Justric

The Witch Trials

The scarecrow of an old man was waiting for her in his chair, brooding. He was obviously disturbed by the turn of events, soldiering on in his role as the preacher despite lingering reservations. Frankly, this worried Ebenezer to a degree: his father had always been a man of towering will and dominance, a man who seemed to know the world and the people within it for what they were and was never easily swayed. Now, huddled within the wooden armchair, it was becoming obvious that Reverend Stone was nearing the end of his days. "Father," he announced dispassionately, "This is Mirabella."

Ebenezer did not let go of Mirabella's hand as he presented her to his father, though his grasp was light and gentle in her fingers.

Sighing again, Reverend Stone looked up at her from hooded eyes, a frown dancing about his lips as he debated the wisdom behind any of this. Only he had already agreed. Praise-God Stone was a man known to always keep his word in the end, a reputation that Ebenezer had ensured would remain intact by settling his debts. "Mirabella," he began with a wheeze, "My son has told me that the two of you wish to be wed. He and I have discussed this matter and your situation to... some degree. I ask you now, as both his father and as this community's spiritual leader, do you agree to this of your own will? Will you... try... to love each other in God's eyes? For once this is done, it is not a thing easily undone."

Ebenezer opened his mouth to say something, only to be stopped as the Reverend raised his hand in forbearance. The preacher focused on the girl alone as he stated, "Tell me this now, promise it to me before God and I will... give you my blessing."

The Orphan's Wedding

An it please you, do small posts for now until you feel you can do otherwise. Sometimes you're in the zone and sometimes you're not. Besides, it is quality and not quantity that matters.

The Orphan's Wedding

Hello! Hello!

I was beginning to wonder what might have happened. Usually I give my partner's a solid week before I start to bug them, well aware as I am of how real life can get in the way. This time, I have to admit, I was wondering if I had done something wrong! A number of my partners seemed to have up and vanished over the past two weeks, leaving me dead in the water; that, however, is my own paranoia and nothing to do with you. Be that as it may, you have no idea how happy I was to see a message from you!

I'm glad you're well, and I'm looking forward to your post once your studies allow. Little ideas have been fermenting in my head as to what sort of adventures might be awaiting Kijani in and around the village!

The Witch Trials

"This flies in the face of our very being!" the preacher roared at his son. Ebenezer ignored his father, concentrating instead on running the finely honed razor across his jaw. There was no denying that this was as far from custom as he could allow, but it was still all very legal, even if his Praise-God Stone saw it otherwise. "The judge is her guardian," his father continued in a rant, "He has not given his permission for this. You barely know her, you do not love her, she does not love you! And age! I did not agree with her father's wish for her to marry so young, but you! You are scarcely that much older! And are you aware that she could well face fines for defying her legal guardian in this! And once wed it is a done matter, not unless she can not bear children to term!"

Ebenezer shrugged as though to finally acknowledge his father's point. Wiping away the last of the soap, he glanced over his shoulder at where his stood, balancing his weight upon the two canes. "She does not love Enoch Mayhew any more than I. Less even, I wager. And so this marriage will have more tenderness in it than she has experienced so far.." He set aside the town to turn towards his father calmly. "Did you know he beats her?"

The preacher frowned and muttered something beneath his breathe. "Oh, so you do know!" triumphed his son. "It is not even Enoch's house! It is Judge Mayhew's! If anyone had the right to discipline her, it would be the father and not the son! Enoch acts as though they are already wed in every manner save the main. Well. I. Will. Not. Stand it! You worry on whether or not we love each other. Did her father give any such consideration? Or Judge Mayhew? Call it then a Christian love to save her from the beatings that no one, no one! Has attempted to succor her from."

Falling into a chair, the Reverend Stone set aside his canes to wring his hands together. "There will be trouble, Ebenezer. You could well split our congregation."

Now Ebenezer's temper was up, his face reddening in anger as he snatched his coat and hat from the bed. He heard the knock upon the door but was not content in leaving without the final word in this, his voice quite clearly heard through the door. "Are the feelings of the congregation of a higher value to God than the abuse of a girl who has done nothing?! Shall we condemn her to suffer because of her fortunes, leaving her to rot so as to avoid trouble?! Yes, father, I will admit it. I have my own reasons for wanting this marriage. I know the sins within my heart far better than you might ever know, and by God's mercy than you ever will know! That does not waiver the fact that the right and Christian thing to do is to get her out of that house! Marriage solves a number of problems for both her and I. So I pray you, father. Will you stand as witness with your blessing?"

