M is for Michaelmas
Title: M is for Michaelmas
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis - AU
Series: a little snippet from the Angel ‘verse
Characters/Pairing: Lorne/Parrish, OCs
Rating: Gen
Orientation: Gen (but you can squint for your slash if you like)
Word Count: 3,251
Prompt: Alternate Universe Bingo Fill: “Middle Ages”
“Evan, we’ve got a key!” David called down to him from the railing of the deck. The sun was warm and the sand was cozy and Evan really didn’t want to move. He tried to ignore his partner.
But David was still new enough at being a Protector that he was excited at the prospect of another case. He wasn’t going to let Evan roast himself on the lovely white sand. He sighed as David’s shadow fell over him, blocking the sun.
“Go ‘way! Unless you have the daiquiri you promised me.”
“No! Duty calls, we have to go. Vacation over!”
“We just got here.” Evan whined as David grasped his arm and tugged him up.
“And we can come right back when we finish. Time’s a wastin’ hop, hop.”
Evan sighed and took hold of the key, invoking the blessing needed to give him the information about their new charge as David smiled and did the same.
The tropical sun of the Virgin Islands disappeared, replaced by gray cloudy skies.
“Where are we?” David asked, looking around.
Surveying the countryside, Evan sniffed the air. “Sheep.” He looked down to see that his swim trunks had been replaced by an itchy brown cassock. Beside him, David was fingering the string of prayer beads that hung suspended from his waist and lifted the hem of his robe to show woven sandals on his feet.
The sky rumbled with thunder and it began to rain. “Not sure, but if I had to guess, I’d say England.”
“We’re priests? Hey, my feet are cold.”
Evan began to chuckle as he pulled his hood further down over his face and tucked his arms into the wide sleeves.
“What’s so funny?” David demanded as Evan’s chuckle became a full blown laugh.
“We really are here doing the Lord’s work!”
Thankfully the rain let up, though the sun didn’t come out. David was miserable because his toes were frozen. The followed the road to a village in the shadow of a large manor house. Everywhere there were people working to bring in the harvest.
A man spotted them and shouted, “We’ve priests come for Michaelmas! We’re surely blessed!” People set down the baskets and bundles and rushed over to Evan and David, calling out happy greetings.
“You’ll say the mass, won’t you father? A real mass for the holy day. It has been many years since our village has been so blessed.” The woman asking was probably only in her forties, but she looked so much older to David’s eyes, her hair was graying, she was pock-marked, stooped and missing teeth.
“Father David and I will be glad to celebrate the feast of the Archangels with you. Will someone show us to the chapel, so that we may prepare?”
David was a little panicked by this prospect. He gulped nervously. “Yes, Father Evan and I need to prepare.”
They were escorted to the chapel, a small stone building near the gates to the manor house. Evan glanced at the gates and asked one of the men accompanying them, “Will the Lord and Lady be coming to services?”
The small crowd fell silent. One of the older men said quietly, “The Lady Margaret is a witch, Father, Lord Ramsey’s seneschal sent for the sheriff.”
“Is she now?” Evan asked.
“They’re going to hang her,” someone called, and the crowd began to murmur unhappily.
It seemed their charge, Margaret of Ramsey, was about to be hung.
~*~
When they were finally alone in the tiny room behind the chapel, David grabbed Evan by the front of his cassock and whispered furiously, “What have you gotten us into? Saying mass? In Latin! I’m not even Catholic!”
“I am… was… I’ve done this plenty of times. Don’t worry. The bigger problem is how do we get them to drop the charges against the Lady Margaret?”
David scratched at his chin. “We could cheat.”
“Cheat how?”
“We could use our…” David started to say, but Evan leapt forward and covered his mouth with one hand, shaking his head and waggling a finger at him.
“Ah, ah, ah. Rule two,” Evan reminded him. They weren’t allowed to mention their powers, ever. It made working together in the field a little difficult at times, since they weren’t mind readers, yet. They were still developing shorthand and code for these kinds of situations. “But, I suppose asking for a little angelic blessing wouldn’t be amiss, especially today, eh? Let’s go see what we can do.”
David trailed after Evan through the chapel, which was a large open room with no benches. It was like no church David could ever remember seeing. “Where are the seats?”
