Authors: Marjorie Weismantel
I smelled the sweet breezes of wet spring. I opened my
inner sight to the surroundings, damp woods and clusters of ragged people. We
were together, shivering in the forest.
“What do you see?” asked Belinda through the sound tunnel.
“I am in a forest and for once I am surrounded by my own
kind,” I answered softly.
She responded, “What do you mean by ‘own kind’?”
“They are witches like me,” I whispered. "I can feel
it. They wear their magic like a bitter shroud. It has been weakened by their
anguish. They need their magic to be strengthened.”
Belinda leaned in. “Why are they with you?”
“They have traveled far and wide to get here. I am known as
Colette and I live in the Frankish village of Rodemack. They are from the
countries of the continent and England. They are seeking their salvation,
along with their revenge.” My eyes gleamed at that.
“Why would they seek revenge?”
“We are living in very grave times. The year is 1320. We
have just been through the Great Famine. There were two years of no summers,
just eternal rain and damp. It was a bitter, cold winter and there was snow on
the crops. We were unable to cure the hay so the animals could not feed. We
could not even dry the salt.”
“That sounds terrible, but I still do not understand the
part about revenge,” Belinda persisted.
How could she not understand? “After a time, all of the
draft animals were eaten and then the planting seeds rotted. In order to
survive, the villagers had to dig for roots and scrape the bark, and at that
they still died of starvation by the thousands. Some people even left their
little ones to die. When humans face such terrible calamities, they always
blame the others.”
Belinda asked in a quiet tone, “Is that what they did, they
blamed the good ones, the luminars?”
“Yes,” I answered, “and of course it was led by the devil
witches, the diaboles.”
Suddenly, I felt a sharp crack. It was as if the cord that
tied me to my 21
st
century reality snapped. I look around me. All
that I see and hear is my life in this 14
th
century. The ragtag
witches stare at me, as if waiting for me to speak to them, and so that is what
I do. I find that the words flow naturally off my tongue. As I speak to them,
I feel an overwhelming passion well up in me.
“It is your lords and masters,” I cry to them. “They are
the greedy ones, the ones who continue to tax you and take what little you
have. They have even stolen the last morsel of food from the mouths of your
babes. THEN, to deflect from their gluttony, they blame us and they incite the
commoners. The priests in their holy pulpits accuse us of all sorts of
devilry. They say we are the cause of the great tempests, that we inflict
injury on the work animals, and that we bring the pestilence to our neighbor’s
fields. They even accuse us of blocking the sun, as if we could do such a
thing.” I stare at them as I speak. Their hoods are concealing their eyes, but
I know they are listening to me by their stillness and the tilt of their heads.
I pause and the crowd begins a whispering murmur. A
green-robed man next to me steps forward and raises his hand for silence. A
hush goes over the crowd and he speaks. “You know the truth of what she says.
The diaboles are determined to destroy us and our kind. It is easy to target
us for we are the luminars. We are the ones who spend our days trying to rid
the fields of the harvest rot and the children of the hunger diseases. We are
always near the death and destruction. We do not hide away in our manors or
sanctuaries as they do.”
“Why did you have us come to this place?” questions a
stooped old crone in the front.
I lift my chin and regard her. “We must stop them, before
it is too late! Since this terrible famine, many of our kind have been dragged
before the village lords or judges, recipients of false accusations. The
accused would then be questioned and tortured before the very folk they tried
to help. As convicted witches, they are then tied to the stake and burned
completely to ash.” I pause, than quietly add, “The commoners have been
convinced of a grave falsehood, that erasing all evidence of our being will rid
the world of its sorrow. That is a deception that they will surely regret.”
A short man from the back speaks up, pointing his finger for
emphasis, “I live in Friesland. The witches are not being persecuted there as
such. The famine has been bad, but they have only summoned the witches to the
big house and spoke to them. So far, no one has been hurt. My master has been
good and he will leave us be. I declare that to be the truth.”
