Womens Fates. Lucy
Oh Lucy, for heavens sake, I beg you, take my little Andrew to stay with you, my sister Dorothy pleaded, her voice trembling. Ive got a terrible feeling. My heart says something bad may happen. Better hes away for a while, than for me to lose my boy for good.
I turned and looked at frail little Andrew, perched on the bench near the range, his bony legs swinging like a childs. Once upon a time, Dorothy and I lived together. But years flew by, Dorothy, being the eldest, married Nicholas and moved to a far-off village. I, the younger, stayed behind with our ailing mother, who soon passed away. Our father had died of consumption long before Dorothys wedding. Mother raised us right we were kind and hardworking, always ready to help. Truth be told, even though Dorothy was older, I was always the head of the family. Dorothy was soft as butter easy to mould into whatever a person wished. Thats what Nicholas had seen in her, they made a lovely family. He doted on her.
I, on the other hand, am not to be trifled with: offer me so much as a finger in jest and Ill take off the whole hand. Proud and stern, I suppose one could say. And, so everyone said, a beauty to boot. The best young men from surrounding parishes came courting but I sent every one of them packing.
While Mother was alive, she always fretted:
Oh, my girl, youve got your great-grandmothers stubbornness. Be careful you dont share her fate, alone and unwanted in old age. Wholl take care of you then?
To these laments, I would just smile. I never argued I respected the old, and I had my own mind about such things.
My great-grandmother was no ordinary woman. She never married, had a child out of wedlock, yet lived a happy life. She was a healer used herbs and prayers for curing folk and lifting troubles. She never dabbled in dark matters or forced her services on anyone. People were wary of her, her temper was sharp.
I inherited that, not just the temperament. I learned her skills as a herbwife. I could tell my yarrow from my chamomile and knew a word or two for caring prayers. Who I called upon for my healing, well, nobody really knew, and let people think what they will. I walked through the village with pride, knowing my worth. I never refused help to anyone, especially children.
I dont understand you, Dorothy, I said, peering at Andrew, the boys fine, and youre talking as if hes half gone already.
Oh, Im frightened, Lucy, havent you heard whats happening in Hawthorne lately? Dorothy replied, a shiver in her voice.
I havent, I answered.
Well, children are dropping like flies. They sicken for weeks, then the Lord takes them.
Or is it really the Lord? I asked, raising an eyebrow.
I dont know, love. For a few years now, its as if a curse has fallen. Cant find a home where a child hasnt died, she crossed herself, pressing her hands together.
And whats the cause? Why hasnt anyone come to me?
Who knows? The child runs about healthy, then suddenly weakens and wastes away. Energy just drains away. As for not coming to you well, you live so far off, and theres a healer in the village, Dorothy said simply.
And how longs that been the case? I asked, raising my brows.
Since I moved to Nicholass, shed already set up there.
Why havent you ever told me about her?
What was there to tell? Shes just an old woman, does some healing, never hurts anyone. Can even cure a sick cow. But with children, its hopeless. No herbs or prayers work. You never asked about her before, but it came up now. So, will you take Andrew for a while?
Well, why not? I smiled, ruffling my nephews straw-coloured hair. He can stay as long as he likes.
Dorothy kissed her sons crown, crossed him, and made her way home.
Right then, I said to Andrew. Lets go into the orchard. Theres a redstart nesting in the woodpile Ill show you.
Andrew grinned, showing his crooked teeth, and reached for my hand.
***
Make way, weve got visitors! Dorothy shouted, bustling into my kitchen.
Mums here! Andrew squealed, running into her arms.
It had been six months since Dorothy left Andrew with me. Late autumn hung heavy in the sky, painting everything in slate. Dorothy visited a few times a month, each meeting marked by tears and hugs.
Oh, my darling boy, she cried, kissing her sons head. How Ive missed you! Your father is pining, wants to know when youre coming home.
I wiped my hands on my apron and hugged my sister tight.
So, how are you both? Dorothy asked, eyes never leaving her son.
Were well, Mum. Aunt Lucy gave me a kitten want to meet him? Andrew beamed, already halfway out the door.
Alls well, Dorothy, I answered. What brings you?
Its time, Lucy. Andrews been with you so long, soon hell be calling you Mum. Nicholas is pressing me to bring him home.
So youre to take him. Hows the village?
Praise be, things are better now. Not a single death since Andrews been here.
Just then, Andrew marched in, clutching his kitten.
Mum, Ive named him Tom. Hes my friend.
Well, there are plenty of mice in our barn. Hell have work to do, Dorothy replied, and yes, well take him with us.
While Andrew packed up his things, Dorothy and I chatted about life. She fretted over me starting my own family.
Give over, Dorothy, I said, laughing, you sound just like Mother. If its meant to be, Ill find a husband. For now, Im happy with my golden nephew. Dont you go forgetting me, Andrew. Tell your mum when you want to visit youll always be welcome here.
I could see how hard it was to let him go after these months together. Id grown used to his laughter and childish mischief.
Take care of the kitten, I told Dorothy softly. Hes Andrews, but hes also a gift from me.
