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(I'm going to start running out of "I don't own it" one liners sooner or later...)
Once upon a time, long ago, before the Americas were colonized, before the Tudors sat on the throne of England, before the War of the Roses, before the Black Death spread across the land and seas, back during a time when the fairytales of today were real events that spread from town to town and were whispered around hearths….a baby girl came into being.
She was born in Eagle-bend, a bustling township that was a mere two day's journey from Oxford, and situated beside a bend in the mighty river that ran near most of the villages dotting the countryside. Her father was a well-to-do merchant, one of the few freemen of the town. She was his first child, born on a cold December's day. He and his wife were overjoyed at the birth, and they christened her Seras in hopes that she would grow strong and beautiful.
For a while, they lived in happiness together. But when the seasons began to change, disease swept through the town. Some said the town was blighted by a witch who had been wronged in some way. Others said it was God's divine judgment on the unrighteous. Still others claimed it had been brought by the gypsies that had trundled through the countryside that winter. But whatever the reason, it came.
Death did not discriminate that spring. Hale and hearty, old and feeble, young and helpless; all succumbed and died alike, and the church's graveyard quickly became an overflowing ground of corpses as the gravediggers also fell prey. In the end, the bustling township was no longer so bustling, as over half the population now lay in the thawed earth.
The babe found herself an orphan, as her mother and father both passed in a fortnight, within three days of each other. The survivors of the illness had no need for a squalling child, and the local clergy scrambled to find someone to care for her. Then, by an act of Providence, an old widow remembered that the merchant had been the younger of two brothers, and the elder had plied his blacksmithing trade in the nearby village of Victoria—a half-day's journey from Eagle-bend on foot.
Thankfully, illness had not spread to Victoria, and the clergy found to their relief that Tobias of Victoria was alive and well. The local parish priest replied to their queries with a letter explaining that Tobias had been deeply grieved at the news of his brother's untimely demise, and had expressed fervently that he wanted the babe to be brought to him. His marriage was a barren one, and he and his wife had always longed for a child.
The clergy wholeheartedly agreed to send the child. A blacksmith would be able to provide for a growing girl, and surely God would temper mercy with judgment. For what joy could come of this tragedy, if two childless people were able to bring love to an orphan girl? So they sent word back and the parish priest arranged to ride personally up to the town and collect the small girl.
The blacksmith was a broad man, muscled and smeared with soot from head to toe. It collected in his beard and mixed with his sweat to create a thick grayish sludge that smudged everything he touched. When he collected the child from the priest, her cheeks were instantly dyed a murky, sooty color. She smiled up at him with big blue eyes, and he felt his heart swell. He took her home to his wife, and they loved her dearly from the day she entered the door of their one-room cottage.
But though their years were happy, a fate encounter soon changed Seras' tides once more.
"Can't I go with you, Uncle?" Seras knew that at nineteen, she was far too old to be whining. But she couldn't help it—not today. Her uncle, being part of the London blacksmithing guild, had to take annual trips to the great city in order to further his knowledge. Plying his trade was easier when he followed the latest fashions of the time, and what better place to learn but the seat of the Throne, where the smiths that supplied the royal family stayed?
"Now, Kitten…" her uncle trailed off, looking at her firmly. She bowed her head in submission, her cheeks flushing under the weight of his rare chastisement. Her aunt was always complaining that Seras was coddled too much by the man, but that only made his scolding much worse, since it came far less often. At the sight of her dejected expression, he laughed deeply and put his broad hand on her hair. "Come now, lass! Don't look so glum. I'll be back soon, and I'll bring you something nice from town. Some sweetmeats, perhaps."
"If you come back healthy and bring me interesting stories, I'll be far happier than if you came back with comfits," Seras said, smiling despite her sinking heart. Deep down, she knew that it was impossible for her to go to London. She was needed here at the cottage to help her aunt. And even if she were somehow able to travel there, there was nowhere for her to stay. London was full of cutpurses and debauchery, and women weren't allowed into the smithing guild in any case.
But a part of her couldn't help but want to see the things her uncle talked about when he told her of his travels; lords and ladies in gaily-coloured clothing, bards who sang of romance and betrayal, the rows upon rows of shoppes that catered to every need—bakeries, tanners, grocers, alehouses…. Oh, to see it just once!
"We'll see," he replied good-naturedly, rubbing her golden locks before mounting his horse. He looked at the cottage and Seras turned to see her aunt appearing from the darkened threshold. The woman looked calculatingly at the rising sun and pursed her lips, heading for the gate.
