Chapter 11: From Wrath to Ruin
"…when oft I pass them shadowed realms of yonder
my eyes I cast aside and search for others
that hath believed so truly, as I once did,
upon the promise of a life lived.
In goodness and holy truth
silent thou shalt ever lie in sleep,
and when need of thee arise
to the dawn I'll cast mine eyes
for thou art gone from this stricken life."
- Excerpt from the remains of a Keltish holy book. Passage 23:23
The hammering of knuckles, of bone, flesh and muscle came quickly upon the door.
Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!
Padma grabbed in the dark for a shawl which she very soon found, and wrapped it around herself. Upstairs, the girls awoke from their deep sleep and threw off their blankets. The stone cold wood beneath their feet jolted them and they stumbled, bumping into each other before rushing to the window and peering outside into the pre-dawn lit village.
Below stood seven men at least, garbed in the fog from their breath and dark woollen coats. The smell of oil and torchwood drifted up to the girls and they pressed their hands against the frost as though pressing against the advance of an unwanted suitor.
"Open this door immediately!" came voice from outside.
"One minute…!" the girls heard their mother shout back.
Faye and M opened the door in the floor and rushed down the attic ladder just as Padma opened the front door of the cottage.
Moving slowly to their mother who stood in open doorway enshrouded by light, the first phrases spoken by the torch men was lost to the girls. Yet soon the decree being given by the man behind the light of the torches became clear.
"… Will seize all property—"
"—what?"
"All monetary funds and items of value and/or suspicion will also be placed into the care of High Council—"
"—but my children—"
"—until such a time is designated in which items of heritage may be passed to descendants."
"What did you say…?" Padma muttered. She was as stiff as the stones in the stream. M clasped her mother's hand tighter and Faye let loose a barely inaudible no.
"—and will escorted to Garchär*—"
"—please…" Padma tried. "My children—"
"—Are children no more," Malheur stated, "but if they wish they may accompany you to trial. In death they might guide your pitiable soul towards redemption."
The torch men seized Padma.
"No! No no no…!" M screamed as the torch men began to drag Padma away.
"No!" Faye cried out. "No, stop! Please…! Mama! No!"
M latched onto one of the torch men dragging her mother away. Wrapping her arm around his neck M squeezed until her victim gagged, but he quickly threw her off as though she were nothing more than a mosquito. Thud. M fell on her arse. The frozen, muddy soil did nothing to cushion the impact.
Padma, screaming like a wounded bear, broke free of the two men that held her, butchering their faces with her nails, and raced towards where M lay in the dirt. Faye rushed forwards driving her shoulder into the ribcage of one Malheur's henchmen.
"AHHggg—" wrapping his hands around her neck, one of the torch men threw Faye to the ground.
"No!" Padma hollered again, sliding to a stop between where M lay sprawled in the dirt and where Faye was now screaming for help.
"SOMEBODY!" Faye screamed. Her voice resonated throughout the village. "HELP! No! Get your hands OFF ME…! PLEASE, HELP! HELP US! Get your—no! No! Stop it!"
"Let go of her you—!" Padma shouted vehemently as Faye continued the wrestle against the brawny torch man of Malheur's. "Don't you dare—" Padma began before she too was grabbed by three torch men.
M stumbled to her feet. "… You bastard!" she shrieked, rushing towards Malheur who stood a few feet from the scene. "You BASTARD!" M shrieked again slapping Malheur across his face. Spit flew from her lips, striking Malheur's elegant robes.
Malheur scurried away, followed by two of his henchmen as Faye screamed violently again.
White noise sparked like embers in a too-hot fire. Crashing down and assailing the eardrums as though they were an everlasting sea of icy, white crested waves breaking upon towering rock cliffs.
Hollow wails and tethered beast. The raging mother and feast of screams fill the air, but our girl does not hear. Our M does not move with the whorls of snowy wind that sweep over the freezing skin of her mother's bare feet and hands as she cries in agony.
A girl in the dirt, as exposed as the earth, is lying on her back. Her skin is chaffing from the jagged rocks in the frozen, exposed soil. Her knees and shins turn white as the hair upon them stands erect, shivering. Her backside is bruising against the rocks as her nightshift is pushed over her hips.
A break in the waves. The ocean floor is seen.
A fist met M's lips, the blow sending her face first into ground. The nightshift she wore ripped at the knee; the fabric was as fragile as a moth's wings from age. M spat. Blood, mixed with soft, rosy pink pieces of flesh from the inside of her mouth, sprayed the ground.
"Hhh," M gasped, an almost sigh-like sound, faster than a cough or pant.
Padma cried again. "Stop this! Stop! Get away from my daughters or I'LL KILL YOU…! AHHHGGGRR! NO! No no…! Get OFF her NOW! You bastards!"
"Get off me…!" M growled as the torch man who hit her rolled her over onto her back, pressing her down with a hand on her ribcage, and on her shoulder.