“Offer up your discomforts as a sacrifice to the Lord,” Evan intoned. He tilted his head towards the people gathered near the door listening intently to their conversation. As they walked over to them, David mimicked Evan’s posture and bearing, folding his arms inside the arms of his robe and bowing his head.
“I would like to hear the Lady Margaret’s final confession,” Evan said.
A tall man crooked a finger at them. “I shall take you to her, Father.”
They were led to the manor. Bypassing the main house; they were led to a small stone outbuilding behind the kitchens. A guard stood outside the door and two others were milling around nearby.
“The smokehouse? Surely you are not keeping the poor woman in there?” Evan demanded angrily as he realized the purpose of the tiny stone shack.
“We have no dungeon here, Father,” the guard protested. “The seneschal said to lock her up.”
Evan gestured at the door. “Let her out of there. Immediately! Not only is she the rightful lady of the manor, she is a child of our Lord, not a hank of meat to be cured.”
“She’s a witch!” one of the guards protested.
“Allegedly,” David said to the guard, who gave him a blank stare.
“Her guilt or innocence has yet to be proven,” Evan interpreted, pointing imperiously towards the smokehouse. The guard shrugged and opened the door.
A woman, clad only in a simple cream colored linen under-dress, staggered out. She coughed and wheezed and fell to her knees. Evan and David ran forward. “Smoke inhalation,” Evan whispered to his partner.
Putting an arm around the woman, Evan called to the guards, “We will hear her confession in the blessed chapel, in the sight of God. There she shall wait for justice.”
Between them, they carried the woman back to the chapel. Once inside, they took her to the altar and sat her on the short step up. Evan placed a hand over her heart and invoked a bit of healing. It took a little while, since healing was not really one of the Protector’s strengths while in human form on Earth, but this simple case of smoke inhalation was something they could take care of. “I am Father Evan, this is Father David. We’re here to help you, Lady Margaret, please be at ease.”
Eventually, she took a deep breath and smiled up at them. “My thanks for your timely arrival, Father Evan, Father David.”
Gesturing at the hovering guards, Evan ordered, “A confession is a private thing, outside with you!” When they were alone, Evan said, “Now, Lady Margaret, why have they accused you of this crime?”
“I am a God fearing woman. The Lady Beatrice has made this false claim. She was to wed Sir Randolf, but he has gone off before the wedding to serve with Richard in the Holy Land. She has always been jealous of my marriage to Stephen; I fear that this is her way of getting him.”
“On what grounds does she make this accusation?” David asked. He was trying to wedge his feet up under his butt to get them warm. It was far too cold to be wearing sandals. He wished he had socks.
Lady Margaret’s lower lip trembled. “She claims I came to her in dreams. She said in these dreams I foretold the death of Sir Randolf and that I cast spells upon her to wither her womb and make her barren. Father, how is one able to defend against another’s dream?”
“What does your husband say to this?”
“He has gone to settle with Lord Phillip, he does not know of any of these tidings yet.”
Evan shook his head and remarked, “Convenient timing.”
“Very,” David agreed.
“Lady Beatrice waited for Michaelmas to make this accusation, knowing that Lord Phillip usually keeps his vassals for several days when they travel to see him.”
She dropped her face into her hands for a moment to calm herself and then told them, “Stephen’s seneschal was born and trained on the estate of Lady Beatrice’s father. He has always disliked me and was quite happy to send for the Sheriff as soon as The Lady Beatrice made her claims against me. He would be quite content to serve her, should she become Lady here upon my death. I believe they work together and mean to see me hanged before Stephen returns.”
“Not cool,” David muttered, earning a disapproving look from Evan. Remembering where and when he was, David tried to cover his slip saying, “Father Evan is no fool, Lady Margaret. I am sure he will think of something.”
Evan patted his charge’s hand. “Where is the Lady Beatrice now?”
“Likely sitting in my husband’s hall, burning my husband’s wood, drinking my husband’s wine and using all my best tapestry wool in her embroidery.”
“She’s in your house?” David exclaimed in surprise.
She nodded. “She is a guest of my husband’s sister.” There was a ruckus at the door. A man dressed in traveling clothes strode into the chapel. “The Sheriff,” Lady Margaret identified the man for them in an undertone.