“Tis easy for ‘ye to say such things.” A tall woman with a
faded red cloak and a sallow-skinned child by her side stepped on a log to be
heard. She glanced around furtively before she continued. “I am from the
Gaelic country. At the begin’ of the starvation, it wa’ like ye say.” She
nodded toward the short man. “The laird called each o’ the witches, un by un
and he had words with us. Thought tad be the end of it we did, but t’was not.
The time of hunger woudn’a go away so the laird and his son went agin us.
T’was not as we thought it’ would be. I was off’n the field with our lassie
when they came and took my ma and my da.” She sobbed for a moment, clutching
the girl to her side, but her voice was clear as day, her flashing eyes
defiant, “They were accused of the witchery they were, and whipped and burned,
all the same dae. I could thee hear screams and smell the foul odor of the
smoke as I ran. I ben wandrin with our poor lass, Kellie ever since.”
The red cloaked woman stepped down and all were silent. I
searched for the right words to say but I could think of nothing.
The green-robed man next to me finally started to talk in a
low but steady voice. “We all know what is happening throughout the continent
and in the English lands. The diaboles are using the human suffering of this
famine to rid the world of the luminars. After all, if the world is rid of
good witches, the power of the bad ones will be unending.
The stooped crone spoke again, impatience in her tone, “So,
tell us what you want of us.”
“We will simply do the deeds they accuse us of,” I say
quietly with raised eyebrows, waiting for their reaction.
“And what deeds would that be, dearie?” the crone waved her
staff at me.
“They accuse us of evil deeds even though they know we are
not guilty of such things. So, why not let them truly suffer the consequences
of their deception? We will contrive an illness upon their families, we will
raise tempests upon their farms, we will divine spells to cause distrust among
their households, we will make their animals lame and we will bring ruination
upon their fields.”
A shout from the crowd, “And where are we to carry out these
acts?”
The green-robed man touched my arm before he answered for
me, “Henceforth, ye shall go to your place of origin and commit these crimes
against your lords and masters. You will have some time because they know this
is not of your true nature, so they will not suspect you, at least for a
while. There will be a time when they determine the cause. You must be very
careful when that time comes. However, remember that not all lords and priests
are diaboles. Some of them are of a decent sort. Be careful only to target
the evil ones. It is not our way to go after the innocent.”
“We feel such danger around us now. Why must we add to our
troubles?” the voice of a boy choked out.
“This is what must be!” I angrily directed at them. “I know
it is hard for good ones to engage in such destructive acts. But, we either do
this, or we wait for our demise at their hands. There is no choice in the
matter.”
At that I waited. The witches had been through enough.
This war of witches would bring them more pain and death. They were hoping for
peace. The witches were again murmuring among themselves. After a time I
sensed something from the crowd. I knew they were turning my way.
The old crone finally spoke up. “We will do your biding,
girl. Don’t know if it’ll work but nothin’ else comes to mind. Tis better to
die fighting, than be led like a blind man to the burning pyre.” I could hear
some muttering in the crowd but most of them were nodding their assent.
As the witches were gathering their belongings to begin
their journeys, back I went among them to converse and inquire as to where each
was from. I was pleased to learn that they came from all over the continent
and the English lands: Scotland, England, Bavaria, Friesland, Castile, Denmark,
Hungary, and many more states. When they go back to their homelands and carry
out the plan, the destruction to the diaboles will be unforeseen, wide spread,
and devastating.
Out of respect to me, the witches pulled down their hoods as
we met. I was taken by surprise at many of the meetings for it was revealed to
me that I knew a number of them. Strangely, they did not respond in return.
How could that be explained? Most of them were from afar. When could we have
possibly met?
Most shocking of all, however, was the green-hooded man.
When I first heard him speak at my side, I sensed a connection with him even
though his voice was not familiar. When he finally pulled off his hood and
looked into my eyes, I felt a peculiar warmth spring from my heart. I knew
instantly upon gazing at his face that he had once been my father.
