no proof, but I know you did it just the same. And if your God is just, he will punish you for it.”

  “I will not let Satan tempt me through your words, witch.” Feet tread across the floor and suddenly, low light gave way to the darkness as the bag was ripped off my head. Eadhbert loomed over me, dressed in his robe, holding on to the cross that he was never without. “But there is hope for you. Before you burn, I can save your soul.” He whispered, his almost-black eyes drinking me in. I met his gaze and immediately swallowed down my revulsion. “The touch of God can bring you into righteousness. To feel the long, exacting rod of God, you will know that your soul has been saved, even if your body remains corrupt.

  To my disgust, Eadhbert was sexually excited. The bulge of his erect penis protruded through his robe. Nauseatingly, he dropped to his knees with a muted thud. His wart-covered hands groped and prodded as he announced what he intended to do. “Before God can perform his miracle, I must check you for Satan’s marks.” His thick, dry-cracked lips curled in an aberration of a smile.

  “That is something that you must do in front of witnesses. That is the law.” I challenged him, knowing the procedure from what Sibbe had previously described. In my ignorance, I thought the challenge would shame him into abandoning the act. Instead, Eadhbert scoffed and seized the front of my dress with both of his hands. With a hard, solid tug, he ripped it apart, halving it in a jagged tear that exposed the valley between my breasts. As he knelt beside me, he stared with open, uninhibited desire as the fabric fell away and exposed a rosy areola. “Such beauty corrupted by Satan,” He said softly as his rough hand lay siege over the rounded peak. “Such beauty that can only be repented by giving itself to God. The staff of God will now begin to cleanse your soul” I watched as Eadhbert’s other hand slipped down towards the hem of his robe.

  Refusing to be victimized once again, I kicked Eadhbert hard in the crotch, sending him flailing backward. He crashed against the wall, shouting obscenities while clutching at his wounded genitals. “You, fucking bitch!” He screamed as he tried to scramble to his feet but failed, falling onto his back once more. “I will see you dance amongst the flames. You will die and I will eat your ashes when this is all over.” Eadhbert somehow managed to right himself and pointed his long, crooked finger at me. “Mark my words. By sunset tomorrow, you will be roasting at the feet of Satan in Hell.” With that, he left, and I was alone once again.

  Revulsion built at my throat as I realized the driving force behind Eadhbert’s hatred of me: desire. It was startingly clear that Eadhbert was sexually attracted to me and because of his vows, he was forbidden to act upon it within the eyes of the Church. What stoked his ire further was the fact that I hated him and was disgusted by him. That hadn’t stopped him from thinking that he could rape me in the shadow of this foul holding cell. Without the watchful eyes of the former prior and the true men of God that lived and worked nearby, Eadhbert tried to grasp what power he could. Judging by his actions, it was obvious that he had convinced himself that he was as powerful as the God he claimed to worship and because of that, I would submit. He falsely believed that I would willingly allow him to assault me in the name of God. What he hadn’t counted on was that I would fight back. That I was someone who would never allow another to touch her without permission again.

  My heart pounded inside my chest. I could feel its beat at the base of my throat and hear it pound in my ears. Now that I was free from my blindfold, I cast my eyes about my prison. Immediately, I recognized the inside of the Abbey’s former larder. Due to a leaky roof and unstable walls, the monks had ceased using it for storage and allowed the town to turn it into a jail, a place where they kept the thieves and other criminals until they could be tried for their crimes. All it would take was one swift, forceful breath of wind to topple it down to a heap of stone. I let out a long, slow breath as I tried to calm myself from the predicament that I was in. Approximately an hour later, the door opened again, and another woman was tossed inside, just as roughly and rudely as I had been. She hit the floor, sobbing, frightened and angry.

  “It is all right. There is no need to cry,” I said, trying in vain to reassure her. “There is still time for us to come up with a way to get out of here.” The woman stopped suddenly in mid-wail. She sniffed and brought her bound arm up to her nose. Giving it a brief rub, she immediately settled as much as one could in this circumstance and turned her attention towards me.

  “You’re the healer woman that makes my husband’s tea.” She said, immediately recognizing me. “You’re the one that showed me kindness when he was beating me. It’s you that I have to thank for my freedom.” Her eyes grew damp in the fading light. “My husband died yesterday morning. A heart attack in our bed just after sunrise. He suffered as he lay there. Heaven have mercy on me, I did nothing as I watched him die.” She admitted without emotion.

  “If it was a heart attack, there is little that you could do.” I tried to dispel the sudden heaviness in the air caused by her admission. “The only thing to be done is to pray for his soul.”

  “He deserves no prayer. He deserves to burn in Hell,” The wife spat. Her hatred for her now-dead husband radiated off her in waves. “Every day he beat me. Every day I feared that he wouldn’t stop until he killed me. He used to say that I would be the first to die but he was wrong. Now he’s the one suffering in Hell’s flames and I am still here, spared, but falsely accused by that rat, Prior Eadhbert.”

  “Accused of what?” I asked her.

  “Witchcraft.” She said plainly and without fear.

  “That makes two of us,” I said in return.

  “That’s not the worst of it,
” She swallowed before continuing. “Eadhbert is holding a witch burning tomorrow to try to scare the townspeople into submission. When the monks came yesterday morning to take my husband to bury him, I was accused of poisoning him. Prior Eadhbert himself laid the accusation against me, using the valerian tea that you gave me as ‘proof’ that my husband had been poisoned.”

  I shivered with hatred and for the first time, I was afraid. Seizing upon the short span of time between the husbands’ death and my return to town, Eadhbert found a way to put an end to his temptation once and for all.

  “I suppose that he means to burn us together. He’s been itching for a witch burning ever since Prior Michael was murdered.” The wife’s words shocked me.

  “You believe that Prior Michael was murdered?” I was astonished that she would give my knowledge voice.

  “I know it as well as I know my own name. My brother, the priest known as Brother Thomas, tended to Prior Michael’s body after he died. He told me that he suspected that his death wasn’t natural. That he’d been poisoned because Prior’s lips smelled of belladonna.” Her eyes narrowed as she whispered the name of one of the most poisonous substances I knew. “It was what our mother poisoned our father with when he turned his stern hand to us. He beat her, you see. Like my husband. When my father turned his fists to my brother, Mama poisoned his food while we worked outside. Eadhbert is a monster. He reminds me of my father. His brain is sick and corrupt. I would swear he’s the Devil himself with that black heart and dour outlook towards everything.”

  “He is a weak, pathetic little man who hates women. Especially strong ones.” I cast a glance over to the wife, who gave me a half-smile in return. “He’s drunk with power and believes that God speaks through him.”

  “You don’t know how right you are. I just don’t understand why he’s accused me of being a witch,” The wife said, showing her confusion about her present circumstances.