Authors: Ginger Garrett
“Is it confession?”
“No. It is not confession. I need help.”
“What help can I give you, Mia?” Stefan raised his voice. “Why can you not solve your own problems? I can offer confession, I can offer Mass, I can offer sacraments. But these are never enough for you, are they? What could I possibly help you with?”
Mia burst into tears. She didn’t mean to, and she wanted nothing more than to stop, but she felt like a small, stung child with no mother to run to. No one wanted to help her except the one man whose help she should refuse.
“Sit,” he said, groaning, flinging his hand at a bench. Mia sat.
He sat down an arm’s length away.
“What is it, my child?” he asked in a brittle voice.
“I think I am bewitched.”
Stefan stood. “Get out.”
“No, Father Stefan. Hear me.”
“I want no talk of witches, not in my church, Mia. If you fall prey to this madness, then you will suffer it alone.”
Mia’s shoulders fell. She cleared her throat, trying to soothe the burning lump starting inside. “I have nowhere else to go, Father. Something is terribly wrong.”
“You can go home, Mia. You can tend to your child and to Bjorn. Go earn your good name.”
“What good name do I have?” Mia said. “My husband cares nothing for me. I have no more friends. The one friend I trusted abandoned me, and now you, my own priest—you want nothing to do with me either.”
Stefan sighed, putting his head in his hands for a moment.
“I just want to ask one question and then I’ll leave. How can I go back, Father? How can I undo my mistakes?”
“What do you know of mistakes? Forgetting to make bread? Using too much salt? I know about real mistakes.”
“Bjorn is bewitched because I failed him as a wife. I left him vulnerable. He has lain with other women. And Bastion has said these same women bewitched Alma. It was why she was so often sick, despite my prayers.”
“No woman in this village would curse a child.”
“They have to. Bastion says they do. They have to murder children, ’tis how they get blood to make their magic potions.”
“This madness offends God.”
“Then why did God heal Alma?” Mia asked. Her heart quickened. She hadn’t said that out loud before.
“Alma has been healed?”
“Yes. Alma was healed that night after Bastion’s first service. Doesn’t this mean God is blessing Bastion’s work?”
“We should not mistake success with men as a sign of God’s blessing.”
“I do not want to believe this is God’s way either, but God is a mystery to me. Why would He heal Alma when I have made so many mistakes?”
“Because you asked Him to. He is a Father and a Savior.”
“I’ve asked Him for lots of things.”
“So have I.”
They sat in silence. Mia knotted the fabric in her lap, then released it.
“Bastion troubles me a great deal, Father. I don’t know who else to turn to.”
Stefan stood and approached the altar, staring up at the crucifix, his hands behind his back. “God did not answer me or grant my prayers for Alma either. Why do you come to me, then?” Stefan asked, then turned to face her. “Why come to me at all, Mia?”
Mia wrapped her arms around her stomach and looked away. “I thought you would have answers.”
“You have to choose. Bastion’s words or mine. Choose whom to believe, or neither of us can help you.”
“I want to believe you. But Bastion has done great things, things worth believing in.”
“So why come to me now? My words seem to produce no effect. You said it yourself.”
“Because you are my priest, and I have sinned. I am confused. I do not know how to repent, whether it is my nature to sin or some devil at work.” She paused, taking a deep breath before releasing what burned in her heart. “I tempted a man, Stefan. I did not mean to. I am afraid God will take away Alma’s healing, afraid I’ll do something worse.”
She lied just a little. True that she had not wished for this or invited Bastion’s kiss, but now she knew desire. Her pains melted away when she thought of the kiss. She would not confess that.
“Bastion would say there is nothing you can do,” Father Stefan said. “Women stir up lust in a man.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“It is in your nature. It is the way God made you. That is what Bastion teaches, is it not?”
“Name any penance. I do not want to be this way.”
“Go home, Mia, and stay there. If you live by Bastion’s teaching, then you will suffer by it too.”
“But …”
“Go away!”
Mia stumbled out of the doors, shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight as tears streamed down her face, shaming her.
Strong arms caught her before she tumbled down the steps.
“Mia? What is wrong?”
Bastion had hold of her. Mia was so grateful for his touch, his arms taking hold of her, but she thought of running. Running would be right.
“Tell me what has happened,” he said.
“Is something wrong with me?”
He led her a few steps away where she could lower her voice—a kind thing for him to do. Her comfort mattered to him.
“Bastion, why do people treat me this way? Even Father Stefan is sick of me.”
Bastion made a little scolding sound, shaking his head.
“Don’t mock me,” Mia said, unable to raise her eyes to look at him. “Why is Bjorn so cold to me? Even you—you would not flatter me if I was not desperate, would you? That’s what makes me attractive to you. I was desperate when Bjorn married me. I don’t provoke desire in any man. I provoke pity. Pity and scorn.”
“Are you done?” Bastion asked.
She made everything worse every time she tried to speak. He probably thought her a fool.
“I owe you my deepest apologies, Mia. This is my fault.”
Mia got up the courage to look him in the eye. He did not mock her.
“I forget that all this is so new to you. You misunderstand the signs around you. Shall I help you understand? You might feel better.”
She nodded, taking a shuddering little breath.
“I have not yet rescued Bjorn, and for good reason. But you must first understand how their magic works. A witch casts a spell on a man, and the spell cannot be removed by anyone other than a witch. A witch’s death does not break the spell. Only another witch can do it. Do you understand? There will be time to rescue Bjorn. But you must be patient while I work, and if you know of any witches, you must turn them in. I want to see you happy.”