“Good fathers, Lady Margaret. It appears there is some unpleasantness here that needs to be addressed,” the man said as he approached the altar and the people sitting upon the step.
“Indeed. But not in the house of the Lord. We shall adjourn to the manor. I am certain a simple test shall put all of this to rest,” Evan stood and straightened his robe, then offered a hand to the Lady Margaret.
~*~
“What do you have in mind, Ev?” David asked in a whisper as they returned to the manor. A large crowd was gathering; word had spread that the Sheriff had arrived.
Evan winked at him. “Meddling.” Then Evan called out, “Sheriff! This could all be settled by a trial.” At Evan’s words, the Lady Margaret clutched at David’s sleeve fearfully. He gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile.
Seeming taken aback by someone treading on his prevue, the Sheriff snapped, “There are laws to be followed, good Father.”
“A trial by fire is well within the law.” There were gasps from the crowd and a few cries of outrage. “If the Lady Margaret is innocent, then there is naught to fear by facing the fire. While someone gathers firewood, I would like to hear the accusation of witchery from the Lady Beatrice with my own ears.”
“I shall take you to her,” a man offered.
Evan declined. “I prefer to remain where all may hear the words, please ask the Lady to come outside. She should bear witness to what her condemnation has wrought.”
The thought that went through David’s mind when a skinny, dark haired, pinch-faced woman appeared at the doors of the manor house was that the wrong woman was on trial for witchcraft. He smiled as Evan pointed at her dramatically. “You claim the Lady Margaret has bewitched you.”
“She invaded my dreams to taunt me with the death of my beloved Randolf at the hands of infidels. She cursed me with a childless life.”
“Is it possible that these are your own fears and your own nightmares, Lady Beatrice?” Evan asked.
She glared hatefully at Lady Margaret. “I would not dream of her! She has done this to me. She has wished ill upon my house.”
Firewood had been stacked nearby. Evan frowned at Lady Beatrice and turned to the crowd. “On this day, when we celebrate the feast of the Archangel Michael, I would charge the angels to look down and intercede on behalf of one of Heaven’s own. If the Lady Margaret is innocent, then she has nothing to fear from a test of faith.”
Walking over to the Lady Margaret, Evan held out a hand and spoke for the benefit of the crowd. “Please come with me.”
She hesitantly slipped her hand into Evan’s and stepped away from David. David whispered, “I hope you know what you’re doing, Evan.”
Leaning towards the Lady Margaret, Evan said quietly, “Don’t be afraid, my dear, you walk with the angels today.” He stopped before the pile of wood. “Just step into the center, and face your accuser. Everything is going to be fine; you have my word, the fire will never touch you.”
She hesitated, looking at him with wide eyes. He squeezed her hand. “Trust in the truth. The truth will set you free.”
Evan smiled as she gave a brisk nod and set her jaw stubbornly. With grace and dignity, she lifted the hem of her shift and stepped over the wood, taking her place in the center. She turned and leveled her gaze at the Lady Beatrice.
“Have you anything to say to your accuser, Lady Margaret?”
“I shall not speak to this liar. She has come into my husband’s house and betrayed his hospitality with her false tongue.”
David, standing nervously beside the ring of firewood, watched and wondered how they were going to get her away from the fire without revealing themselves. He cheered inwardly at Margaret’s words, admiring her courage. He was not certain that he could be as calm as she appeared to be, had he been the one standing in the middle of the fire pit.
“Lying is a sin, Lady Beatrice,” Evan said meaningfully, glancing at the woman over his shoulder, apparently giving her another chance to revoke her claim.
“Witchcraft is an abomination,” she retorted.
Turning away from Margaret and advancing towards Beatrice, Evan scratched his chin thoughtfully. “It is said that the devil whispers into the ears of the weak willed in the night. It is rumored that the devil speaks to his own in dreams, gives them instructions to carry out in the light of day. Perhaps the wrong woman is facing the flames?”
Beatrice took a step back as all eyes turned towards her and the crowd began to murmur rebelliously. The people of the manor had not wanted this travesty of a trial; they had not wished to see their lady burned. David lifted a hand to cover the smile that he couldn’t stop from sneaking onto his face as Evan shifted the blame from accused to accuser.