His father ruminated. "Companionship. Harmony. Fulfillment. Security. These are the tenants upon which our marriages are based." He looked up to his son sharply. "Will you hold to these principles, Ebenezer? Will you try to learn to love one another?"

These was no hesitation. He could not allow himself to hesitate, not if he was going to get his sire's consent to all of this. Nor was it a hard thing for him to promise; while he did not love Mirabella, nor she him, how could he not at least make the attempt. That he knew little of wooing or courtship was another matter. "Yes, father. I will try!"

Reverend Stone sighed, then flicked his hands towards the doorway. "Go. Answer the door and bring her hence."

Ebenezer nodded sharply in thanks to the old man before hurrying towards the door. He opened the door swiftly and smiled to see her there waiting. There was something so... innocent... about her, an aspect to her charm that made this entire scheme all the more appealing. He wondered what it would take a bring a flush to that heavenly face. The smile faded when he saw the bruises. Enoch had not let her go without a fight, which meant there would be more of a fight to come. The judge's son was far taller and stronger than the preacher's son, a physical threat that could not be ignored. Ebenezer, however, had two things that Enoch did not: intelligence and... experience. As though to try and comfort her, he raised his hand much as he had the last night, slowly, gently, only this time he allowed his fingertips to touch her cheek, tracking the line of the bruise. He sighed, extending his hand to her. "My father wishes to see you ere we go, Mirabella."

The Witch Trials

He lowered his hand with a soft smile, a grin that was less lear and more calculating. She thought he was after her body alone! Oh, how Ebenezer wanted to correct her, to let her know that to have such a woman for a wife was only a secondary benefit, that she was providing him with far more than a mere excuse for acceptable conjugation! Far more, in fact, than he might ever reveal to her. And after all, as good Christians they should not let vanity hold such sway, not his taking pride in having one such as she for a lawful mate.

Mirabelle's next question was a good one, the answer to which came to him as readily as the question itself. "Tomorrow morning just after you have broken your fast, come to my father's house. You say you have no other goods of worth, so leave all else behind save that which you wear; my father, in his ailment, still has kept many of my mother's clothing and that which we can not have tailored to you we shall buy later. Should any press you as to the reason for the visit, merely say that you go in seek of spirit counseling before your wedding. That will be true enough. From there we shall straight to the courthouse go and have the matter settled with my own father as witness; after my prolonged departure, he will be too happy to see me wed and a woman to tend the house again that he will not question it. Should you not appear by mid-morning..."

The last he left hanging, both a threat to their bargain and a promise to see to her well being. "This will not be easy for either of us, you understand. We shall face condemnation, even though what we do is legal. But in this arrangement both you and I will gain far more in the long run, and in time all gossip might be stilled." Only then his face darkened into a far more somber countenance. "There is one thing I will make clear to you now, Mirabella, one thing that you must never do. By no means are you to ever call me by the informal names of 'Ben' or 'Benjamin.' The formal 'Ebenezer' must always be first at your lips when you speak of me or address me, especially around strangers. Even should you come to love me or hate me at some later date, do not utter either of those names."

He bent low to scoop her cape from the ground as though bowing to her. Presenting the garment to her, Ebenezer quietly gave his wife-to-be her first command. "Go you now, Mirabella, and come to me on the morrow."

The Bonny Black Hare

James nearly stopped dead at the sight of her! Was this the sleeping princess beyond the thorns, so eager to meet her knight that she woke early to bid him welcome?! He was far more used to the painted and powdered ladies of the Season in London's salons and parlors, and so the blinding obviousness of her natural beauty shone through all the more. A gentleman who was as honest with himself as he might be, he knew it well that this wasn't love. No, this was attraction. And, God's Breath, what an attraction it was. Shaking himself from his startled hesitation, he fell back on what he knew best: humor.

"Late?" he chuckled warmly. "Why, no! Tis early! I thought I would beat the sun at his own game and wake him up instead! And no worries for poor Ninny, here. He's already thrown a shoe to keep me from riding him any further. We seem to have lost our way, miss. On my own land, no less, which must make me something of a ninny myself. Thankfully we have found you! Although I must express my surprise. My uncle's solicitor made no mention of renting the cottage, didn't even think it was habitable. Did you know my uncle well?" James thought of his mount's care before his own as he tied the reins to a nearby tree stump upon the green, allowing Ninny a fair reach for grazing. The saddle and blanket he removed to make Ninny more comfortable. "Oh, and might you have a curry comb or something I might rub Ninny down with? I'd like as not for him to suffer too unduly in the night."