What was strange about that was that I had watched my own
father die many years before of the falling sickness. This man did not even
look like my father. No, this man was not my father from this lifetime. He
had been my father in some other lifetime. I was sure of it.
Suddenly, I felt a shaking sensation, almost as if we were
experiencing an earthquake. What’s the matter with the others? Don’t they
feel it? The witches were talking and gathering their belongings as if nothing
was happening. I fell to my knees to try to slow down the sensation of
movement. It was making me dizzy.
A tiny voice in my head: “Tess, Tess, do you hear us?
Please, you must come back.” I could feel something grasping my shoulder.
A voice I’ve heard before, but so faint: “Mom, her eyes
look different. Start the count back. I think she’s starting to hear us.”
It was now louder and insistent: “Tess, I am going to count
down from ten to one. By the time I reach one, you will return to the present.
Ten, nine, eight, seven…………one.”
My inner sight faded away to a tiny black pinpoint. I felt
around and opened my eyes. I’ve been here before. Why was I here?
I turned to the right and saw her staring at me, obvious concern
on her face. On my left was the older one, outwardly calm, but I could see a
twitch in the corner of her eye.
“Are you alright, dear? You looked dazed. Remember me?
I’m Belinda.”
“And you know me, I’m Mercy, your best friend. Are you
doing OK?”
“Yes, yes. Give me a moment,” I said, holding my head in my
hands. I could feel a headache coming on. “Moving between centuries, it makes
you lose your bearings.”
“Why didn’t you want to come back to us, Tess?” asked
Belinda softly.
“Because it was so terrible for the witches there. They
were pitiful, starving, devoid of hope. Somehow I felt responsible for them
and I did not want to leave.”
Belinda smiled. “I’ve heard of this happening, but I’ve
never seen it. Sometimes people are regressed to a past life and they don’t
want to come back so they try to stay. It can be very dangerous. People have
been known to…..well, never mind. ” She took my hand. “I’m just glad you
returned to us, Tessie.”
I gazed back at her. “I saw what happened. I witnessed the
beginning of the Karmic Apocalypse of the Wiccans.”
“We had an idea you did. We could hear you speaking to the
witches about a plan to nail the diaboles on their own territory,” Mercy
remarked.
“Do you know how things turned out, Tess?” Belinda inquired.
“The luminars all went back to their homes and followed the
plan. We only targeted the diaboles and it went as you would expect. The evil
ones suffered great hardship for a few years: failed crops, poor health,
family troubles, and general bad luck. It resulted in a time of some hardship,
because when the lord and masters suffer misfortune, everyone is affected.
However, for a while, it was also a time of peace because the diaboles were
busy trying to fix all of their misfortunes. They even stooped to seeking out
the luminars for help. We would not help them, though. We just pretended to
help.”
“Why would they ask you for help? After all, they were
witches. Didn’t they have any powers?” Mercy asked.
“One power the diaboles completely lost was the power to
heal, primarily, because of disuse. If they needed a healer they had to call a
doctor, or a luminar and the doctors weren’t very good during those times,” I
explained.
“What did you do when you went back to your lord and
master? Did he deserve retribution? Did you torment him and his household?”
Mercy asked with a little smile.
I nodded and explained, “In my village there were two evil
ones who tormented everyone within their reach, including the commoners. One
was Lord De Mornay and the other was the Bishop of Reims. The Bishop was just
your everyday witch-hater. But Lord De Morney was especially heinous. He went
after the so called ‘child witches’. We knew he just had a thing for children.
He enjoyed abusing and torturing them. The threat of arresting a child was
also a very effective way of controlling their parents.”
“So, what did you do to them?” asked Belinda.
“My mama, who was also a witch, was determined to make Lord
De Mornay pay. You see, he had taken my baby brother, Renaud, the year
before. It was terrible. We had loved him so. Mama and I had lost all our
fear after that tragedy. In fact, I would say Renaud’s death was one of the
reasons I decided to call together the witches to plan
The Karmic Apocalypse
.”
