A/N: Let's see how our healer is doing, shall we? Happy reading!
Chapter-9
Castle Stirling, Scotland
"This is madness!" she cries out, looking at Laird MacCallum. "Laird, you know me. I am not a witch!"
"That is exactly what a witch would say," Father Aro insists. "I have been told that people call you 'Draoidh', so you must be a witch." He turns back to the Laird and adds, "My Laird, this woman and her mother before her has been known to magically heal every disease. How can any mere mortal do that? How can anyone but a witch interfere with God's decree?"
Isabella glares at the priest. "That is just bollocks! Have you gone daft, Father Aro? Can you not understand that some herbs have healing properties? I do not have a hand in what anyone calls me, but I assure you, what I do is based on science. I do not have any magical powers. I am just a healer."
"What blasphemy!" Father Aro roars, pointing to her. "My Laird, do you see how she disrespects a man of the cloth before you? Even her tongue is that of the Devil himself."
Graham MacCallum holds his hand up to ask for silence. "Now, now, Isabella," he addresses the woman writhing against the bindings around her wrists. "There is no need for using such language."
Isabella looks beseechingly at him. "My Laird, please, you knew my mother. You know how she served the men in your clan to ease their sufferings. I am merely a follower of her footsteps. I am a healer and that is all."
"Liar!" Father Aro growls, halting her speech. "You prevented Janie MacCallum from feeling the pain of birthing. That, in itself, is a dire sin. I have been told that you have been teaching your sorcery to Rose Maitland, Janie's sister."
Isabella casts a disbelieving glare at the old priest. "So it is a sin now to ease a mother's pain? How can the church condone such torment unto any of its disciples?"
"Every woman must pay for Eve's original sin, foolish girl!"
Closing her eyes, Isabella takes a deep breath, telling herself that getting hot-headed now will not help her. Turning away from the priest, she pleads, "Laird, if I am to be punished for helping others, let me face a trial at least. I will be able to provide witnesses to prove my innocence." She watches as the Laird's eyes soften, probably remembering the time her mother had helped the Laird's wife give birth.
Hope blossoms in her breast that maybe the Laird will grant her a trial, until ...
"That is preposterous! My Laird, I urge you to punish this woman. You need to set an example for your clansmen about the severity of practising the dark arts."
Father Aro's words make the softness disappear from the laird's eyes and looking straight ahead, he decrees, "The witch is to be burned at the stake at sundown on the morrow."
In the darkness, she sits with her head bent forward. Tears roll down her cheeks, unbeknownst to her. She wishes she had her mother with her. Mama would know what to do, she thinks with anguish.
The irony of the situation does not escape her as she remembers it all vividly. Grasping her mother's hand as the two of them ran away through the night. They were fleeing from the superstitious people who believed her mother to be a sorceress.
After their escape to Scotland, her mother had thought that they were safe. However, she had not counted that their gifts of healing could be seen as a violation of the church.
The squeaking sound of the gate to her cell opening, brings Isabella back to the present. She looks up from her lap to find young Jacob MacCallum standing before her. "Jake?"
The lad kneels next to her and looks at her bound hands with distaste. "I am sorry, Mistress Isabella," he says. The fifteen-year-old offers her a sad smile. "My Mama used to tell me how Mistress Swan had helped her when she was birthing me. She considered your mama as her friend."
"I know," Isabella answers with a small smile. "She was heartbroken when Mama died. I remember."
Jacob nods. "I wish I could help you, Mistress, but I cannot overthrow my father's rule."
"Thank you, Jake. I appreciate that you do not want me to be burned."
Frowning at her, he says slowly, "Neither does my father. He is simply afraid of Father Aro."
"Afraid of Aro?" Isabella cannot help but scoff. "Aro is an old man, Jacob. How can the Laird fear him?"
"He fears that Father Aro will hold him in contempt of the church and thus will doom his soul for eternity."
Isabella feels a sardonic smile come over her face. "So it is not just us, the Devil's pupils, who have to dread the fearsome, all-powerful Father Aro?"
Jacob shakes his head. "I am afraid not, Mistress. I … I want to help you," he starts. "But I am not of age yet."
"What do you mean?"
"I had to learn the laws of Clan MacCallum for my studies, and there is one way you can be saved from the fire," he reveals. "If a warrior or a knight of the King were to duel to the death for your honor and win, all the claims of witchcraft against you will be proven false. It shall be considered God's decree that He wants you to be spared and hence He has made your champion victorious. However, I am not yet of age to present myself to the Laird to become a warrior."
The look of despair on his face makes Isabella smile kindly. "Do not fret, Jake. Maybe my magic will cool down the flames to help me at the last moment," she says with a wink.
On the inside, she feels her heart dropping to her stomach knowing that in no way can she be saved now.
A/N: Just to clarify it, Isabella was just jesting with Jacob to make him relax, she's not actually a witch. :P
Share your thoughts with me and leave a review.
Thanks for reading.
Here's the teaser for tomorrow:
"A woman has been accused of witchcraft," the soldier answers. "She is to be burned at the stake at sun down."
See you tomorrow.
Take care.
Ann