As if Ive ever mistreated an animal! Dorothy scowled. I always put out an extra saucer of milk for Gods creatures.
Dont sulk, I was just saying. The baskets in the hall, pop Tom in for the journey. Daylights fading try to be home before dark.
We kissed goodbye. I hugged Andrew tight and made the sign of the cross as I let them go.
And so, life went on. Autumn gave way to winter. Deep drifts buried the roads, so much snow we could barely open the gate of a morning. Village life moves slowly in winter, but I always found work. Someone would bring a sick baby or ask for herbs for an aching parent. Days slipped by.
As the sun began to shine more often, snow started to melt. Brooks gurgled, birds chattered, and before I knew it there was spring, time to throw open the gates to warmth.
One day, as I was digging in the vegetable patch I heard a meow. Turning round, I saw Tom.
How did you get here? I gasped. Has something happened to Andrew?
Tom meowed again and rubbed his broad head against my ankles. Without a second thought, I packed my bag and popped round to old Mrs. Shepherd next door, asking her to watch my hens should I stay away the night.
Might be Ill stay at Dorothys, I explained. Keep an eye out till I return, Gran.
Given her agreement, off I went.
Walking along the woods, hearing birds everywhere, the world smelled of spring bliss. But unease prickled my heart; my pace quickened. Even before sunset, I could see rooftops in the distance. I flew down the lane and rushed into Dorothys cottage, barely able to breathe.
Lucy! Dorothy shrieked when she saw me. Oh, the disaster, the disaster! She flung her arms around me and dragged me to the back room.
Andrew lay on the bed, looking pale as death. Lips blue, translucent skin, breathing ragged.
Between sobs, Dorothy explained that after Christmas, Andrew wasnt himself. Hed run and played, but had no stamina, and a week ago he took to his bed.
Why didnt you fetch me sooner? I snapped, feeling Andrews forehead.
Oh, I dont know! Dorothy wailed. It was as if the roads were closed to me. If I tried to leave, Andrew got worse feverish, trembling. Id run back to him. We thought hed caught a chill sledging with the children. Later I was laid up too, feverish, weak. We tried raspberries and teas, it seemed to help. But when Andrew grew weaker, I tried to get to you, but the snows! Its been a dreadful winter.
And the village wise-woman, Mrs. Green I called her. She gave herbs, mumbled prayers, but Andrew just grew worse. I was planning to set off for you tomorrow, but you came yourself. Poor Tom he disappeared somewhere. Whenever Andrew stirs, he wants the cat, but no sign of him. Help us, Lucy! I cant go on if Andrew dies Ill do something dreadful!
Dorothy rocked and wept, clutching her head.
Dont worry over the cat. He came and fetched me. Smarter than you, as it happens, I said sternly.
How did he bring you? Dorothy blurted, startled.
Just did, I said, thinking. So, you said it was as if the way to me was blocked?
Yes, if I tried to leave, Andrew got worse. Id panic and rush back to him.
And tell me, sister, did Andrew take anything from strangers? Eat anything odd?
Oh, well, of course, they went round the houses on Christmas night for carols.
Every house? I pressed.
All of them. Especially raved about Mrs. Greens cakes.
Frowning, I looked at my wan nephew.
Go fetch that Mrs. Green, tell her to try a prayer over Andrew. But dont mention Im here. I want to see what she does.
Dorothy obeyed without question. While she was away, I undid my bag and pulled out two large darning needles. Hiding in the kitchen, I waited for their return.
Oh, Dorothy, Id love to help, but you see how hopeless it is, Mrs. Green cooed as she came inside. She took off her shawl and went into the back room. I slipped out, quietly stuck the two needles crosswise into the doorway above her head, and ducked back into hiding.
After a while, Mrs. Green came to leave but she paused, unable to step through the door. Sweating, she pretended to need to mumble something more over Andrew, and went back inside. A minute later, she tried again but found herself rooted, turning back, confused.
Whats the matter, Mrs. Green? Dorothy asked.
I feel so poorly, Dorothy.
Let me walk you home.
Just fetch me a glass of water, love.
While Dorothy was gone, I whispered to her from the kitchen to get the wise-woman back into the room, out of the hallway. As soon as they stepped out, I removed the needles and hid again. Mrs. Green drank her water, sat a moment, then made for the door, found her way unimpeded this time, and all but fled, Dorothy behind her with a forgotten scarf.
Dorothy returned to find me sitting by Andrews bed, my bag at my side.
Old spider, I muttered. Trying to drain the life from children, is she? Ill show her, the witch! I braided together three candles and placed them at Andrews head.
What are you doing, Lucy? Im not sure I like it, Dorothy asked, fearful.
Your healer is to blame for the children dying. Young lives overflowing with energy and shes at her dusk. Shes been siphoning their strength to stretch out her years.
Dorothy stood with her hand to her mouth, hair on end.
Heres what, Dorothy: leave me to it now, go and see to your husband. Come back at dusk and help me to bed. Im giving Andrew my own strength to save him from the spider-womans clutches. Worry about me later.
