I’m sorry soo sorry you had to wait so long for this part, just had to much stress to find a quiet minute to write. I’m still not satisfied with it, but it has to work, I’m to tired to go through it again………..
And I’m afraid this part won’t give you answers either. Just more questions about what will happen but I promise, we’re heading for the showdown. Just two or three more scenes and the ‘firework’ will start.
Tara frowned as she realized that Willow hadn’t said a single word for some time now. It was…. Well it was so not Willow. Especially with what was going on in the fairy tale. Her lover had commented throughout the whole story so far but now? Nothing. Just…… silence.
“Honey?” the blonde asked worried and frowned. Willow was laying next to her, her whole body tense. Her arms were over her chest, her lower lip shoved into one of her trademark pouts and her chin rested on her chest. Tara sighed inwardly. Grumpy Willow. Grumpy Willow mixed with sick-as-a-dog Willow. A dangerous mixture. A mixture she had to deal with now.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” she tried again to get Willow’s attention that was directed at the wall in front of her. She brushed an imaginary strain out of Willow’s face using the opportunity to check the warm forehead.
Still no answer, not even the slightest move.
Tara sighed. This time audible. “Spill it before you’re gonna explode.” She requested.
A low growl escaped the redhead’s lips and she shifted a little bit but still didn’t answer.
“Willow!” This time she admonished the redhead. She had a slight suspicion what was bothering her lover. “Spill it. It’s eating you up.”
Willow sat up straight and looked deep into her lover’s eyes, a trace of disapproval in her deep green eyes. “Of course it’s eating me up.” She spat out. “What do you think. The Count nearly raped Tasha.” She raised her hands. “but I said nothing. Nope, not a single word.” She closed the imaginary zipper at her mouth. “You told me often enough not to interrupt the story. So I stayed calm, the kind of calm where you don’t say a word, not the being calm inside part. But it isn’t getting better, only worse. A court? They have no chance. But I said nothing, so you’ll continue.” She fell back onto her pillow and crossed her arms again. “So continue…….. I want the bad part of the tale to be over as soon as possible, before I do something ill-considered, like beating the count to death or I’ll tie him at a horse to drag him over the whole kingdom. I’m sure it’s a big kingdom. Or we take two horses and tie him to both of them and then………” Her hands tore the count into two parts. “But I’m saying nothing. Not a single word.” She repeated her words, the pout back on her face.
“Oh Willow.” Tara began.
“Don’t ‘Oh Willow’ me.” The furious redhead warned her. “I’m doing the staying-calm part here and the ‘Oh Willow’ thing doesn’t help it. Go on.”
The waiting was eating her up. Clare shifted uncomfortable in her seat anxious not to touch the filthy bodies next to her. She couldn’t bear their touch. Clare was caught between her mother on her right side and Phillip on the left. Her father was absent again, somewhere hunting.
She clenched and unclenched her hands in the try to work off some of the tension that cramped her body. The urge to reach out and slap the count, to scratch his eyes out and skin him alive was nearly overwhelming. But she had to stay calm, stay calm for Tasha. A false move could be devastating for her lover. The redhead closed her eyes and breathed deeply in and out.
She had learned that little exercise from Nana years ago as a child, when she was overexcited about a new book or a new discovery and had breathed too hard. Most of the time the world had spinned round and once she had even passed out. On that occasion the old nurse had decided that it was time for her to learn the exercise to control her breathing.
Clare blocked her surroundings from her mind and tried to imagine a calm and safe place. Anything to take her away from here. In the past it had been her library or Nana, she had fled to in her thoughts but the former safe places had been replaced. Replaced by Tasha. She hadn’t needed her exercise since she had met Tasha. The blonde’s nearness was everything she needed to calm down and be excited at the same time. And it wasn’t any different this time, when different pictures flooded her mind. Tasha in the apple grove under their tree, Tasha standing at the open window at night, illuminated by the cool moonlight, Tasha’s full lips slightly parted, closing the distance before they captured her own.
Love filled her as picture after picture of her lover played before her. She had to be strong. For her. Any ill-considered outburst from her would worsen her lover’s situation. Although how it could get any worse she didn’t allow herself to think about. She had to be strong now. Yesterday she had failed in being strong. There had only been pain and hurt…… but no strength when she lay in her room.
She had sobbed in Nana’s lap for hours till her nurse made her lay down into her bed that still smelled like Tasha. The old woman had pulled the blanked up and tucked her in. Then she leaned down; her old hand brushed a strain of red hair out of Clare’s forehead and replaced it with a soft kiss.
Desperately like a small kid, afraid of the darkness that surrounded her, Clare had grabbed the bony hand, green deep pools pleading the woman to stay with her, to protect her form the monsters that weren’t under her bed but outside her door. But she although knew that the old nurse had to go, that she already stayed too long and that every minute here with her could lead to unveiling. Steven’s shift would end soon and Nana had to be gone by then at the latest.