Turning back about with a twinkle in his eye, James' light humor faded to frowning concern as he espied the bandages upon the woman's leg. Small splatters of red could be seen despite the dimness of the light and the shadows cast by the moon. "And I see Ninny's not the only one to have gained a bit of a limp, now. Are you alright, miss?"

The Witch Trials

Those blue eyes are incredibly haunting...

The Witch Trials

The offer of the locket caused Ebenezer to burst out laughing. "You offer me money? Oh, please. I finally have my father's... difficulties... near resolved, trying though it's been. I have no use for money." A hand negligently waved away the offer.

"But your betrothed," he started once his chuckles died away. The church scholar became thoughtful as he mused out loud, the easiest way for him to organize his thoughts outside of pen and parchment. "You live in his household though you are not yet married, a marriage arrange by your father from what gossips wag. So you must have no other family to shelter you, your betrothed being the closest to relation as you might have. As it is his household, he has the right to discipline you as he sees fit. To whit, with his fists. I can see now why the son is more terrible than the father!"

Falling to silence, Ebenezer let his thoughts ruminate further in search of a solution. As his mind worked, his body drew attention to other facts. Mirabella was a young woman, a comely young woman in fact, whose innocent nature seemed only to increase her attraction. His eyes seemed to continually seek out the gentle curves of her neck as they graced their way downwards, and the way the pale skin of her bear arms glowed in the moonlight made him think of other moonlit nights and other women. Not to mention the tantalizing glimpses of her bare ankles below her slips.... Mind and body agreed on an idea then. It was a solution born of lust and opportunity, but one that would serve them both nicely. No doubt it would cause other troubles within the community. Only there were few situations in which problems would not arise. And this one came to his benefit.

After all, a married man was more respectable than a single one. Such respectability would make his past all the harder to find him.

"Refuse the choice put upon you to marry him," he abruptly burst forth. "It is your right, though you are not expected to ever use it. They might argue custom and tradition, but the judge himself can not argue the law. Quit his house and his hand, seek another family to watch over you and keep you from falling into such temptations. Once under another man's roof and wed to him, the judge's son has no claim upon you."

Ebenezer stood then and moved close to her, the warmth of his body within inches of hers. Save that there was nothing overly warm in his eyes as he looked down at her frightened face. "There is the price of my silence, Mirabella. Keep you your silver. Marry me instead and be free of that brute while learning a proper wife's due and duty. Give yourself to me, and I shall give you my silence."

He slowly raised his hand as though to stroke her cheek but without actually touching. No, she would have to lean into that caress if she so chose. "You'll not find me an unkindly husband, Mirabella. And in time, as the preacher's wife, you shall have more security than you had ever dreamed of."

The Witch Trials

Ebenezer watched with interest as she faltered to a stop, pleading and swearing that she was no witch. Convicting her of such a crime would not take much, he knew, as he had been witness to several interrogations, hearings and trials during his time in Europe. The Germanies, especially, had been the most... instructive. Here in the colonies and far from true civilization, it would take even less to have her hanged. The idea of seeing a rope about her slender neck left him... uneasy.

"Not a witch, you say? That is a statement the congregation might find difficult to accept, mistress." He stood now and eased himself out into the clearing nonchalantly, hands behind his back and chin held just a touch high as though pondering the sky overhead. "You have, intentionally or no, lured a young preacher from his home in the middle of the night. You then, in your bedclothes no less, proceeded to dance wantonly about beneath a full moon before him, pausing only to speak with a forest creature in such a manner as to indicate that an actual conversation was taking place." Ebenezer spread his hands outwards to indicate his own helplessness at seeing the situation any other way as he lowered his gaze towards where she half cowered. "Even in the finest cities of Europe, it would be hard not to find you guilty of witchcraft based on just that sole testament of a learned man."

Finding a convenient rock at hand, he sat himself upon it in a relaxed manner. "However that may be, I am, to my grief, a learned man. I do not believe you a witch, only a woman falling to far more mortal temptations than to actual evil. A lesser sentence, in most cases. Banishment, at worst. Although such an exile would no doubt prove fatal as there are few places within walking distance that might provide you with any succor, and the local natives have little use for another mouth to feed."