Dorothys tears flowed fast, but she left quietly.
Lighting the candles, I whispered prayers and lay down over Andrew, shielding him like a bird covers her chicks. I lost track of time, but was awakened by Dorothys gentle touch.
She helped me to bed and wrapped me up warm, the house stilled in evening gloom, a single lamp glowing before the saints’ pictures. I slept like the dead, knowing my nephew would be all right.
In the morning, sunlight poured in and the smell of hot bread drifted. Dorothy bustled in the kitchen, singing softly.
Hows Andrew? I asked.
She ran and hugged me, kissing my cheek.
Thank you, Lucy. Youve brought my boy back. He woke hungry, asked for breakfast.
I peeked at Andrew asleep, but the pink was returning to his cheeks.
Ill stay a few days and find a way to bring that healers work into the open, I said to Dorothy.
***
Im not well, Mrs. Green, I told the wise-woman, putting on a show. Theres a dark anger eating at me, I cant stand seeing my man turn to another.
I only wanted to know how she did her wicked work.
Oh, my dear, Mrs. Green said without missing a beat, I never dabble in black arts. I only help people.
Help me, I pushed. Is it fair? Ive suffered with my man for years, then she comes along and tries to steal him. Ill pay dearly if you help.
She hesitated, then agreed. Well, I see a kindred spirit in you. But dont tell a soul! Ill need a favour Ill bake you loaves; hand them out to the children in your village.
Why? I asked.
Thats not your concern. Think about your rival instead. Well send her a ghost to reck her home. Here, take these loaves, each with a spirit bound to it. I promise them living souls to suck, and they keep me going another year.
I took the bread and hurried straight home, leaving the old witch convinced Id pass them round. Instead, I dumped the lot on Dorothys table.
Look at what your healers been feeding the children!
Bread, Dorothy said. Breads not forbidden.
Ordinary bread, no. These are funeral loaves, each cursed to draw out childrens life. Mrs. Green made a deal with evil spirits. She gives them innocent souls, and in exchange they juggle the years for her.
Dorothy gasped, clutching her mouth.
But why sacrifice the children? she whispered.
Innocent souls, strong love for life thats what they want.
We have to get rid of these, I went on. In a way that makes the spirits turn on her instead. Well see about that. For now…
I crumbled the lot up and fed it all to the hens, then waited.
By the next morning Dorothy returned from fetching water at the well with juicy gossip.
Oh Lucy, old Mrs. Brown said she saw Mrs. Green at dawn and said she looked like death her skin like charcoal and shed aged twenty years. When Mrs. Brown tried to help, she was chased away with curses.
Means the spirits came for her but found nothing to eat but their own mistress, I laughed. Shes getting a taste of her own medicine.
Dorothy began crossing herself.
Really, Lucy, you frighten me sometimes. Shes still a living soul, after all.
Youre just like Mother, arent you. Youd feel for the Devil if you saw him hurting, I rolled my eyes. Anyway, time to finish this.
I shut myself in a room, drew the curtains, lit two candles and pulled out a rusty old lock. Under my breath I whispered:
If you speak, you vanish.
If you act, you turn to dust.
I lock up the powers you once possessed.
Quiet as a mouse, I muttered this, laying a binding on Mrs. Green.
Towards evening, I took the lock and went to the witchs door.
Mrs. Green? Are you there? I called out.
No reply. Opening the door, I found her collapsed by the fire.
Is that you, then? she croaked. What do you want? No energy left, Im dying.
Of course you are. Feeding devils isnt easy work.
Her eyes bulged.
So you did this! she spat. They tormented me all night, nearly dragged my soul out!
What souls that, then? I laughed. You spider! How many children have you killed? Wished for immortality, did you? Hells what youll get.
I turned to leave, and she staggered after me onto the porch, shrieking:
Ill curse you! Ill send every devil after you!
Oh really? You think only you can cast spells? I replied coolly. Take a look at the latch.
She turned saw the lock Id hung and screamed. She clutched her hair, realising Id sealed her power.
Thought youd act with impunity your whole life, did you? If you ever try again, youll crumble to dust before your time. The devils will be delighted to greet you!
I left her wailing, not looking back once.
***
Two months have passed since then. Andrew recovered quickly. Mrs. Green died a month later. Once she broke faith with her helpers and stopped feeding them, they took her instead. She died in agony, her cries heard through half the village.
Since then, Ive been the only healer around for several miles. I carry the burden honestly would never sell my soul to the dark. I treat the people and their animals, work hard and keep to myself. Still, I havent had any luck finding a husband. Doesnt trouble me much few could put up with my nature anyway.
Oh Lucy, Dorothy sighs, if only youd soften up and be more yielding, youd soon find a husband and children.
Without a bit of spirit, youd never fight off the devils, Dorothy, Id laugh. And if I have no children, so be it maybe thats just my fate.
Id kiss my nephew on the head, and Andrew, healthy now, comes to visit me from their village several times a month, sometimes for days at a time, showering me with the love of a child.
