The Island of Mists

by Wendy Nelson-Sinclair

  “Eadhbert knows that you’re my customer and the death of your husband came at a time that he could use to his advantage.” I moved to explain. “It’s all to do with me. Eadhbert is hellbent on seeing me burn because he desires me, and he thinks that with me dead, the desire will go away.”

  “It will just transfer to the next unfortunate person.” The wife answered. She understood exactly what I was saying. “I’ve even seen him with Archard Merchant’s oldest daughter, Aethyln.” My eyes widened with surprise as the wife’s admission caught me off guard. I looked at her, mouth open and eyes reflective of the shock I was experienced.

  “Oh, yes,” The wife scoffed. “That young bitch goes to him all the time, whispering false secrets about the people she doesn’t like. Before Prior Eadhbert came here, she constantly tattled to the other monks about ‘seeing specter’s’ and watching otherwise good women ‘consort’ with the Devil.” A surge of anger rose within me. I had to bite my lip to stop howling with rage.

  “She’s got to be the reason why I’m here.” I hated to admit but knew it to be inherently true.

  “And me. Just the other day, I scolded her after I caught her and the Woolers’ boy doing more than snogging behind the pub. She told me that I would pay for tattling, and it looks like she was right. It’s not fitting for a girl of fourteen to allow a boy to touch her in that manner. His hands were up her skirts and he had her moaning. Moaning. At her age! It was absolutely disgusting. No girl that age should have carnal knowledge.” The wife spat as she recalled what she had seen.

  A second wave of anger surged through me. I was certain that Archard’s daughter was responsible for my imprisonment. Aethelyn detested me. It was no secret and she made no attempt to hide it. She blamed me for her mother’s death, even though her father tried to tell her to the contrary. She confused mercy and kindness with evil and malice.

  “The witch killed my mother!” Aethelyn screamed just two weeks ago after her father called her out for her rude behavior while we were all gathered for dinner. Archard slammed the flat of his hand down upon the surface of the table and ordered her to her room. Aethelyn, armed with a boldness that few possessed, picked up her father’s wine cup and threw it in my face.

  “I will make you pay for ruining my family!” She shouted before flying up the stairs and slamming her door shut. Archard moved to follow her. His beet-colored face glowed with rage and I feared that he might lose control of himself. I begged him to let her be, explaining that her grief was the reason for her acting in such a way. It took several moments for Archard to calm down enough to retake his seat. While we waited for him to slow to a simmer, Sibbe had handed me a towel to dry off. We finished our meal in reasonable silence with only Archard occasionally saying, “I’m sorry”.

  What was worse, Aethyln was more than aware of her father’s increasing affection for me. I chose to ignore it at first. It was Sibbe who had brought it to my attention, saying that I could not find a better husband if I tried. The thought of marrying Archard left a bitterness in my mouth. It wasn’t that I disliked him—no, I liked Archard. He was a generous and kind man, and most of all, he was my friend. Despite all of that, I didn’t love him. I held to the belief that if I were to ever marry, it would be to someone that I loved. For me to take a marriage vow, I had to be in love. Sibbe, the keen aware person that she was, suspected much and often counseled me that love often grew out of marriage and that I should consider myself fortunate. Each time she brought it up, I refused to argue, choosing to let it fall by the wayside rather than let it become a bone of contention. Aethyln, as young as she was, could not distinguish the difference. In her eyes, her father’s attraction to me was my fault. A result of some spell that I cast over him, rather than a heartsick man yearning for someone to love. Her malice sent her to Eadhbert, and the corrupt priest used her lies to his advantage.

  “I just hope that you figure a way out of here before they come back.” The wife said before falling silent.

  ************

  The two of us spoke no more that night. As the night hours ticked away, the wife fell asleep while I remained awake. Through each minute, I desperately tried to think of a way to escape from this unstable hellhole. Just before dawn, I finally admitted defeat, realizing that the monks had chosen an inescapable prison. The wife woke as a rooster crowed. The faint dawn light had started to filter in through the small, roughly cut windows. As the day ticked on, I could hear the Faire attendees outside, walking down the streets, conversing, haggling, and enjoying the day. It wasn’t until the light was stronger that the door slammed open, revealing Prior Eadhbert and several members of his monk-guard.