“A withering spell cast upon my womb!” Beatrice cried, clutching her belly and bending slightly as if she had been struck.
Evan crossed his arms and frowned. “And by what means could you possibly know this, Lady Beatrice? You are an unwed spinster, never touched by a man. Methinks your claim of a ruined womb is a bit premature.”
“My dreams were poisoned. She did it!” Beatrice screeched. Then she clasped her hands to her head, went to her knees and screamed. “She drives needles into my mind. She is trying to kill me now! I feel fire, I burn inside!”
“Oh, please,” David mumbled at the histrionics.
The Sheriff pointed to Lady Margaret. “Test her.”
Shaking his head in mild disgust, Evan slowly stepped aside as two men rushed forward with lit torches. David took note of their faces; they were a bit too eager to see the lady put to the flame. The torches were touched to the ring of wood surrounding the Lady Margaret. Women shrieked and men called out in protest as the kindling flared and the ring began to burn. The noise died away, everyone watching the flames expectantly.
“Heaven protects the innocent,” Evan called when the fire flickered out. A few wisps of smoke drifted through the air, the only proof that a fire had been there at all.
“More wood, light it again,” the Sheriff ordered. He ordered it repeated again when the second result was the same as the first.
David could see that Evan was growing impatient by his partner’s posture. He was irked as well, surely two fires going out was proof enough? He saw Evan look skyward as the torches were put to the new firewood, now piled as high as the Lady Margaret’s knees. She remained calm as she stood in the ring, her eyes on Evan. This time the fire took. The flames shot up in a wall to block the Lady Margaret from view. The crowd reacted with cries of disbelief and denial.
Watching Evan for a cue, he saw the tilt of Evan’s head towards the flames. As he looked at the flames, David could make out the shape of wings forming within the flickering blaze. He pointed and shouted, “A sign! Look, a sign.” Glancing at Evan, he saw the nod of approval and he added, “The wings of angels appear in the flames!”
Gasps and shrieks came from the crowd as people noticed the apparition in the fire that surrounded and hid the Lady Margaret from everyone’s sight. If things were out of control, David knew Evan would not be standing there calmly, with his eyes on the flames. He was completely in control of this spectacle.
The flames suddenly coalesced into the shape of wings, flared out as if in flight and then dissipated upwards towards the heavens. Standing unharmed in the circle of smoldering wood was the Lady Margaret. Before anyone else could speak, Evan shouted, “The Lady Margaret has been spared by the hand of heaven. Let no one say otherwise.” He kicked aside the firewood to leave a gap and then held a hand out to the Lady Margaret. With an expression of relief, she clasped his hand and stepped through the ring.
There were cheers as she was led back towards the doors of the manor. She smiled at the calls of support and the blessings from her people. As she reached the doorway where Lady Beatrice huddled on the ground, still clutching her middle, Lady Margaret said, “I think perhaps my husband’s house does not agree with you, Lady Beatrice. Perhaps it is best that you find another table to take your Michalmas feast upon.” With her head held high, Lady Margaret raised the hem of her shift and swept past her accuser.
~*~
As his feet hit the hot sand, David let out a loud sigh of relief. “I thought my feet would never be warm again.”
Evan chuckled as he spread his towel and flopped down upon it. “You know you have the ability to take care of that kind of thing?”
“Huh? I do?”
“Of course you do.”
Sitting beside him, David frowned. “You have to show me how to do that, before we have to go to Siberia or Alaska or Canada to protect someone.”
“All in your head, Grasshoppper, all in your head,” Evan smiled and wriggled a bit until he was comfortable in the sand. “Hey, didn’t you promise me a daiquiri before our vacation was so rudely interrupted?”
The EndOriginally posted at http://rinkafic.dreamwidth.org/
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis - AU
Series: a little snippet from the Angel ‘verse
Characters/Pairing: Lorne/Parrish, OCs
Rating: Gen
Orientation: Gen (but you can squint for your slash if you like)
Word Count: 3,251
Prompt: Alternate Universe Bingo Fill: “Middle Ages”
“Evan, we’ve got a key!” David called down to him from the railing of the deck. The sun was warm and the sand was cozy and Evan really didn’t want to move. He tried to ignore his partner.