"Are you still here?" she asked teasingly, shaking her head. "If you don't head on now, you'll be caught in the middle of nowhere when the sun sets. You'll need to make it to Mid-town tavern by tonight at the very least, if you want to make good time." She reached up and patted his thigh with her hand, looking at him as if committing his face to memory. Seras knew her aunt always worried when he made these trips; so many simply disappeared on long journeys, their families always wondering what had happened to them and never being able to get an answer.
"Aye, aye," her uncle laughed again, waving to them before he hiyahed and galloped down the path. Seras and her aunt waved to him as he crossed the Eastern horizon, their hands over their eyes to watch as long as they could without being blinded by the sun's bright rays. Her aunt sighed, tucking stray wisps of hair back underneath her kerchief before turning to her young niece.
"Come then, we must also begin. Without your uncle, we both have twice as much work to do as normally. Let's get started now before we fall behind." Seras bit back her sigh as she followed her aunt back through the gate and towards the stables to let out the family's two sheep and the old cow to graze on the common. Twice as much work… how nice.
But even though she hated the idea, she had promised her uncle the night before that she'd be good help to her aunt. After all, they had taken her in and raised her from the time she was a babe, and had been like a mother and father to her. And even if she did try to skip Mass every now and again, she knew her commandments well enough. She was supposed to obey and honor her father and mother, or in this case her aunt and uncle.
And so once the animals were let out of the stables, she started on her uncle's usual task of cleaning out the filthy waste and putting fresh straw in the holding areas. Her aunt came and got the dung to spread on their garden, and bade Seras to feed the chickens and get the eggs while she fetched water and tended to the plot of land allotted to them for vegetables and herbs.
The morning passed quickly enough, and Seras found herself too busy to complain about the extra work. She even found herself doing beyond her normal measure without even thinking about it; she swept the cottage's packed earthen floor and spread fresh straw on it, and even raked the coals and ashes of the hearth without being told to.
The hard work didn't go unnoticed by her aunt, and when Seras finished brushing the older woman's felted-wool cloak and leaving it to air with the other outer-garments in the sun, she came over and gave an approving nod.
"Tis a good job, I must say. You've been working with the might of two girls your age all morning." Seras beamed at the acknowledgement of her work. Her aunt was a solemn and silent creature by nature, with gray eyes that reminded Seras of a cold winter's morning. She was not cruel, but she was severe and neat. She was never seen without a fresh overtunic and her hair was impeccable in its long plait.
By comparison Seras was the complete opposite. For some strange reason, her hair never grew past her shoulders, and therefore it was too short to be put in any sort of braid or bun. As was the custom with unmarried girls, she kept her head uncovered. The wind tousled her hair until it stood out in all directions, which vexed her aunt to no end. Her face was always stained with a bit of mud or grass and she was constantly shedding her overtunic and running around the village with the hems of her hose showing.
Being so unlike each other, her aunt always found fault in Seras and was constantly chiding her for every little thing. She dawdled at the well, she fought with the brewer's daughter and had yanked out her hair one time in a spirited brawl, she skipped church to run and roll in the blossoming fields of heather, she didn't do her chores properly, and so on. Any sort of true compliment on her part was rare indeed, and Seras wasn't blind to it.
"You've earned yourself a break, I think," her aunt said after a moment, nodding again. "I can handle the pig today—I want you to take this basket back to the church where it came from." She handed Seras a small woven basket which had once held rolls. Last week her aunt had borrowed it from the priest when her own basket had torn at the side and left a gaping hole.
"Yes, Aunt." Seras didn't want to say that she was less than excited about going to the church. It wasn't that she could care less about her eternal soul—no, she went to confession and prayed each day like a good Christian child. But the church was so stifling and hot, while outside the air was fresh and the hills seemed to call her name as she ran across them to the river, which was wide and bubbled with a secret song that she couldn't quite discern.
"And you needn't hurry back until the animals need to come from the common," her aunt finished with a rare smile. "Run along to the river if you'd like. Just be back at sundown and take the pail with you for some water." Seras felt her heart jump with joy. Her aunt was really giving her the entire afternoon off? What a treat! She impulsively embraced the woman, who patted her head as if she were still a small child and then waved her off before heading back to where the herbs lay ready to be strung from the rafters.