Then she would be alone again, alone with her fears. For a moment Nana had left her room to get something from hers. When she returned she carried a mug and a small phial from which she trickled some drops into the hot water. She swivelled the mug and held it out to Clare.
Suspiciously at first Clare had looked at the mug and then at Nana. She didn’t want to take anything that would cloud her mind. She needed it clear for tomorrow.
“Drink.” Clare remembered that determined voice from her childhood. She had never been able to disobey it. It was a voice Nana only used when necessary and it had seldom been necessary cause Clare had been a good child. And now the voice was back, tolerating no protest.
Hesitantly Clare had taken the mug from Nana’s hands but before she pulled it to her lips she had looked again at the nurse, a silent question in her eyes.
“It’ll help you sleep, no more and no less.” Nana had promised her then. “You need to be strong tomorrow and you won’t be strong without sleep.”
Nevertheless she hadn’t slept easy. Her dreams had been filled with the events of the past day. Images of the Count touching Tasha, her lover’s whispered words when they had separated them. Her mother as she listened to Phillip and her furious destruction of her room were mixed with memories of happy times, when Tasha had kissed her or had held her in the night. Her mind also showed her different things, like the priest searching through her library, destroying her books as he pulled them from their places onto a big pile, to burn them. But the worst were the images of Tasha, sitting terrified in a dark corner of a wet and flighty cell. She whispered her lover’s name as she tossed about in her sleep but Tasha didn’t answer.
She had awaken alone and dizzy. After a moment of confusion about the mess in her room and why she had awoken alone the painful memory returned.
And now she was here. In the court. The big room had already been overcrowded when she entered it. The heat and smell of that many bodies standing close to each other had struck her and made her stumble back but the guard at her side had held her and led her to her seat in the front row.
When they had crossed the room she recognized many faces. The inhabitants of the castle were there and a lot of people she had met at night out in the streets of the city. If they knew it had been Tasha who helped them or if they were just there for the show she couldn’t say. But somehow she hoped they knew what a wonderful person Tasha was and that they were here to give her the strength she had given them before.
The inevitable mass of gapers were there too, they stretched their necks to get a better look when she walked by and whispered to each other, excitement glittering in their eyes. She detested them. She had detested them from the first night on, as she strolled with Tasha along the main street, tavern next to tavern. She had learned to recognize the face of the pleasure-seeking mass. And today it looked her straight in the eyes. They came here to be entertained and Clare knew the priest well enough to know that he wouldn’t disappoint them. His audience here was three times bigger than the one that filled his church every Sunday. He wouldn’t miss that opportunity.
But there were other familiar faces too. Far in the back, pressed against a wall she saw Elizabeth. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw the old woman in the crowd. She shouldn’t be here. It was too dangerous. If the priest saw her it might be enough for him to accuse her of witchcraft too. Elizabeth herself had told her how dangerous he was and that he looked suspiciously at everything the soulwomen did. Till now he hadn’t found any evidence against them. But in a dangerous and distrustful world like today it might be enough to be in a room with a witch, even if there were one hundred other people.
Their eyes locked and Clare shook her head slightly, motioning her to leave. The old woman smiled sadly at her but stayed. She knew the risks but had decided to stay.
As Clare’s eyes traveled further through the room they met Nana’s clear gray gaze. The nurse had obviously watched her for some time, waiting for the princess to acknowledge her. ‘Be strong’ Nana’s eyes whispered to her. She nodded barely visible and the two women held their gaze till Nana turned slowly around to face the judge’s table.
Clare followed her gaze. Everything was ready and waiting. To both sides of the judge’s table stood a court usher. With an expression of disinterest they stared into the mass, radiating their superior feeling. But as big as they might have felt under the big with colors and pathos overloaded paintings on the walls they were as small as everyone else.
Each one of the six pictures that covered the walls all around retold one origin of the kingdom. Painted history to impress the folk to teach them humility for their leaders. But the folk had to look up to be impressed and no one wanted to miss the entrance of the main players. These people weren’t impressed with history or affectation.
Their interest today lay with the witch’s trial.
The mass became more and more restless, whispers growing louder until the noise filled the hall’s arch in anticipation. The indifferent growl built up till Clare could feel the vibration of sounds in her bones. The growl rushed through her veins increasing her already hardly bearable tension.
Sometimes a single voice, a conversation broke the indifferent noise that surrounded Clare and every time she whished she didn’t have to hear the gossip the voices discussed. They told each other horrible stories about what Tasha had allegedly done. And with every new voice that broke through her barrier Tasha’s atrocity grew till she sat next to the devil himself at his table.
She couldn’t take any more. She prayed for the trial to begin just to stop the voices that gathered in her mind. Nothing could be as terrible as these voices. Every minute passing by added to her torture.