Mercy cried, “What a horrible man! How’d you make him
pay?”
With a deep sigh I explained, “We decided to inflict him
with as much pain and suffering as possible. Most importantly, we did it very
quickly and we hit him hard. That way, he was completely overcome by the shock
of it all. He had to spend a great deal of his time trying to manage the
calamities that fell upon his household.”
“What did you do to him to bring him to his knees?” Mercy
asked with a note of thrill in her voice.
“I had access to their household on occasion because they
called me to treat disease and illness. I turned to Belinda and added, “I
learned that I had a talent, curing maladies by ‘the laying of the hands’.
Belinda looked startled. “Really? Can you explain it?”
“Actually, I believe that I still have that talent. It is a
kind of healing through warmth and displacement. My healing methods were not
always successful, but I was much better than the doctors. They were terrible
in those days.”
Belinda asked with obvious curiosity, “What would happen?
What would you do?”
“I would place my hands on a person’s diseased parts and
think about my hands and how they were warm, but also how they could act as a
vessel. I would think about pulling the disease out of their body and into my
hands and my body.”
Mercy gasped, “You would suck the disease into your body?
Wouldn’t it make you sick?”
I nodded in agreement. “Temporarily, yes. If I was able to
pull a sickness out of someone’s body, I could be very tired and sick for a
quite a while. Under most circumstances, I knew that eventually I’d rid myself
of the disease for my body was not aligned for the growth of that disease at
that time. It was always a risky procedure because I didn’t know when I might
acquire an illness that would stay with me.”
Belinda appeared puzzled as she asked, “Why do you still
think you have the healing power of ‘the laying of the hands’?”
“Because I have cured people before. Twice that I know
of.” I looked between Belinda and Mercy as I continued, “When I was a girl of
about seven, I was home with my mom. I knew she was pretty sick because she
looked so bad. She was vomiting and she had a high fever and chills, the whole
bit. She stayed in her bed and could hardly talk or do anything. I was
running around heating up soup and trying to make her better but it was
frustrating. I felt terrible for her and really missed her company. Anyway, I
laid my hands on her when she was sleeping and I wished that I could make her
better. After a time I could feel something leave her body and go into mine.
It felt weird, like ants crawling into my skin. I remember feeling awful right
after that feeling of the crawling ants hit my stomach. My mom was the
opposite. She woke right up and got out of bed and then she put me right to
bed. I was so sick for about a week with some kind of flu. My mom figured
that I simply caught it from her, but deep down I knew it was more than that.
I knew that I took it from her.”
Belinda inquired, tilting her head to one side, “When was
the other time it happened?”
“It was just a few years back. My cousin, Eve was playing
on the high school basketball team. She was pretty good. She was the starting
point guard. She fractured a bone in her arm and couldn’t play for a few
weeks. She was so afraid that the coach would continue playing this bratty
freshman even after she returned. It was all she could talk about. I was sick
of hearing it, plus I did feel bad for her. I snuck in her room one night
while she was sleeping and grabbed hold of her injured arm. I just sat there
and held it until I almost fell asleep. Finally, I ended up getting that same
weird feeling, like there were ants crawling into my skin and right through to
my bones. After it stopped, I practically had to crawl to my room. The bones
all over by body were aching so bad. I didn’t go to school for a week. I told
my aunt that I had the flu. Eve went to the doctor’s two days later for
another X-ray to see if it was healing properly. Her arm was completely
healed. The doctors were all shocked . . . . said they’ve never seen anyone
heal so fast.”
“How did you use this ability of yours against Lord De
Morney?” Mercy asked.
I said, “I had heard that the laundress of the De Morney
manor had taken ill. As in the past, I immediately went to the manor to offer
my healing services. When I arrived, before I saw the laundress, I told Lady
De Morney’s serving woman that I had a special potion for her Lady’s gout.