She skipped through the village, which earned her a cluck of disapproval from the Widow Shale as she passed by the old woman's home. However, this day her heart was too light for her to mind much. She passed by the butcher's, where the man's two young sons were teasing a stray cat with a spare piece of sausage. The church lay at the end of the dirt path, where the village ended and the lane widened into a road that led traveler's onwards to Eagle-bend, and then Oxford beyond. She knocked on the church's great door, and waited patiently until she heard the priest calling from within.
Father Anderson was a large man, a head and some taller than her uncle, who towered over Seras as it was. He had broad shoulders and a thick trunk, and looked more suited for a warrior than a man of the cloth. His nose was squashed close against his face like a lump of clay, and while he wasn't the comeliest man in the village he certainly wasn't hard to look at. He had no beard, but scraggly hair abounded on his face and his hair was sheared, favoring her aunt's paler locks in colour. A long scar—the result of a horse accident—left a thick gash in one cheek and only added to his savage appearance.
But it was his eyes that captured Seras' attention. Once, a year or so ago, she had come to the church with her uncle on some small commission—she forgot what. At some point, the tide of the conversation had changed and the priest had brought out an illuminated manuscript from beneath the altar, where it lay for protection.
Seras was unable to read—only boys went to school, though she'd have leaped at the chance to even learn how to spell her name—but she knew the unintelligible squiggles were Latin. Her uncle, however, had been taught to read and write, and even to work a little business mathematics by his father, who had also been a blacksmith. And the priest had been educated at a clerical university, and was by far the most literate person in the area, save the clergyman at Eagle-bend.
In any case, while the two men had leaned over the book to discern the words, Seras had looked with avid interest at the pictures drawn upon the pages. She recognized a few biblical references from the stories, while others were pictures of people celebrating holy days. Her eyes were drawn to an image of a king with his servants—the man's crown and garments were covered in sparkling jewels.
Her curiosity had gotten the better of her, and when her uncle and the priest were finished she'd asked about the jewels. She'd seen a ruby once before on a brooch belonging to a lady staying in the manor house at Eagle-bend, but the others were foreign to her.
"The blue one, 'tis a sapphire," her uncle explained. "It is like your eyes, little kitten." Seras scoffed at his usage of the pet name in front of the priest, but didn't dare rebuke her elder in front of a man of God. "And the green ones be emeralds." She had decided she liked those best, the green of grass and trees.
If her eyes reminded her uncle of sapphires, then the priest's bright eyes, shining with an inner light, reminded her of emeralds.
"Well, well, well. I never thought I'd see the day that the blacksmith's wee lass would come willingly into the temple of God, when the day outside was so bright." Seras smiled at his words, for though they were spoken in a rough way she could hear the undercurrent of teasing. Usually he was threatening her with both earthly and divine punishment for her slothful, eluding nature; having him be tongue-in-cheek with her was a most welcome divergence.
"What have ye done, that ye must come all the way to town for confession?" he asked, and she laughed and shook her head. She held out the basket, dropping into a polite curtsey when both her hands were free.
"I've not come for confession, Sir; I was bid by my aunt to return this to you. With her thanks," she added as an afterthought, not wanting to portray her aunt as ungrateful. The priest accepted the basket and moved to put it away in an adjoining room, which Seras took to be his personal quarters. She knew he slept in the church, but had never seen anything beyond the altar.
"She's most welcome," he said at length when he'd returned. "I'm glad it served her well, though she might have waited until Sunday to return it to me. I've no need of it, to be sure." Seras shrugged before thinking better of it and clasped her hands behind her back to keep the temptation of another informal gesture at bay.
"I'm headed myself to the miller's house, so it was on my way. 'Twas no trouble." She exchanged a few parting words with the priest before leaving and making her way towards the miller's, which stood on the banks of the river and was home to her dearest companion, Anna.
Anna was a year younger than Seras. She was plump from the good breads and rolls she helped her mother bake in their shop, and her hair was a brilliant shade of red that rivaled the trees in autumn. She and Seras had grown up as bosom friends, and even now they enjoyed being together by the river, laughing and talking.
Anna was given leave to spend a portion of the afternoon with Seras, and together they picked their way through the fields of wildflowers to the bank of the glistening waters. The miller's water wheel creaked behind them as Seras began to braid her friend's hair, weaving blue and white flowers into the plaits as Anna spoke about her love for the brewer's eldest son, Thomas.
"I wish that he would ask me to be his sweetheart," she sighed as Seras ran her fingers through the auburn locks, gently pulling apart the tangles. "We're old enough for beaus now, aren't we?"
