The lass giggled and her friends crowded around, eager to hear something new or exotic.
Astrid smiled, recognizing herself in their enraptured expressions. Ignoring her mother, who now sulked beside her, she addressed the man. “Any news at all would be welcome, of that I am certain.”
Her mother flashed her usual disapproving expression, but Astrid merely sighed. Fintan leaned forward now, keeping Astrid within his sight.
“Ah, I have a gruesome tale, if ye’re of a mind to hear it.”
The young girls glanced at each other, nodding as if they’d been offered something quite delectable.
“That would be very entertaining.” It was the first girl who answered him, her eyes wide in anticipation.
Fintan took another long pull from his horn before beginning. “A few villages away, there was a burning. A burning at the stake.”
Astrid’s stomach tightened.
The girl’s giggles died off, but their attention never wavered, their expressions shifting to fear as he continued.
“’Twas the woman that lived the farthest away from the rest, on the land she’d gained from her father as a dowry, though she’d never married. She had been warned before by theirrito keep to her work at the loom and stop dealing in the dark arts. She had been called out as a witch.”
“A witch,” the first girl repeated, her voice awed.
“She was well known among the villagers, but they kept their distance, of course. The priest himself had warned her about her dealings with the devil, though she had vehemently denied any such wrongdoing.” He divided his attention between his avid listeners, pausing for effect.
“On the full moon last, she had told the woodman to be weary of the coming rains, that his wood should be moved lest the flooding send it all downstream.” Fintan searched the faces intent on him for a long, quiet moment before speaking again. “There had been no sign of rain that day.”
The first girl turned to her friends. “Do ye remember? There was such a dry spell? Right before Diarmuid and his men went off in search of his wife?”
“A terrible rain.”
Fintan smiled when they turned their attention back to him. “They said the rain came without warning. That only a Seer in league with the devil could have known it would come.”
Astrid gulped, her hand on her silver goblet, unable to bring the drink closer to her mouth. Unable to move at all.
“They burned her at the stake like a witch.” The man turned his gaze from one to the next of those sitting closest to him. Astrid had been so intent on his story, she had not noticed the crowd that had gathered around them, four and five deep. “And like a witch, a Seer cannot be allowed to live.”
“Did ye watch the entire thing? Her flesh bursting into flames? Her screams?” It was the first girl again, but it became obvious she was asking what they all wanted to know with their wagging heads and wild, staring eyes.
Fintan shrugged, sipping from his horn again, feigning a disinterest that Astrid questioned the sincerity of. Surely a man with such a heart for these tender stories would feel the pain of so horrendous a death.
“I have seen many burned alive,” Fintan said. “’Tis not pleasant.”
“A terrible punishment!” Astrid said.
“Well-deserved!” Beibhinn chimed in, her voice ringing with indignation. “And the scriptures clearly state we cannot suffer a witch to live.”
“I believe the scriptures also say anysinneris no better than a witch.” Astrid said, turning her wide, blue eyes on the man. Compelled to speak despite the strong sense of foreboding filling her, she ignored her mother’s censuring glare. “…and certainly we are all of us sinners.”
“True. We are all sinners,” Fintan replied.
“Do we all deserve to be burned alive?” Astrid asked.
“Ah, Astrid, yer father often spoke of yer kind heart,” Fintan said. “Always caring for the downtrodden.”
“As we areallcalled to do.” She had to force the words out, but the man’s expression was gentle. Not at all like he had taken offense.
“And so we are.” Fintan leaned back, rubbing his neck, his expression weary. “The punishment was not objected to by any of the villagers.”
The lasses had their bit of gossip and wondered off, chattering among themselves, until Joan dispersed them to see to their duties. The celebration, subdued as it was, would continue for many hours yet.
