Page 6 of The Noldrin Witch

If the world insisted on mistaking her for something better, it seemed ungrateful to correct it. With crowds already moving from Falaine toward Bromheim, all she needed was to murmur a few prayers and slip herself among a group of women and nuns who had little reason to question one more pious face in their ranks.

This is where the story truly begins. Not with the petty misfortunes of a few jealous souls, nor with the remarkable lack of spine of a pampered young man, but with the moment Elise dared to gamble everything she knew for the prospect of an entirely different life.

PART 2

The Beginning of Magic

Chapter 4

Elise kept rehearsing her new life story with anyone curious enough to ask. The tale was growing lengthier by the telling. A few more nuns wondering about the circumstances of her family, and she would soon be inventing a full chronicle.

From her loving father, lost in the most recent conflict, to the Falaine king taking possession of their home and most of their belongings, Elise had fashioned herself into a most convincing image of devotion and a conveniently loyal ally to Bromheim. Thankfully, Elise possessed a gifted memory and could recall every detail.

It was already the fourth week of the pilgrimage, and the stubborn spring sun had taken a firm dislike to Elise’s delicate skin. She had tied a small kerchief around her head. The modest scrap of cloth kept the dust at bay, and more usefully, preserved a certain mystery that discouraged most men.

Even then, unfortunately, a few still took it upon themselves to walk beside her, in the charitable belief that their conversation might interest her.

“Smart decision to leave the Falaine lands. Although they might soon belong to Bromheim if everything follows as it should,” said a man with more confidence than teeth. “My ancestors have lived in Bromheim for ten generations. Some say I’m something of a lord here and there. The woman who marries me would have enough land to raise whatever animals she pleased. There’s a good river to wash clothes every day, and I make sure to buy a new broom each year, so cleaning would never be wanting. A lucky woman, the one who catches my eye. No one could hope for better.”

The knave walked with his head held high, glancing about as if he were the most gallant of suitors. Elise had not realized she carried any sign inviting husbands upon her person. Her age and lack of company seemed to have suggested as much. The delicacies of the life the man described sounded little short of dreadful to her, though she was polite enough to let him keep that discovery to himself.

The loud speech of the short fellow drew the attention of those around them. Elise tried to ignore the display and fixed her attention on the ground. The rascal, however, continued on his course without shame. He seemed determined to do most of the speaking, and perhaps to announce the vacant position of wife to the other women in the procession, should Elise fail to recognize the opportunity.

She had spent most of the journey without bother. She kept close to the nuns and other women whenever they stopped for meals or rest at the monasteries along the road. But today she had strayed from the group in search of a bit of shade.

The cur beside her kept edging closer, and she soon gathered he had grown tired of his own proposal and was mustering the nerve to try something far less honorable.

Elise curled her hand into a fist, prepared to return any unkind gesture with equal politeness.

“You are very pretty. Has someone told you?” he said, so close to her face she could sense the distinct breath of old cabbage.

Elise grimaced and was about to give him her reply when a woman’s voice called from behind them.

“I’m sure she owns a mirror.”

Elise’s hand relaxed as she turned to see her savior. It was a striking lady, with hair black as a raven and eyes just as dark. The fullness of her curves and her poise were the only signs that she was no maiden. The stranger met Elise’s eyes briefly before turning to the man and adding in a sharp tone,

“Save that delightful little life you are promising for a woman who has not had the burden of reading a book. Leave this one alone.”

“Silly woman,” the fellow snapped. “Who asked your opinion?”

“I could not help but notice the dread on this poor girl’s face,” the woman replied. “Have you lost as much sight as you have teeth?”

A spark of light caught Elise’s gaze as her savior took something from her pocket only to slip it back again rather quickly.

The self-appointed suitor was offended for only a moment as he seemed to quickly notice the woman’s good looks. He moved swiftly past Elise and set his attention on the newcomer.

“You are not bad yourself,” the man said, having positioned his stumpy self conveniently at the side of his new interest.

Elise turned to see the mysterious lady chuckling. The woman’s defiant gaze locked onto the oaf as she spoke in a hard tone.

“It is a crime to bother women on a procession to Saint Earl. I’m not fond of your kind. The heavens listen, the Lord sees, and I am quite certain your wife in Bromheim would not approve of this.”

The man stiffened at once. He lowered his head and walked away, slowly at first, then he began to sprint as if the devil was on his heels.

The crowd had already begun to whisper, but Elise had no taste for gossip when something more interesting stood before her.

“Thank you, good woman,” she murmured. “How did you know he was married?”