  “I hope that you had plenty of time to make your peace with God,” His serpentine voice hissed. “Although God does not bear in mind the penitence of the sinners. There is only one place for you and that is Hell.”

  “You should know. That’s where you’re bound, too.” I struck him with my words and smiled as they hit their mark.

  “My brothers,” Eadhbert shrugged off my words and motioned his devotees forward. “Seize the witches and take them to the gallows.” A flick of his wrist set the men in motion. I fought against them as they grabbed me under my arms and dragged me to my feet. The wife offered no struggle but willingly allowed the men to take hold of her. Another hood slipped over my head, preventing me from seeing anything further.

  They dragged us out into the warmth of day to the sound of a large crowd already riled up and hungry for blood. Shock rippled through me as the hateful energy of the crowd licked and teased at me. The pent-up hostility pulsed and throbbed through the gathered like a racing heartbeat. It took several minutes to reach our destination. Once there, one of the monks shoved me up a short set of stairs while two sets of hands tied me to a tall, rounded pole.

  “Good people,” Eadhbert’s voice spoke right at my side. “Today, the Lord will have his justice. Two witches have been discovered living amongst us. One,” He paused, and the sound of the wife’s hood being removed ripped through the air. “An admitted husband killer, has been seen consorting with Satan under the full moon while a cast of familiars danced about her.” Eadhbert falsely professed, drinking in the crowd in the same manner that Reena once had. The wife cried out, claiming her innocence but the raucous crowd was deaf to her pleas.

  “Another witch,” Eadhbert growled deeply. I felt the sudden presence of a hand at the back of my head. “An outsider from the Island of Satan has insinuated herself in amongst God-fearing people and has cast her satanic enchantments upon us through the guise of healing.” The hood tore from off my head and I involuntarily squinted as the bright light of day blinded me.

  The loud roar of the crowd died into complete silence within the span of a heartbeat. Tied to a great pole, I faced the people of the town—friends, acquaintances, and strangers alike. I stared out at them and I was afraid. My eyes clouded with unshed tears and my lip trembled as the gravity of what was about to happen struck me. My life flashed before my eyes. Not the events but the people that I loved—Eweln, Talen, Aunt Leena, my grandmother, the Women of the Isle, Sibbe and Daffyd, the children, Archard, and Ravene. My last vision upon that pile of kindling was of Ravene. I saw her standing in the Sacred Circle where the Council met, sitting upon one of the stones, sobbing into her hands as she wept with shame and sorrow. Ravene wept for me. I knew it as if she were there before me. She had come to see the error of her ways, but she would tell no one. The embarrassment was too much for her to bear and because of it, she would remain silent. Near her, I could sense my mother’s presence, even though something was off. Her energy wasn’t the same as it was when I lived with her. It was weaker now; its immense power fragile and brittle like dried grass.

  “My good people,” Eadhbert spoke, interrupting the silence that stole the crowd’s voice. “We shall not permit this witch and her counterpart to live. We shall bear witness as God commits their souls to Hell where they will pay for their crimes for eternity.” I
shot a look at Eadhbert. He was in full-blown ecstasy at the imminent prospect of watching me die. It was plain to see that he anxiously waited to savor the flames as they licked and consumed my flesh. To my surprise, the crowd did not respond in kind. I blinked the tears out of my eyes and scanned the crowd, seeing sympathy, rage, and confusion instead of lustful hatred that I had seen before.

  “I am not a witch!” I suddenly found my own voice, speaking over Eadhbert. “My friends, you know that I am not a witch. Would the good people of the Abbey accept me if I were a follower of Satan? I am an innocent woman falsely accused. You know that my only crime is not being able to save those that we have lost, no matter how hard I have tried. For those sins alone, I am guilty, but I am not and never have been a witch. I am a simple woman. A woman of healing—friend to monks, nuns, and townsfolk alike.” Frantic, I scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face. Within seconds, I had found one.

  “Dorcas!” I called out to the woman I met when I arrived back in town for the first time. “Dorcas Smith!” If my hands had been free, I would have pointed to her. “Dorcas, tell them. Tell these wonderful people how I helped you soothe your headaches.” I begged her. The crowd around her stepped back, allowing a better view of the short, heavy-set woman whose compassion was limitless. Dorcas, who was strong-minded with a will completely her own, did not hesitate to answer my call.