After that, I went to see the poor laundress. She was not in good shape. She
had jawfaln, or fallen jaw. She said that she had been bitten by a wild dog on
the previous day.”
Mercy asked with a puzzled look, “Did she have lock jaw?”
“That’s exactly what she had. I knew what it was at that
time and I knew that it was incurable. I’d seen it happen before. Anyway, I
treated the laundress by placing my hands on her face and gradually drawing the
disease into my body. After that, I managed to go to Lady De Morney’s room
with my special gout potion. It was very difficult for me because I was
feeling the lockjaw disease starting to course throughout my body.
Fortunately, Lady De Morney was very anxious for my potion as she was resting
on her bed with her gouty foot lifted up on a pillow. As I rubbed the potion
all over her leg and her foot, I used all of my concentration to push the
jawfaln, or lockjaw disease out of me and into her own body.”
“Did it work?” Mercy asked anxiously, edging closer to me.
“Yes, it did. Lady De Morney acquired lock jaw and died. It’s
a very bad way to go. I saw her later because they wanted me to try and cure
her. The poison that you get from the bite of a diseased animal causes your
muscles to contract so violently that you lose the ability to draw a breath,” I
shuddered.
Mercy’s eyes widened. “Was she a bad person?”
“Yes, she was a nasty piece of work. She and her husband,
Lord De Morney were both diaboles. They were cruel to their house servants and
they treated their field peasants like the lowest slaves. She was always right
in front during the executions and burnings and she would bring her two horrid
children with her. I really hated her.” I stared off, my mind elsewhere.
Belinda took my hand. “So, Tessie, dear, what else
happened?”
“Two days after Lady De Morney was infected with lockjaw
there was a strange storm. There wasn’t much rain, but there was enough
lightning for me to make use of it.”
“What’d you do with lightning?” Mercy asked, frowning.
“I was able to catch lightning and then throw it out again.
When there was lightning near the De Morney’s field, I was able to catch it and
fling it directly onto their barley and wheat fields. It had been quite dry so
much of their fields burned to the ground.”
“Did you learn anything else about your witch skills?” Belinda
inquired.
“Yeah, and it was a rather simple thing. Mama and I snuck
into Lord De Morney’s barn. Mama was going to lame his best ox and sterilize
two of his breeding cows. As she was ‘laying her hands’ on the ox, a stable
boy came in and started yelling and running toward us. I simply gestured to a
pitchfork across the barn and called it to me. The pitchfork came flying over
and landed at my feet. I immediately picked it up and pointed it at the stable
boy’s neck. I gave him my evil eye and told him that if he interfered with
what we were doing, or told anybody anything at all, I would come back and make
sure that he caught the jawfaln, just like Lady De Morney. The boy grunted, turned
around and left. I knew he wouldn’t say anything because the De Morney
servants hated them as much as we did.”
Mercy looked at me with her raised eyebrows, “So, you have
the power of telekinesis. I think you’ll require some practice.”
Belinda leaned in and asked in a soft tone, “Tess, there’s
something I meant to ask you. When you were at the gathering of witches, you
indicated that you knew some of them, but they didn’t know you. Was that
true?”
I paused for a moment before answering, “Yes. When I went
around to the witches, they took their hoods off so that we could see each
other. As I saw into their eyes, I also got a glimpse into their souls.
Witches only reveal themselves like that when they know they can trust
somebody. That’s when I saw who they were.” I gazed at Mercy. “You were
there, Mercy. You were the Gaelic woman with the red cloak. And, Will was
also there along with Sam. There was Doug, too, the one who likes dodgeball in
gym. I also saw our two gypsy friends, Dika and Nadya, and some of the new
students who have arrived in Woodley recently, including the sister and brother
from my English class. And, I swear, Mr. Kenney was there. I mean, it didn’t
look anything like him because Mr. Kenney is short and round. This guy was
tall and really gaunt, but I’m sure that it was Mr. Kenney’s soul in that
body.”