Élisabeth stared blankly.
“One of the Haudenosaunee Confederacy.” Jeanne gave her a defiant look, then let out a deep sigh. “She’s Iroquois, Élisabeth.”
“Iroquois! You… you will spend the winter with… the Iroquois?”
Jeanne Roy tipped her head back to laugh. “Why should I not?”
“Because they are our enemies! Sister Gagnon says they—”
“I’m not in the least bit interested in what that nun says.”
“But are you not frightened of them?”
“No. I am intrigued by them. Wari says in her village grandmothers have the final say in all matters. They decide what crops shall be planted, what punishment the guilty deserve, who shall marry whom. Just think what we could learn from the Haudenosaunee! Had we French half their sense, I might not have been saddled with either of my husbands.” Jeanne Roy folded her hands and looked suddenly chagrined, as if she regretted speaking so freely.
“You’ve been married before?”
“Yes, Élisabeth. I am not the first widow to take a ship to the New World in search of a better life.”
“Forgive me,” Élisabeth said quickly. She knew she must not pry; Marthe said she must flatter and encourage the witch to look well upon her so that she would grant the wish she’d promised. “What a burden to have been widowed so young.”
“I am not in need of your pity.”
Élisabeth could not put a foot right. She shut her mouth and thought ofhow to put the witch in a generous mood. Jeanne Roy stood to reach for a pitcher of water, pouring it into the cauldron hanging above the fire. As it hit the hot iron, the water hissed and the steam rose, drawing out the dank animal smell of the cabin. Jeanne Roy pinched leaves off bundles of herbs lying on the stone hearth and added them to the cauldron.
“I have not talked about my life in France for many months. Francoeur warned me I would want for company alone here in the woods. Perhaps he was right.”
“You may confide in me,” Élisabeth offered, seeing her chance. “I too have a past I do not speak of. And a very grave problem. Though I believe you can help me.”
The witch looked up from stirring the cauldron. “What makes you thinkIcan help you?”
“I… I… it was my sister’s idea. Marthe suggested it. Without your help a fate worse than anything you can imagine awaits me.”
“I can imagine a great many terrible things,” Jeanne Roy said softly. “I doubt your fate is worse than any of them.” She gave Élisabeth a long look. “It is true that I have helped many women in my time, though I am curious how your sister came to know it.” She paused and spoke in a low voice. “Are you worried about bearing a child?”
“Yes. I am. Can you see it just by looking at me? Can you tell that I am barren?”
“Barren?”
“I cannot bear children.”
“I… I thought you were concerned about beingwithchild.”
“No!” Élisabeth recoiled, realizing the witch’s meaning. “Quite the opposite. I am barren. Cursed to be childless forevermore.”
Jeanne Roy narrowed her eyes. “How do you know that you cannot bear children?”
“I will tell you my entire story willingly, if you promise to help me.”
“Of course I will help you,” Jeanne Roy said, placing her hand on Élisabeth’s shoulder. The witch’s touch made the demon Marcosi twist in a circle and whine, knowing his end was near. “It is what I have trained to do.”
Élisabeth realized then the breadth of Jeanne Roy’s power: not just a witch of forest and fable, but a sorceress withtraining, with knowledge that could surely defeat the rustic spells of the Winter Witch, a hag of no standing compared to her. Élisabeth felt a wave of relief wash over her. She laid her hands in her lap and cleared her throat.
“Shortly after my two brothers died, my father grew ill. To pay for his treatment I went into service. The eldest son in the family favoured me with his affection and soon we were in love.”
Jeanne Roy made an indistinct sound. Élisabeth studied the witch but she continued to stir her potion without comment.
“My family was poor, and I had no dowry. Rémy’s parents thought more of themselves than they ought to have done and would have never consented to our marriage. So Rémy came up with a scheme that would force his mother’s hand.”