  “Before Yvaine came to the town, I was troubled by terrible headaches. Headaches that Eadhbert himself said were a punishment from God for being a loose-tongued woman!” Dorcas cried out. “Since then, Yvaine’s treatments have all but cured them. I say it was Satan himself who brought the agony and that God himself brought Yvaine to cast them out.” The crowd buzzed lowly as Dorcas cast an accusatory finger at Eadhbert. “Prior Eadhbert is a foul-tempered man who has frequently shadowed good Yvaine at the markets. He’s always saying nasty things to her, judging her where it was not his place. He claims to be a man of God but does nothing to hide his desire for her! That’s right, Prior,” Dorcas sneered. “We all know how you take women to your bed and that no woman has refused you until now. I see no witch before me, only an evil-tempered monk who believes himself to be the hand of God!” Dorcas’ words set Eadhbert off. From where he stood, he lashed out at her, ordering his guard to take hold of her too. The townsfolk swarmed together and blocked them.

  “How dare you!” Eadhbert shouted seeing his command thwarted. “That woman has been enchanted by the She-Devil and is not of her right mind.” He tried to lie but at this point, the people of the town were figuring out the truth; That I had done nothing wrong and I stood falsely accused all because of a corrupted desire that the weak man beside me could not control.

  “Yvaine gave my wife peace in her final days.” Archard spoke suddenly, breaking through the murmur of the crowd. “When my Joanie was dying from cancer, Eadhbert himself said that it was punishment for her unrepented sins. Joanie was the godliest woman to ever walk this earth. If there is anyone to say that she was an unrepentant sinner, that man is a liar. Yvaine saw Joanie’s suffering and didn’t hesitate to give her comfort and peace in her final days. My Joanie went to God full of His grace and mercy. Yvaine’s kindness gave her the serenity that she deserved in the end. That is not Satan’s handiwork but the grace of the Lord.” The crowd cheered out in a sudden uproar. Eadhbert stood, unmoving but the tips of his ears went red and the hand facing me kept clenching and unclenching.

  “Eadhbert has seduced my sister,” A small, sing-song voice echoed across the space of the forum. My eyes shifted away from Archard to the delicate-boned, ivory-skinned girl that stood at his side. His daughter Eadlin stared Eadhbert down with the confidence of someone thrice her age. At ten, I had come to know her as a quiet girl, but also not someone to be trifled with, especially if you fell upon her bad side. The crowd reacted with horror. My eyes went to Aethelyn who immediately blanched of all color. Aethyln tried to cover Eadlin’s mouth but the younger girl threw her off.

  “I caught them together behind the pub.” Eadlin admitted. “She took him back there, just like she’s done with all the other boys. I saw Eadhbert as he pressed her against the wall with her legs spread open around him. I watched as he moved against her like animals in the pens. Aethyln has been telling him that Yvaine is a witch because she blames her for our mother’s death. Yvaine didn’t kill our mother. She saved her from suffering. Yvaine has been good to our family. She tended to me when I fell and broke my arm. She has nursed my father when he burned his hand while roasting a ham on the spit. She even tended Aethyln when she fell ill during the last Faire. My sister hates Yvaine because she is my father’s friend. She is my friend too, and she is a good woman.” Everyone listened enthralled as the young girl spoke with conviction that brought a new rush of tears to my eyes. The gathered whispered amongst themselves until someone else spoke up.

  “And he poisoned Prior Michael!” The wife now found her voice too. “Ask Brother Thomas! He prepared Prior Michael’s body for burial. It was him that said there were signs of belladonna poisoning. Everyone knows that Eadhbert was the only with access to poisonous concoctions. He murdered Prior Michael. And if you dare try to lie, you, hellbeast,” The wife spat towards our torturer. “God will sentence you to the lowest pits of hell! Brother Thomas is a true man of God. He will tell you the truth.”

  The crowd grew restless as I watched them continue to turn against my accuser. “Brother Thomas is not here to defend himself from this witch’s wicked lies.” Eadhbert scoffed and raised a hand to silence the increasingly angry crowd before him.