"Sure enough, girls younger than us are married each day," Seras answered plainly as she picked some more flowers and tied their stems at the base of the braid. "But we aren't old spinsters yet, either. Can't you enjoy a few more years of freedom? After all, once you're married you're duty-bound to start having children and tying up your hair like an old woman."
"Yes, but I'd be able to run my own house," Anna replied dreamily. "And with as many patrons as Sir Brewer has, he's bound to have a servant or two. Perhaps we can get an alehouse at the town and serve passing gentry. Then I could learn the fashions from the ladies that stay at the inn while their fellows drink." She sighed again. "Tell me again of London and the women there."
"If you're patient a week or so, I'll have new stories to tell," Seras retorted, but obediently began relating the stories of fashion her uncle had told her. Anna soaked up the stories and they laughed over their imagined Court romances. Finally Seras ran out of tales and Anna lay back on the bank with a smile, taking care to keep her bedecked hair safely curled over her shoulder. Seras lay next to her and they watched the clouds.
"It looks nearly like rain," Anna said at last. "But surely, this time of year, there would be no sudden storms. After all, it's the midst of summer." But even as she said that, the sky seemed to prove her wrong as the darkening clouds rolled over the horizon and obscured the heavens. Seras sat up reluctantly, not wanting to end this unusual luxury. It wasn't every day she was able to see her friend and speak like this, or simply do nothing more than lay back and watch the sky.
"I must get back. I have to bring in the animals in my uncle's stead," she said, and embraced her friend, kissing her cheek warmly before waving goodbye and running up the bank. By the time she reached the village path and remembered to stop for the water her aunt had wanted, the first sprinkles were hitting the dusty earth and staining the pale brown dark. The people milling about the village looked up in surprise at the rain, an odd sight in the heat of the summer.
She ran back towards her home as fast as she dared, trying to keep from sloshing the water out of the bucket. Her aunt was already at the gate looking for her, and when she approached she grabbed the bucket and waved her onwards.
"Hurry, hurry!" she cried over the sound of the wind picking up. Seras didn't even stop to acknowledge that she heard, but raced to the common and barely managed to gather up the animals. She corralled them back into the stables and heard the rain coming over the hills in a dull roar of falling water. She foolishly stopped to look and was caught in the downpour, her aunt gesturing for her to come to the cottage.
"You'll catch your death, standing like a goose in the rain!" she scolded sharply, peeling Seras' wet garments off and spreading them near the fire to dry off. "A sudden storm… it's a bad omen," she added after a moment, looking out the open door to where the rain poured. The wind began to buffet the water in and she moved to shut the door, trapping them in the dim light. Seras sniffed and warmed her chilled limbs by the hearth, for once not bothering to argue that she was only looking to see if the rain was moving all at once like a wall over the hills.
"I hope Uncle wasn't caught out in the rain," she declared after she had dried and her aunt had run a comb through her helplessly tangled hair. The impromptu bath had washed the dirt from her face and now she felt cleaner than normal, though having wet hair wasn't comfortable in the slightest. "Perhaps he'd already reached Mid-town tavern."
She knew it was silly to think that, but her aunt didn't dispute her words. Instead the woman just looked up towards the thatched roof, where they could both hear the rain pounding away, and set her lips into a line so thin that Seras wondered if her mouth might just disappear entirely.
The rain lasted for two days and two nights. Unable to do their normal chores, Seras and her aunt instead turned their attention to indoor tasks. It was nearly unbearable for the girl who was used to running under the open sky.
She sat by the hearth, mending the family's clothing and wondering how the aristocratic ladies in the manor house at Eagle-bend could stand it. They never went out of doors, always keeping their pale faces inside and bending over their needlepoint. She bent over her own crude sewing and sighed, trying to pluck apart an errant stitch without her aunt seeing her.
Her aunt was busy too, spinning wool and flax into thread or replenishing the family's supply of poultices and medicines with the drying herbs she'd collected. But unlike Seras, she didn't complain about being stuck in the cottage, living by the dark light of one tallow candle and the burning flames of the hearth. She set a good example for her impatient niece, bending over boiling pots of herbs silently, her mind focused on her task at hand.
"Praise be!" Seras couldn't help but exclaim on the third day when she awoke and saw the cottage door open and the early morning sunlight spilling across the threshold. She didn't know if she could take another full day indoors. Her aunt had made the wet trips to care for the animals, knowing that if Seras went out there she'd be distracted and would come back soaked to the bone rather than only mildly wet.