Bastion ran his fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face. In her rush, she had forgotten to put her scarf on. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders. No man should have seen this; it was as if she was naked before him, before them all standing on those church steps.
“You don’t know any witches, do you, Mia? Anyone you would wish to turn in? You don’t have to have proof. I know you to be a good woman. I will accept your word.”
She ran her hand through her hair, pushing his out.
“Of course not,” she lied. If she said anything about the old healer in the forest, Bastion would have the woman burned. Mia could not live with that guilt too.
“There is no one you suspect?”
Mia saw the village spread out behind him, the women busy at market, returning to their homes. She had chosen work, and silence, over friendship, even more in the years since Rose turned away from her. The women had taken Rose’s side, eyeing Mia with distrust. Or disdain, as if there was a difference. Mia understood what Bastion offered her. He offered her the chance to judge them all. With one pointed finger, she could have revenge.
“No. No one.”
“I know you want to be loved,” he said, leaning in. “But I do have a problem.”
He inhaled, trying to smell her hair. Mia stood very still as he spoke.
“If the spell on Bjorn is broken, how will we know? Has he ever truly loved you?”
Mia’s cheeks burned, and she did not answer.
“If you will never be loved by Bjorn, come with me. When my work is finished here, come with me.”
Mia shook her head.
“I want to save you, Mia. You are a woman worth saving.”
Mia’s nose stung, the first sign of returning tears. She swallowed hard.
Bastion stroked her cheek, his smooth hand finding the contours of her cheek, then stepped back.
“Consider my offer. But if you want to stay, if you are so determined to save this husband that may never love you, think of this: I can command a witch to remove the spell over Bjorn. But why should I, Mia? Should I set Bjorn free only for you to discover that he never loved you? Should I see your heart broken and know I broke it?”
He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to his chest, leaning down and kissing her before he released her. She recognized alcohol on his breath.
“If you want him back, I will make sure you know what it means to be loved first.”
He turned and strode down the steps, leaving Mia there with her heart thundering in her ears, her legs unsteady. She saw villagers staring at her, the women with their mouths open. A stray cat dashed out of the church, past Mia’s feet, startling her. When she looked back at the people, no one raised their faces again to look at her.
Mia understood.
Who would dare speak against me now?
she thought.
If I hold Bastion’s heart, then I hold their lives.
Mia put her hand over her mouth.
“Who am I becoming?”
Chapter Nineteen
Stefan sat on the pew, his face in his hands. Erick hadn’t returned from dealing with Dame Alice. Mia had fled after his outburst. The church was dead in its silence. He stood and faced the wooden cross hanging above him.
“I’m no use to anyone if I stay in here.” He tapped his toes inside his shoes, then turned and rushed for the doors, trying to move fast before his fears caught him. He stumbled down the steps, shoving people to his right and left, causing them to cry out. Stefan pushed them away until he stood facing Bastion.
Bastion sat in a chair, one leg crossed over the other, gesturing with ease as men from the village crowded around him, listening to his counsel. At his feet seven women from the village crouched on their knees, heads bent to the dust, weeping. Dame Alice faced Bastion, shaking her finger at him.
“These girls are like daughters to me, all of them! You can’t just tie them up and take them away! If you have questions about their character, you come to me!”
Bastion indulged Dame Alice with a smile. “Mother,” he said, “have no fear. Any woman I find to be virtuous will be released.”
As Stefan approached, he saw what had kept Dame Alice safe so far: She was not young or beautiful. Bastion had only the dullest interest in her.
Erick pulled on her arm, trying to move her to safety—somewhere her tongue would not lead to her arrest. When he saw Stefan, he rolled his eyes and let go of Alice. “She’s going to get herself arrested. And me, too. I can’t even repeat what she called me when I tried to stop her.”
Stefan took Alice by the arm, and she glared at him.
“Dame Alice, please. I will resolve this. But you need to be quiet. No sense in getting yourself arrested.”
Bastion said something to the men behind him that made them smirk, and he stood. “Stefan, it is good of you to come. This is your work too, after all.” Bastion gestured over the women kneeling at his feet.
“Humiliation is not my work.”
Bastion opened his arms, welcoming all to listen. “Father Stefan expresses what many of you think, yes? Let us remember why I have been called here, with some urgency, by your Father. Did you not have two murders here?”
Stefan saw them nod.
“Did they show signs of witchcraft?”
Bastion waited less time for the nods.
“Did not King Saul consult a witch in his hour of great distress?” Bastion asked, another Scripture story he seemed to know well. “And King Saul brought wrath upon himself for his wicked ways, upon his whole family, upon his whole kingdom. His sons died. His warriors died. What does the Bible command good men of God to do with a witch?”
The answer burned in Stefan’s mind. He had heard this one verse quoted for years. He never imagined it would matter to him.
“‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,’” Bastion called. “God commands it. God does not say it is pleasant work. Who among you is a Christian? Jesus says only true disciples obey His commands. This is a test from God, I tell you. The true disciples of Jesus are being revealed. Woe unto him who fails the test. Woe unto him who betrays His Lord. May Judas be cut off from his people forever.”
“No.” Stefan stepped forward. “It is I who will put you to the test. You must prove your claims or release these women at once. Prove to us that you do God’s will.”
The women had turned their faces up to Stefan to see their savior. He scowled. They must have done something to be arrested. Women’s foolishness had made his own mistakes that much worse.