She had to see Tasha, had to witness with her own eyes that the blonde was unharmed.
Finally the door to her right opened and for a second the room fell silent just to burst out in cheers as the priest stepped into the courtroom.
Unimpressed of the tumult he caused and without giving his audience a look, the priest passed the hall to the table at the left. Just a few steps behind him, in a slightly too long habit, a young and nervous looking priest, his arms loaded with books and papers, followed his older superior. His eyes darted hunted through the room, the numbers of screaming people visible frightening him. A disapproving gaze from the old priest and the young man flinched but then he hurried to the old man to hand him his papers.
With a small grunt as answer the priest began to search through his records sorting it in three piles, he had set up before him on the table. He still didn’t look up or at least noted the encouraging shouts from the audience.
The lion was here, waiting for its prey.
And then the next door opened, this time to her right. The door Tasha had to come through.
Like everyone else Clare racked her neck to get a better look. The room fell silent as their attention was drawn to the door and the dark floor behind it.
And then she saw her. Guided by two guards that held her by her arms she walked into the room. It pained Clare to see her chained up, standing between the two huge guards. She looked so small and fragile, even more as her body had lost its spark. Not once, not even as she entered the room she looked up, her head stayed downcast, her shoulders slumped down. She even wore the same ruined clothes she had seen her last in, now covered by a woolen shawl, Clare had never seen before. At least she didn’t seem to be hurt or injured. Clare searched every inch of her lover for any sign of torture but to her relief she found none.
She needed to see Tasha’s eyes, needed to look into the blue pools, even if she could only guess their shade from the distance. If Tasha looked up, their eyes could met and she could send all the love and hope she had to her lover. She wanted to give her the strength she needed to get through this trial. For once she wanted to be the one Tasha could lean onto. She wanted to be strong for her. But how could she do this, if her girlfriend refused to look up.
Tasha knew she was here and still she didn’t search the room for her. In her mind she called out to her, praying to her to look up but Tasha didn’t react. She had reached the table at the right side in front of the judge’s seat. The blonde sat down, shamefully hiding her hands in chains under the table.
Tasha was so close to her she only had to walk over to her, not more than 10 maybe15 steps and she would be with her, she would cup her face and force her softly to look up at her, to acknowledge her. Just 20 steps more and they would be out of this room.
Clare felt her façade crumble down around her. Where her strength should be she only felt emptiness. She didn’t need the deep blue pools to look at her to give Tasha strength, she needed her strength. She was dependent on it, like she always had been. She couldn’t go through this trial without Tasha acknowledging her and promising her, that everything would be fine at the end…. Somehow.
Fixated by her lover’s sight Clare hadn’t noticed the judge entering the room. He was already at his seat, in his right hand the small stick and at his side the silver shimmering judge’s sword to pass sentence.
The stick was the one thing Clare really dreaded. If the judge broke it at the end of the trial it would seal her death. Just the thought of this sent a shiver through her body. She knew that being only accused of witchcraft was as good as the sealed death penalty.
But the stick was unbroken right now and as long as it stayed this way there was hope. And it was all she had.
With a disapproving gaze and a raised eyebrow the judge silenced the room in an instant. He was known for his sense of justice but he was also known and feared for his tough actions and nobody was keen to be on the receiving end of his actions.
He laid his insignia on the table in front of him and read through the paper that one of the ushers had handed him. He looked up from the paper and at Tasha, to examine her carefully. Feeling his gaze the blonde shrank even more. A small frown whooshed over the judge’s face and he read the paper again before, he gave it back to the usher with a nod.
The charges that were raised against Tasha didn’t surprise Clare. For a witch trial there was nothing new or revealing. The same accusations like always, dancing with the devil at a hill at full moon, bewitching people with her evil eye. Every single charge was ridiculous and Clare would have laughed out loud if it weren’t for the threat of death these accusations implied.
After the usher had ended the judge began to speak. He leaned forward at his table and with a paternal voice he addressed Tasha. “You’ve heard the charges against you. Do you plead guilty or not?” He asked her.
All eyes in the hall turned to Tasha but the blonde didn’t answer. She didn’t even seem to notice that the judge had talked to her. “Girl,” there again was his soft voice, like he tried to capture a bird, afraid it might fly away if he startled it, or like he would talk to his grandchild. “Did you understand the serious accusations you are charged with?”
This time Tasha looked up and their eyes met. For a moment he and Tasha gazed at each other before the judge broke the contact and Tasha lowered her head again.
Heavily the man sat back before he gazed at Tasha again. A moment passed before he talked again. “She disclaimed an advocate?” he asked the court usher, receiving a nod as answer.
Of course there was no advocate to defend Tasha. No advocate was stupid enough to defend an accused witch, at least as long as he didn’t want to be the next he had to defend in a trial against witchcraft. Not all the money she had collected for their farm could have bought Tasha an advocate, Clare knew as well as everyone else in the room.