She volunteered to do the laundry, willing to trade red hands and aching shoulders for the chance to bask in the sun while beating the linens against the river stones. Her aunt hesitated a moment, but finally consented.
"Don't dally by the waters, girl," she warned as she handed over the baskets of soiled cloth and went to tend to the animals herself. "I want you back straightaway, for today I'll be working a good part on cheese." Like most of the other village women, her aunt used the milk from their one cow to make cheese and butter for the family. Such a time-consuming task meant that while her aunt was busy, Seras would be churning butter and finishing a few of the other chores alone.
"Alright," she agreed, for even the daunting tasks would be worth the delicious cheese come harvest season. She hoisted the laundry over her head and quickly made her way to the river, but even though she promised to hurry she did falter for a moment to breathe in the air. The fields still glistened with raindrops and dew, and the scent of the soil after rain permeated the atmosphere all around her. She forgave herself this tiny pleasure as she began to scrub the soil from the family's clothing and bedding.
Though the river's soft sounds were peaceful and the birds chirping in the bushes made her want to sing along, the sun continued to rise and soon the air shimmered with heat. She began to think about the tree by the house, and the shade it provided. She finally got the last stubborn stain out of her own faded tunic and carted the baskets back to the house. She was longer in returning, not by her lingering, but because the weight of the waterlogged clothing made the two baskets so heavy she could barely handle them both.
Even taking as long as she did, she must have returned in a sensible amount of time for her aunt saw her preparing to string the clothes on a line spread between the tree and the cottage and didn't reproach her in any way. Now that Seras was back, her aunt rounded the corner of the house and made her way to the cool, dry storage where the cheese wheels lay packed in salt for preservation.
Seras took this silence as a compliment to her obedience, and began to drape the clothing across the lines where the sunlight would be sure to fall on them. It didn't take long to complete the task, and she took a moment to herself in order to lean against the tree. She pressed her cheek against the cool bark and looked at the horizon.
Over the hills, the clouds were no longer dark harbingers of rain, but light and fluffy balls that resembled cotton. She watched with interest as the grass and clouds alike were blown in the same breeze, and then a rider appeared over the hill and galloped towards the village. She regarded him with a detached sort of curiosity; lone riders were uncommon, but not unheard of. It was most likely a man with a message for Father Anderson from Eagle-bend's clergyman.
It was only when the horse met with the main path and turned not towards the church, but towards her home that she realized who the rider was. Struck with momentary shock and confusion, she watched as the man rode straight for them as if the Devil himself were on his heels. Then, she dropped the empty straw basket and ran blindly towards the gate, bursting through it to meet the horse as it approached. She could have been trampled, but the horse knew its home and slowed before they collided in the path.
"Uncle!" she cried, looking him over quickly. She was bewildered; he should have been away from home for three Sundays at least, for London was a long journey. Something must have happened to impede his progress towards the city.
Wracking her brain, she wondered if the rain had flooded the river so that it was hopeless to cross. Their side of the river had receded, but she knew from his stories that past the bend it easily overran its banks and flooded the low-lying countryside. But if that was it, why did he look so out of sorts? And why was he riding home so quickly?
"Uncle," she repeated, "what is the matter? Why are you home so soon?" It seemed at first he didn't register that she had said anything at all to him. He looked down at her, and his face was paling quickly. His beard stood out in stark contrast to his nearly bloodless cheeks, and his expression was not one she could place immediately.
Suddenly, horror dawned on his face and he slipped from his mount to clutch her in a tight embrace. She smelled sweat and smoke on his clothing, as well as something she had only smelled near the manor house—perfumed soap. She leaned back and wrinkled her nose, her hands pressed against his torso as she looked up at him.
"Where have you been? Your clothing has been washed like 'twas a lord's tunic." Her uncle only pressed his chin to the top of her head and sagged against her. She nearly toppled back with the weight of him and panicked, thinking that perhaps he'd been injured in some way. "Uncle?! What is it?"
"Oh Seras…. Seras…." he whispered, and the sound was pleading and desperate. It made it seem as though she were on her deathbed, and trepidation settled into her stomach like a bad meal, making her innards churn. And he so rarely used her Christian name; the unfamiliar sound of it on his lips only furthered her worry.
"Uncle, come in," she urged him, half-carrying, half-leading him into the cottage. She sat him on his preferred stool near the hearth, propping him up against the wall and blinking rapidly to adjust her eyes. He didn't seem to be mortally wounded in any place, but he was breathing hard and looked on the verge of tears. Her stomach twisted into a tighter knot at the sight. "I will go and fetch my aunt," she said quickly, at a loss for what to do. Her aunt was always the one who stayed calm in emergencies.