But David was still new enough at being a Protector that he was excited at the prospect of another case. He wasn’t going to let Evan roast himself on the lovely white sand. He sighed as David’s shadow fell over him, blocking the sun.
“Go ‘way! Unless you have the daiquiri you promised me.”
“No! Duty calls, we have to go. Vacation over!”
“We just got here.” Evan whined as David grasped his arm and tugged him up.
“And we can come right back when we finish. Time’s a wastin’ hop, hop.”
Evan sighed and took hold of the key, invoking the blessing needed to give him the information about their new charge as David smiled and did the same.
The tropical sun of the Virgin Islands disappeared, replaced by gray cloudy skies.
“Where are we?” David asked, looking around.
Surveying the countryside, Evan sniffed the air. “Sheep.” He looked down to see that his swim trunks had been replaced by an itchy brown cassock. Beside him, David was fingering the string of prayer beads that hung suspended from his waist and lifted the hem of his robe to show woven sandals on his feet.
The sky rumbled with thunder and it began to rain. “Not sure, but if I had to guess, I’d say England.”
“We’re priests? Hey, my feet are cold.”
Evan began to chuckle as he pulled his hood further down over his face and tucked his arms into the wide sleeves.
“What’s so funny?” David demanded as Evan’s chuckle became a full blown laugh.
“We really are here doing the Lord’s work!”
Thankfully the rain let up, though the sun didn’t come out. David was miserable because his toes were frozen. The followed the road to a village in the shadow of a large manor house. Everywhere there were people working to bring in the harvest.
A man spotted them and shouted, “We’ve priests come for Michaelmas! We’re surely blessed!” People set down the baskets and bundles and rushed over to Evan and David, calling out happy greetings.
“You’ll say the mass, won’t you father? A real mass for the holy day. It has been many years since our village has been so blessed.” The woman asking was probably only in her forties, but she looked so much older to David’s eyes, her hair was graying, she was pock-marked, stooped and missing teeth.
“Father David and I will be glad to celebrate the feast of the Archangels with you. Will someone show us to the chapel, so that we may prepare?”
David was a little panicked by this prospect. He gulped nervously. “Yes, Father Evan and I need to prepare.”
They were escorted to the chapel, a small stone building near the gates to the manor house. Evan glanced at the gates and asked one of the men accompanying them, “Will the Lord and Lady be coming to services?”
The small crowd fell silent. One of the older men said quietly, “The Lady Margaret is a witch, Father, Lord Ramsey’s seneschal sent for the sheriff.”
“Is she now?” Evan asked.
“They’re going to hang her,” someone called, and the crowd began to murmur unhappily.
It seemed their charge, Margaret of Ramsey, was about to be hung.
~*~
When they were finally alone in the tiny room behind the chapel, David grabbed Evan by the front of his cassock and whispered furiously, “What have you gotten us into? Saying mass? In Latin! I’m not even Catholic!”
“I am… was… I’ve done this plenty of times. Don’t worry. The bigger problem is how do we get them to drop the charges against the Lady Margaret?”
David scratched at his chin. “We could cheat.”
“Cheat how?”
“We could use our…” David started to say, but Evan leapt forward and covered his mouth with one hand, shaking his head and waggling a finger at him.
“Ah, ah, ah. Rule two,” Evan reminded him. They weren’t allowed to mention their powers, ever. It made working together in the field a little difficult at times, since they weren’t mind readers, yet. They were still developing shorthand and code for these kinds of situations. “But, I suppose asking for a little angelic blessing wouldn’t be amiss, especially today, eh? Let’s go see what we can do.”
David trailed after Evan through the chapel, which was a large open room with no benches. It was like no church David could ever remember seeing. “Where are the seats?”
“Offer up your discomforts as a sacrifice to the Lord,” Evan intoned. He tilted his head towards the people gathered near the door listening intently to their conversation. As they walked over to them, David mimicked Evan’s posture and bearing, folding his arms inside the arms of his robe and bowing his head.
“I would like to hear the Lady Margaret’s final confession,” Evan said.
A tall man crooked a finger at them. “I shall take you to her, Father.”
They were led to the manor. Bypassing the main house; they were led to a small stone outbuilding behind the kitchens. A guard stood outside the door and two others were milling around nearby.