Tasha was at the priest’s mercy and he was for sure a man who didn’t know this word. And now it was his time to demonstrate it.
The priest stood up and turned to the audience. For a long moment his eyes traveled over the gathered people, a small smile spreading over his thin lips. It was a cruel smile that never reached his eyes and that turned Clare’s stomach into a knot.
She had never in her whole life seen this man smile and she hoped she would never see it again.
“Your honor, those present……… This person.” His outstretched finger, formed like a claw, pointed at Tasha, causing the blonde to flinch. “is accused of witchcraft.” He made a pause fraught with significance to lock his eyes with some of the audience’s that were directed at him, giving them the impression he would talk to them personally. “She is dangerous.” He continued. “She harmed a lot of people, honest people like yourself and if we don’t stop her.” Here he took a deep breath. “She could harm you, your wife or….” He fixated a young mother, cradling her baby in her arms “….or even your innocent children.” Under his inquisitorial eyes the mother squirmed and pressed her child closer to her chest in an act of protection.
“These innocent people will tell you themselves about the devilish things she did to them One by one they will tell you what devil lives among you good people.”
“Burn her.” An old woman screamed from the back, followed by approving cheers.
The words cut right through Clare’s heart. Never before she had experienced so much hate. They didn’t know Tasha, they just had the priest’s words to trust. But even now before he showed them his evidence and his witnesses they wanted to believe him.
Their cheers and shouts grew louder, each of them trying to outdo the other. Every new scream added to Clare’s pain. She gazed at Tasha, worried how the blonde might react. But she seemed oblivious to the fact, that the audience wanted her death. Her gaze directed at her lap, Tasha stared at her hands, her right thumb brushing over the rings of her chains. The action reminded Clare of the old women, she had often seen in churches on their knees, saying their Rosaries lost in their thoughts.
“Please look up.” She sent mentally to her lover. And still Tasha didn’t react. It hurt her more than the screams demanding her lovers death. She needed her to look up. Tasha was the strong one of them and now she needed her strength more than ever although it was selfish of her. She needed that deep blue eyes to look at her and tell her that everything was going to be alright.
Never before she had felt this lonely especially not with Tasha. Physically they were in the same room but the blonde seemed in her own world and she was not allowed into it.
The loud knocks of a sliver sword on a wooden table brought her out of her thoughts and silenced the tumult.
“Silence.” The judge’s severe voice echoed through the court.
After the calls had subsided the priest continued, presenting his witnesses. People who never had met Tasha before in their lives outside this court proclaimed she had bewitched them. They reported that she had looked at them at the street and one week later a cold had knocked them down. Of course it wasn’t a normal cold. It was worse and different, the slime they coughed had a different color or they could feel the devil lingering at the corner of their room. She had touched them and within a month a healthy and flexible person suddenly got gout or rheumatism. Tasha was responsible for the death of a cow or a harvest ruined by rain or hail. Some of them even had seen her riding on a broom through the night, of course naked, to meet the devil at the a near hill.
As many witnesses the priest presented, as many lies Clare heard this morning. But the mass loved them and believed them. And every single word that had left the witnesses’ mouth was written down by the clerk, saving them for eternity. Indifferently he wrote everything the liars said down. He didn’t distinguish between truth and lie. For him it were just words.
For the first time in her life Clare hated words. Books, pages filled with words, thousands of words, maybe millions of words had filled her library and she had read them all over and over again, believing every single one. How many lies had she trusted frankly?
The thought that someone someday would read about Tasha’s trial and would believe the written words made her sick. She could taste the bile on her tongue as she gulped.
People who didn’t know a single thing about Tasha, who never had looked into these soft blue eyes or heard her gentle voice would claim to judge her.
Judge her like the people in this court.
It was bad but maybe she could find a way to prove that the witnesses were lying. These false testimonies were all the priest had. Tasha had never harmed anyone.
But the priest wasn’t finished yet.
“Any other witnesses?” The judge asked him.
Slowly the priest raised from his seat and flipped through his papers, as if he had lost the overall view with that many witnesses. Like he had lost track of Tasha’s unforgivable sins.
His finger traveled down a long list of names till it stopped nearly at the bottom.
“Yes.” He answered, then he turned again to the audience. His audience. “We already heard people that barely know the witch, but nonetheless out of her corruption she harmed them, bewitched them. If she did these to strangers, what did she do to her own family? To the people who loved her nevertheless what she had done?”
Clare’s eyes widened in disbelief. Family? Like in father and brother? No he wouldn’t, he couldn’t…..
For the first time since the beginning of the trial, this nightmare Tasha had lifted her head. With big, shocked eyes she stared at the priest, as he called her father in.
Tbc………………