"Aye," her uncle nodded, rubbing a hand over his face. "Fetch Agnes, and then run as fast as you can to the church and bid Father Anderson to come at once." His voice was nearly as frenzied as hers, but he spoke barley above a whisper. She didn't waste any more time, hurrying towards the room where her aunt was bent over the cheese press.
"Aunt!" she all but screamed, and the woman jumped and put a hand over her heart, wheeling around to chew her niece out for frightening her so. But at the look on Seras' face, any scolding words died on her lips and instead she rushed forward to grasp the girl's shoulders.
"My uncle has returned," she explained, swallowing hard. It felt as though her heart were in her throat. "He is ill or injured or—I know not what," she sputtered, shaking her head. "You must tend to him, for he's bid me to run for the priest as quickly as my feet will take me." Her aunt didn't speak, but instead moved past her and made a straight beeline for the cottage door. Seras overtook her and burst through the gate, skirts held tight in her hands as she sprinted towards the church on the other side of the village.
She ran faster than she ever had before, heart thundering in her chest and lungs refusing to gather air as she sped down the lane. She dodged under and around people as she passed, hearing their questions flying after her but not daring to stop and explain herself. She tripped on the church stairs and nearly fell, but managed to catch her footing and do an awkward dance to keep herself aloft.
She didn't bother knocking, but instead simply open the door and ran inside, the father's name on her lips. He was cleaning the altar and looked up when he saw her approaching, his eyebrows arching at her swift entrance.
"Back again?" he laughed, but the smile faded from his face when he saw her countenance. "What is it, child? What's happened?" She shook her head, willing her lungs to draw breath.
"Uncle—returned," she managed to say after a moment. "Something—wrong, said—get—you." She took a deeper breath and nearly choked on the incensed air. "Please—come quickly." The man's face darkened and he nodded gravely.
"Run ahead if you can muster it, child. Tell him that I am following right behind you. I need only to gather my cloak." Seras turned and obeyed, taking a leap and clearing the stairs before running back towards home.
Her legs burned and her lungs screamed for air, her heart working in overdrive; however, she didn't dare stop. At this very moment, her uncle may be in dire need of her, and she wouldn't be able to rest until she was at his side again. Ignoring the pain in her limbs, she urged herself onwards and passed back the way she had come. Only when she passed through the door of the cottage did she stop, hands on her knees as she tried to breathe.
"Is the priest coming?" her aunt said, moving forward. Seras' vision swam, but she saw her uncle looked a little better, though he was still pale and despondent. She managed to nod, chest heaving, and her aunt took her arm and made her sit. "There's a girl… you did well," she said softly, pressing a cup of ale into Seras' hand. Seras' legs began to shake and she leaned against the daubed wall, her heart pounding so loudly it was a wonder no one else heard it.
They sat in silence until a knock on the door signaled the priest's arrival. Her aunt let him in and he crossed the cottage in three great strides, putting his hand on the blacksmith's shoulder. The man looked up at him and breathed a sigh of relief.
"What's happened, Tobias?" Father Anderson asked quietly, though his words sounded loud in the near-silence of the room. The man shook his head and motioned for his wife to get a seat for the father. After ale was brought and the priest seen to, he swallowed, steeled himself, and spoke.
"Four days ago I set out for London, to visit the guild," he explained slowly to the priest, who nodded and made a gesture for him to continue. "You know that a storm came unexpectedly that very afternoon. I was caught in the storm, and meant to find a tavern to stay at until it passed over."
"However, by the time I reached the main river, the banks had swelled beyond any means of crossing. I knew that downstream there was a felled pile of stone and I decided that I would try to lead my horse across the pile, seeing as it was a sort of dam that separated the lowlands from the town path. I knew that if I didn't get across the river, I'd risk sleeping outside in the rain, or at the very least unprotected in the open air."
"Tobias, crossing on those rocks would have been too dangerous!" his wife exclaimed, eyes wide. "The water could have washed them away at any moment; I don't imagine that they're well-seated."
"They were far less dangerous than taking my chances with a wandering gang of thieves. The sun was close to setting, and Riverside tavern is only a mile or so past the river's natural edge." The priest nodded, and her uncle continued his tale. "In any case, the waters must have risen above the stones, for I reached the wood before I could find my crossing, when normally the stones would have been easily visible even in the waning light."