"YOU BASTARDS…!" Padma screamed like a wild boar in fright. The three men who had seized her struggled as Padma pushed and fought against them using all her bodyweight.
"—SONS OF BITCHES! I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU SONS OF BITCHES…!" Padma gnashed the face of the youngest torch man restraining her. The sour metallic tinge of the man's blood coated Padma's teeth; dribbling into her mouth as she ripped apart his cheek and neck.
Faye moaned softly raising her arms to push away the weight on top of her. He covered her mouth in response, continuing. Faye could smell the grimy mud and oil from the torches in the lines and blisters of the hand covering her mouth. It was the same smell she would often come across when working on the garden. Handfuls of dirt as dry and lifeless as dead leaves in late autumn slipping through her fingers… spewing back the water she tried to feed it; a floating dark brown film over her eyes.
"Stop!" M muttered through clenched teeth as the torch man tried to push up her nightshift with one hand and hold her down with the other.
"Ahhg!" M coughed as his hand closed over her throat and squeezed.
Stopping her wild kicks for a moment, M tried to pry loose the skinny fingers circling her air pipe. The torch man dropped himself onto M, he weighed not much more than she, M could feel his ribcage through his heavy tunic and coat.
"YOU BASTARDS! NO! NO…! MY GIRLS! BASTARDS!" Padma's cries slowly faded and slurred as a gag was shoved into her blood coated mouth.
xxx
The young man, whose cheek and neck the witch had ripped apart with her teeth, dragged himself into the wagon the torch men had brought with them. Into it the witch was tossed as carelessly as one tosses a bag of coal. Her hands and feet were bound with a series of ropes and rags that reeked of horse and rot. The two other men were left behind to deal with the witch's girls and amass everything in the small, rundown cottage for High Council.
xxx
He was grunting, trying to hold down M with his body while his hand was still around her throat. M heard the click of his belt buckle unsnap. No, her mind cried. M loosened one hand to beat against the shoulder of her attacker before dropping it. She was hungry; she was tired and shivering from the cold.
M felt the icy dirt brush against her fingers. She heard Faye scream again and fumbled around feeling the ground above her head. Yes. M extended her arm and dug her fingers into the dirt, crying as she scraped her palm on the jagged gravel imbedded in the soil. Clasping her treasure firmly in her hand M raised her arm and swung.
Crack! And then, crush. M drove the rock in her palm into the head of her aggressor. Breaking, like the shell of a hardboiled egg under a spoon, the torch man cradled his head where he had been stuck, and rolled off of M.
M struck him again and he slumped forwards onto his hands and knees, crawling. She threw dirt, gravel, mud, stones, anything within her reach, at the torch man as he staggered away cursing her.
M grasped her jagged rock tightly and stumbled to her feet. Faye was still and silent beneath her assailant.
Smash! M ran forwards and launched her rock at the man's head, the power of a canon in the strength of her arm. M then picked up a small log and beat Faye's assailant from off of her.
"You bastard!" M spat and she brought her club down upon the man again and again and again.
M did not say another word as she sat down upon the chest of the torch man and began to beat his face with a stone. His nose broke as M swiped the stone across his face. She broke his teeth, making enamel, spit and blood splatter across his face. He did not struggle and began to choke.
His gums were already rotted: his breath reeked. M hit him harder.
Crunch went his cheekbone as the log sank into his flesh, turning the sallow bearded face into a mask of red and dark maroon.
M breathed heavily. Slowly she lifted herself off of the torch man's chest. She dropped the stone and it fell with a dull thump.
Silence.
M continued to look down upon the face that bore the marks of her blows. Oh God, she thought. Oh God.
"Hhh!" Faye inhaled sharply.
"Faye." M rushed over to her sister who still lay in the dirt a few feet away, covering herself with her hands. "Fayevin…" M whispered pushing her sister's matted hair away from her eyes.
Faye did not meet her sister's gaze. Instead she pulled at her nightshirt once more covering her thighs and the bruises that were forming there. M looked at her sister and scooped her up into her arms like a child. Faye rested in M's lap, silent and unmoving till they both began to shiver.
A few lone snowflakes floated down to rest on Faye's hair and eyelashes, sparkling brilliantly before disappearing. Faye and M did not speak and the village stayed hushed, shamefaced, as the sky began to lighten to a dull greyish pink. M clutched Faye tightly, wrapping her arms around her sister's neck and shoulders. M pulled them both to their feet.
Faye leaned on M, relying on the strength of M's body to keep her afloat in the frosty dawn. One arm she wrapped around her not-so-little sister's waist, the other clung to the back of M's nightshift as they shuffled out into the middle of the road.
Faye thought she could smell the sweet, tangy scent of ripe oranges as she buried her face in M's hair, and the distinct tinge of cinnamon on her breath as they stood so close together. But no more than a dream... Their breath turned to vapour in the same way that frost coats the earth, now desiccated. The girls had not caught the last glimpse of their mother as she had been dragged away, bound and gagged like a beast to slaughter.
* Garchär is Welsh for jail.