“The smokehouse? Surely you are not keeping the poor woman in there?” Evan demanded angrily as he realized the purpose of the tiny stone shack.
“We have no dungeon here, Father,” the guard protested. “The seneschal said to lock her up.”
Evan gestured at the door. “Let her out of there. Immediately! Not only is she the rightful lady of the manor, she is a child of our Lord, not a hank of meat to be cured.”
“She’s a witch!” one of the guards protested.
“Allegedly,” David said to the guard, who gave him a blank stare.
“Her guilt or innocence has yet to be proven,” Evan interpreted, pointing imperiously towards the smokehouse. The guard shrugged and opened the door.
A woman, clad only in a simple cream colored linen under-dress, staggered out. She coughed and wheezed and fell to her knees. Evan and David ran forward. “Smoke inhalation,” Evan whispered to his partner.
Putting an arm around the woman, Evan called to the guards, “We will hear her confession in the blessed chapel, in the sight of God. There she shall wait for justice.”
Between them, they carried the woman back to the chapel. Once inside, they took her to the altar and sat her on the short step up. Evan placed a hand over her heart and invoked a bit of healing. It took a little while, since healing was not really one of the Protector’s strengths while in human form on Earth, but this simple case of smoke inhalation was something they could take care of. “I am Father Evan, this is Father David. We’re here to help you, Lady Margaret, please be at ease.”
Eventually, she took a deep breath and smiled up at them. “My thanks for your timely arrival, Father Evan, Father David.”
Gesturing at the hovering guards, Evan ordered, “A confession is a private thing, outside with you!” When they were alone, Evan said, “Now, Lady Margaret, why have they accused you of this crime?”
“I am a God fearing woman. The Lady Beatrice has made this false claim. She was to wed Sir Randolf, but he has gone off before the wedding to serve with Richard in the Holy Land. She has always been jealous of my marriage to Stephen; I fear that this is her way of getting him.”
“On what grounds does she make this accusation?” David asked. He was trying to wedge his feet up under his butt to get them warm. It was far too cold to be wearing sandals. He wished he had socks.
Lady Margaret’s lower lip trembled. “She claims I came to her in dreams. She said in these dreams I foretold the death of Sir Randolf and that I cast spells upon her to wither her womb and make her barren. Father, how is one able to defend against another’s dream?”
“What does your husband say to this?”
“He has gone to settle with Lord Phillip, he does not know of any of these tidings yet.”
Evan shook his head and remarked, “Convenient timing.”
“Very,” David agreed.
“Lady Beatrice waited for Michaelmas to make this accusation, knowing that Lord Phillip usually keeps his vassals for several days when they travel to see him.”
She dropped her face into her hands for a moment to calm herself and then told them, “Stephen’s seneschal was born and trained on the estate of Lady Beatrice’s father. He has always disliked me and was quite happy to send for the Sheriff as soon as The Lady Beatrice made her claims against me. He would be quite content to serve her, should she become Lady here upon my death. I believe they work together and mean to see me hanged before Stephen returns.”
“Not cool,” David muttered, earning a disapproving look from Evan. Remembering where and when he was, David tried to cover his slip saying, “Father Evan is no fool, Lady Margaret. I am sure he will think of something.”
Evan patted his charge’s hand. “Where is the Lady Beatrice now?”
“Likely sitting in my husband’s hall, burning my husband’s wood, drinking my husband’s wine and using all my best tapestry wool in her embroidery.”
“She’s in your house?” David exclaimed in surprise.
She nodded. “She is a guest of my husband’s sister.” There was a ruckus at the door. A man dressed in traveling clothes strode into the chapel. “The Sheriff,” Lady Margaret identified the man for them in an undertone.
“Good fathers, Lady Margaret. It appears there is some unpleasantness here that needs to be addressed,” the man said as he approached the altar and the people sitting upon the step.
“Indeed. But not in the house of the Lord. We shall adjourn to the manor. I am certain a simple test shall put all of this to rest,” Evan stood and straightened his robe, then offered a hand to the Lady Margaret.
~*~
“What do you have in mind, Ev?” David asked in a whisper as they returned to the manor. A large crowd was gathering; word had spread that the Sheriff had arrived.