"I didn't have much time to think, but I decided to head back towards the lane and try my luck at a shallower spot I had spotted when looking for the stones. It was deeper than it first appeared, for while I was fine in the shallows, a sudden dip made me lose my hands on the reigns. The horse panicked and in my effort to grab her, we both lost our footing and were swept away by the water."
At this revelation, her aunt let out a strangled sound and covered her face for a long moment. Seras felt her heart lurch in her chest and shivered involuntarily. Her uncle was lucky to be alive, for even without the storm churning the water a foolhardy traveler could easily be drowned in the swift current. The fact that her uncle and the horse had escaped was truly a miracle. The priest said a prayer under his breath as her aunt got herself under control.
"How did you manage to stay afloat?" Father Anderson asked when everything was quiet once more.
"By some act of God I managed to grab the reins once more in a way that they were tangled around my fist, and I kept my head above the water and grabbed out for anything I could. A strong sapling managed to hold to the bank and I called for the horse, which swam over to me with only a little trouble."
"Somehow—I know not how I managed, but I did—we made it up the bank and rested a moment, clearing the water from our lungs." He took a deep breath, as if remembering the feeling of water rushing into his lungs, and the panicky breathlessness of drowning. "When I looked around, we were deep in the wood, and there were no familiar landmarks."
"I knew that if night were to fall on us—a lone traveler, weak and chilled, lost in the woods—we'd be prime targets for the cutthroats that wandered those trees." Seras leaned forward despite herself, straining to hear every sound that escaped her uncle's mouth. She knew that she shouldn't be so intrigued by the man's story of near-death, but she couldn't help herself. It was the sort of story that she enjoyed: suspenseful, action-packed, and full of danger.
"I thought to follow the river back, but that soon proved to be nearly impossible. Too many trees had been strewn by the wind, and there were times I couldn't see the waters for the rain and leaves. I meant to take a long route around a copse of trees too closely knit to pass through, but I must have taken a wrong turn and ended up deeper in the woods than I had originally been. There came a point where I couldn't see or hear the river at all."
"I wandered blindly, trying to find either a cave to take shelter in, or a way back to the river. Now I could barely see far in front of me, for the light had nearly gone. Then, to my good fortune—" he paused, frowning. "At least, I thought to my good fortune, I stumbled across a clearing, and in the clearing was a well-situated manor house, built of stone with the forest serving as a natural fence of sorts."
"Ah!" I thought to myself. "Here is a place to stay, even it's only in the stables. I must not be farther from a town than I thought, if a lord's home is out here." So I prayed thanks to God and started towards the door, hoping to gain shelter from the storm for the night."
"And you did?" her aunt asked with bated breath. Her uncle gulped and shuddered, closing his eyes.
"If I had known what lay behind those walls, I'd have taken my chances with the thieves." Seras gaped in bafflement. What could be so bad that he'd have rather fought ruthless outlaws?
"What was it, Tobias?" the priest murmured. "Tell us."
"I knocked on the door, but no one answered. Firelight blazed from the windows, so I assumed that someone was still awake. I entered, despite my better judgment, and called out to anyone within. No one answered my call, either, so I followed the light to a warmed great hall, well-furnished and with a large fire burning. Instead of a hearth, there was a large grate with a mantle like in the greater houses of London," he added afterwards, with a sense of peasant admiration.
"I took the liberty of warming myself, and seeing as my fall into the river had ruined what food I had on my person, I began to feel hungry. I had missed dinner, and when I was warmer I ventured back to the entrance to see if I could hail a servant or a porter. I found no one, but in a separate room I did see breads and ale laid for the servants. I was hungry enough that I took some bread, but after one bite… he appeared."
"Who?" the priest asked concernedly. Her uncle's face paled again and his eyes glistened with fear in the light of the flames.
"A demon." The words met with a long moment of disbelief. Seras felt her jaw hang open, and Father Anderson and her aunt both crossed themselves. She followed suit sheepishly afterwards, still puzzled by her uncle's confession. He'd met a demon and lived to tell the tale?
"Are you certain?" Father Anderson asked seriously. "Was it in the form of a beast, or something not of this world? Did it speak magick at you?" Her uncle shook his head.
"It took the form of a man, taller than me. Perhaps your height, with a tangled mane. Indeed, when I first saw him I took him only to be the lord of the manor. He wore a strange coat of armor, unlike the knights of Eagle-bend's suits." Seras didn't dare breathe, in case she missed something. In her mind's eye, she envisioned a tall, vaguely human form with horns barely hidden by its hair and goat's feet stuffed into iron-shod boots.