  “No, he is not here but I am!” A familiar voice rang out. I let out a sob of relief as Brother Paul approached the platform. Any timidity that he held in the past was gone. In its stead was the protective spirit of a shepherd over his flock. “Eadhbert, you are the only one with access to the purgatives and the poisons. I told you when Prior Michael died that I detected the acrid scent upon his lips, just like Brother Thomas did. You denied it profusely, claiming it was his heart, and then later, his brain. Now, it’s clear that you have committed an egregious sin. The sin of murder. It is you who should be fearing God’s wrath. Not these two innocent women here!”

  The crowd was on the edge before Paul’s words shattered the calm and sent the gathered into a frenzy. An angry cry sounded as they rushed the platform. Eadhbert’s eyes widen with panic. Knowing that he had only seconds to act, he grabbed a lit torch and tossed it onto the collection of wood at my feet. A scream ripped from my throat as the soaked wood ignited and quickly flamed. I shrieked for help as panic ensued all around me. People rushed the platform and grabbed hold of Eadhbert who had tried—and failed—to escape. My last sight of him was his body falling headfirst into the crowd as his robes were torn apart by the hands that had seized him. The flames at my feet quickly rose higher, singeing the bottoms of my shoes and licking at the skin of my legs.

  “Yvaine, hold still!” Archard burst from the crowd with Daffyd close behind him. “Yvaine, I am coming!” Archard shouted again as he reached the edge of the platform and hauled himself upwards. Within moments, he had cut the binds of my wrists and feet and wrenched me away from the growing inferno. “We have to get you out of town. If Eadhbert survives, it will be too dangerous for you here. We must get you away. Far, far away.” Archard grabbed hold of my hand while Daffyd protected us.

  Holding my hand tightly in his, Archard helped me down from the platform and protected me with his body as we made our way through the fighting crowd. Punches were thrown, feet kicked, and hands slapped at us as we pushed our way through until we reached the edge of the assembled. Once we were free, Archard kept me pressed against him until we reached the gate leading out of the town.

  “Here’s your sack,” He pulled my bag out from behind him.

  “Where did you get it?” I asked in astonishment. “I dropped it when the guards seized me as I walked through the gate yesterday.”

  “Eadlin saw them take you. As soon
as they hauled you away, she brought your bag to me.” He wore an anguished expression upon his face. “I tried to reach you but there was always two men outside the holding cell. I’m sorry that I could not have come sooner and prevented all of this from happening.” His shoulders slumped remorsefully. I reached out and touched his shoulder, thanking him for what he had done.

  “I’m free now. That is all that matters,” I said and moved my hand to hold my bag tighter to me. “I also want to thank you for your friendship.” I paused and took a deep, steadying breath. “Your family has given me something that I have been missing. For that, I will forever be grateful to you.” Archard and I stood face to face before I turned to walk away.

  “Wait!” Archard called out and pulled me back to face him. Without hesitation, he leaned in and kissed me lightly upon my lips. Just as quickly, he pulled back and bade me farewell. “When it is safe, I will have your cart brought to you. Either Daffyd or I will bring it whenever the threat of danger is over. Take care of yourself, Yvaine, and know that there will always be someone out there that loves you.” He reluctantly let me go. I paused and thanked him again before turning on my heel and swiftly began to run as fast as my feet could carry me.

  ************

  I reached home in half the time. Fear drove me forward. Fear that the monks, the guards, and the men of the city would be roaming the countryside looking for me left me panicked. I ran most of the way, choosing to walk only when my lungs refused to allow me to continue my running pace. When I reached the base of the hill where my home was, I pushed myself to keep going and only allowed myself to stop once I was inside and the door was closed shut behind me.

  Dropping my sack on the floor, I went to my bed and sank down upon its soft, comforting surface. I snuggled into the blankets I had laid just a few days before and burst into tears. I cried for hours, allowing myself to grieve over the loss of what I had found within the community of the town. I cried for the friends that I would miss terribly. I cried for the loss of my work, already regretting not being able to help. I would miss the fulfillment that came from treating and healing the people who needed me the most. They had given me a purpose that I had been missing since I left the Island. People to talk to, people to trade with, and people who accepted me for who I was, rather than where I came from. The people of the village were kind-hearted people who accepted me into their fold. To leave them and know that I was not safe to return was heartbreaking beyond words.