He paused to rub at his chin in consideration of her plight. "So what to do with you then? Do you propose a bargain, perhaps, something of yours in exchange for my silence?" He cocked an eyebrow as another thought came to him, a strange phrasing of her words that seemed odd. "And when you decry 'the judge or his son', why does it sound you fear more the latter than the former? I would think the father the more dangerous to you."

The Witch Trials

Ebenezer rubbed at his forehead in the light of the smokey oil lamp. True Christians should not so covet wealth, he had been taught, as to become enamored with it beyond all else. That certainly seemed true of his father now! Three weeks of backtracking expenses and inquiring about the town had revealed just how much of the family's once modest finances had fallen to ruin. It was only by the grace of God and his father's popularity as a preacher that had kept several creditors from calling in their debts. Ebenezer had taken with the books to a will to attempt a reversal of fortune these past nights, arranging for payments out of his father's salary as a clergymen and bolstered by what coin Ebenezer had brought with him upon his return. In truth, it would have been far, far easier to simply pay all the debts out of his own pocket and cleared his family of delinquency. Only then questions would arise, questions that the missing son did not wish to answer or have pursued too heavily. Best instead to restore his own credibility and his father's reputation all in one go by remaining the dutiful son.

"Red!" the old man creaked as he hobbled into the room upon his crutches. Spittle flew out between missing teeth as Reverend Stone spoke, drool flecking his wiry grey beard. "A red coat you're wearing, Ebenezer! A color of sin! A color of soldiers! Of whores and thieves and kings! Red as blood! Proper black, Ebenezer. Go you now to Goodman Jenkins, buy yourself a proper coat and hat this instant!"

Ebenezer resisted sighed. Instead he rose with ink stained fingers to guide his father back to his bed. "Father, Goodman Jenkins died years ago, remember? I can no more ask him for clothing than Cromwell for a horse! And I have a black coat, father. I'm wearing it now! The red one has not been worn since I arrived, and we burned that, yes?"

"Play not the fool with me, sirrah! I am your father! Honor thy father, as they say, and keep not to such whimsical notions!" The preacher mellowed for a moment, lost in his second infancy. "Jenkins... Jenkins was a good man. A good and Christian man." He said little more as his son guided him back towards his bedroom in the rear of the house and set him to bed. Ebenezer tucked his father in with a tolerant love, all the while wishing for things that hadn't happened. If he had but stayed! Or been able to return earlier! Was there anything he could have done to prevent his father's slide into crook'd and gibbering ailment? Probably not. Only this did nothing to soften the guilt he felt for his overlong absence. It was allayed only by the fact that his father only seemed the worse at night, after the sun had set. During the day, Reverend Stone remained the devout and zealous servant of God that he had always been! Perhaps it was the pull of the moon upon his mind, Ebenezer had heard of such same in London, that the elderly might become most vexing after the daylight hours. He was no physic, though. And were he a more superstitious man, he might well have called witchcraft for his father's late night regressions; only he was a learned man, who had seen more of the world than his parents had ever intended.

Reaching the desk once again, he paused to trim the wick of the lantern and set himself to his task again.

There was a flicker of movement outside along the edge of the forest. Ebenezer prided himself on a sharp eye. What was this? Someone about beneath the full moon? It was unheard of for the good Christians of the town to be out and about so late, himself excused the excess as all knew his dedication. Savages, then. For the most part, their relations with the natives had remained peaceful of late, although there were incidents that often arose to the sorrow of all. Fearing such folly again, he quickly stole to his chest and produced a pair of worn wheel-lock pistols. Ensuring they were loaded and primed, Ebenezer softly padded out of the house after the figure. The shadows of night were a great help to concealing the Puritan black he now wore.

The sight that caught his eye as he crept forward stunned him. A young girl... No, a woman! Mirabelle, he recalled after a moment, dancing unashamedly beneath the stars and moon without a care, displaying... joy. Hadn't his father said something about her forthcoming marriage to the judge's son? He remembered her vaguely of old from before he had been sent away. Ebenezer found he could not keep his eyes off of her now, party from intoxication at the way she moved with such abandon and party from fear. He did not believe in witches, no. Many other evils that he had seen and experienced, yes. But not witches. Now confronted with the sight of this woman stepping lightly in time to some hidden music, and, lo! Speaking to some unseen thing! He pursed his fine lips as he re-evaluated his stance on the matter.

Finally, fearing the temptations arising in his own soul, Ebenezer called out to her from the shadows in a hushed hiss. So expertly hidden was he that she would have found it near impossible to locate where he obscured himself with the brush and shadows of the moonlit trees.

"Why do you dance, then?"