"But when I looked again, I knew he was not of this world—an evil spirit, a worker of malice. His eyes were the color of those flames!" he proclaimed, pointing at the hearth. "Deep, dark red, and cold as ice. When he looked upon me, I felt the Evil Eye and could not move for fear."
"He stepped towards me and bared his teeth; they were long and pointed like a beast's, and I felt dread in my stomach, and nearly threw up the bread I had eaten. The shadows around the room seemed to cling to him and move with him, curling around his boots and I couldn't discern where his hair ended and they began. He loomed over me and I could do little more than stare at him and pray for deliverance from this creature." The priest nodded, and her aunt had her hands over her mouth as if afraid to speak.
Seras added two glowing embers for eyes to her mental creature, and shivered at the wicked image. It was terrifying in an exciting way; she had felt the same way when she had once gotten too close to a large bear that had come with a traveling faire, and it had growled at her threateningly.
"He spoke to me then, and his words cut to my marrow. He was furious, but not once did he raise his voice. "Forward, pathetic little human!" he called me, and I trembled in my boots. "Who gave you leave to enter my home? Who told you to partake of my food? Who told you to intrude upon my privacy?"
"I was beside myself with terror, but I fell to my knees and cried out "Forgive me, my lord! I only wished to find shelter from the storm, and a place to sleep for the night. I called out but no one answered, and I had only thought that in a house as great at this, no one would begrudge me warming myself by the fire, and no one would miss a mouthful of bread and a sip of ale. I beg your pardon!"
"He dragged me back to my feet, and when his eyes locked with mine I felt myself rooted to the very spot. I knew some sort of magick was at work, and prayed fervently that if I were to die, that my soul would not suffer at the hands of him or his masters in Hell. He stared at me a long moment, and as he did so he seemed to calm somewhat. Then he released me and said this:
"I will give you shelter from the storm, and a safe haven to rest. In return, when the rain is gone you will return to your home. In a week's time, I will follow you. You will forfeit your life to me, unless you agree to give to me the first thing that passes through the gate at your arrival—be it leaf blown by the wind, rotten timber fallen from the threshold, or a chicken wandering outside of its hutch—it will belong to me. If you refuse to obey me, I will strike you down where you stand."
"I didn't know what to do, so I agreed to his demands. He personally took me upstairs to the solar, and I had my own private room. My clothing was cleaned and dried, I was given a large repast, and a servant assured me that my mount was being cleaned and fed in the stables. For two days and two nights, I was confined to that room. My meals were brought to me, and I wanted for nothing. Then, on the third day, the servant attending to me led me to the entrance, where I found my horse saddled and waiting. I returned home as quickly as I could but…." He looked away, his breath catching in his throat.
"I meant to throw something—anything—through the gate. Something expendable, where I could gladly hand it over and have that demon leave me in peace. But when I foolishly made the pledge to the creature of darkness, I forgot about Jephthah and his torments. The first thing that rushed through the gate upon my arrival was my niece, whom I love like my own daughter!" He buried his face in his hands, unable to say more.
The room span and Seras was unable to breathe for a moment, her heart stopping and skipping a beat as her uncle's words sank in. Suddenly the image in her head wasn't exciting anymore, but instead purely horrific and alarming. She had been the one to run through the gate, out into the street. He had seen it, and knew what her rash action had done—it had sealed their fates, one way or the other. When the demon came, it would either take his life or hers.
"No." The denial was from her aunt, who was shaking her head slowly. "No, this cannot happen. Something must be done," she said, looking towards the priest. "What can be done? Surely, surely, as good Christians we can fight against this darkness!" Father Anderson's eyes were grave, and he scratched his chin pensively as he thought.
"Something will be done," her uncle answered hollowly. "I will die in a week's time." Now it was Seras' turn to shake her head. Her uncle, dead? No! That couldn't be allowed to happen—it wouldn't be allowed to happen! She too looked towards the priest, the symbol of Christendom and all that was good in their village, hoping that he would be able to miraculously make this better.
"I can do nothing but bless you," Father Anderson said at length. "When the demon comes, then perhaps I can banish it back to the depths of Hell. But for now, we can only wait and hope that it is weak enough for my earthly form to handle it's magick."
That night, the relief of the blacksmith's return was dampened by the cold scythe of Death hanging low over the cottage, beckoning to them all.
Afterword: Reviews appreciated, as always!
Chapter 2 will be out on June 6th!