Evan winked at him. “Meddling.” Then Evan called out, “Sheriff! This could all be settled by a trial.” At Evan’s words, the Lady Margaret clutched at David’s sleeve fearfully. He gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile.
Seeming taken aback by someone treading on his prevue, the Sheriff snapped, “There are laws to be followed, good Father.”
“A trial by fire is well within the law.” There were gasps from the crowd and a few cries of outrage. “If the Lady Margaret is innocent, then there is naught to fear by facing the fire. While someone gathers firewood, I would like to hear the accusation of witchery from the Lady Beatrice with my own ears.”
“I shall take you to her,” a man offered.
Evan declined. “I prefer to remain where all may hear the words, please ask the Lady to come outside. She should bear witness to what her condemnation has wrought.”
The thought that went through David’s mind when a skinny, dark haired, pinch-faced woman appeared at the doors of the manor house was that the wrong woman was on trial for witchcraft. He smiled as Evan pointed at her dramatically. “You claim the Lady Margaret has bewitched you.”
“She invaded my dreams to taunt me with the death of my beloved Randolf at the hands of infidels. She cursed me with a childless life.”
“Is it possible that these are your own fears and your own nightmares, Lady Beatrice?” Evan asked.
She glared hatefully at Lady Margaret. “I would not dream of her! She has done this to me. She has wished ill upon my house.”
Firewood had been stacked nearby. Evan frowned at Lady Beatrice and turned to the crowd. “On this day, when we celebrate the feast of the Archangel Michael, I would charge the angels to look down and intercede on behalf of one of Heaven’s own. If the Lady Margaret is innocent, then she has nothing to fear from a test of faith.”
Walking over to the Lady Margaret, Evan held out a hand and spoke for the benefit of the crowd. “Please come with me.”
She hesitantly slipped her hand into Evan’s and stepped away from David. David whispered, “I hope you know what you’re doing, Evan.”
Leaning towards the Lady Margaret, Evan said quietly, “Don’t be afraid, my dear, you walk with the angels today.” He stopped before the pile of wood. “Just step into the center, and face your accuser. Everything is going to be fine; you have my word, the fire will never touch you.”
She hesitated, looking at him with wide eyes. He squeezed her hand. “Trust in the truth. The truth will set you free.”
Evan smiled as she gave a brisk nod and set her jaw stubbornly. With grace and dignity, she lifted the hem of her shift and stepped over the wood, taking her place in the center. She turned and leveled her gaze at the Lady Beatrice.
“Have you anything to say to your accuser, Lady Margaret?”
“I shall not speak to this liar. She has come into my husband’s house and betrayed his hospitality with her false tongue.”
David, standing nervously beside the ring of firewood, watched and wondered how they were going to get her away from the fire without revealing themselves. He cheered inwardly at Margaret’s words, admiring her courage. He was not certain that he could be as calm as she appeared to be, had he been the one standing in the middle of the fire pit.
“Lying is a sin, Lady Beatrice,” Evan said meaningfully, glancing at the woman over his shoulder, apparently giving her another chance to revoke her claim.
“Witchcraft is an abomination,” she retorted.
Turning away from Margaret and advancing towards Beatrice, Evan scratched his chin thoughtfully. “It is said that the devil whispers into the ears of the weak willed in the night. It is rumored that the devil speaks to his own in dreams, gives them instructions to carry out in the light of day. Perhaps the wrong woman is facing the flames?”
Beatrice took a step back as all eyes turned towards her and the crowd began to murmur rebelliously. The people of the manor had not wanted this travesty of a trial; they had not wished to see their lady burned. David lifted a hand to cover the smile that he couldn’t stop from sneaking onto his face as Evan shifted the blame from accused to accuser.
“A withering spell cast upon my womb!” Beatrice cried, clutching her belly and bending slightly as if she had been struck.
Evan crossed his arms and frowned. “And by what means could you possibly know this, Lady Beatrice? You are an unwed spinster, never touched by a man. Methinks your claim of a ruined womb is a bit premature.”
“My dreams were poisoned. She did it!” Beatrice screeched. Then she clasped her hands to her head, went to her knees and screamed. “She drives needles into my mind. She is trying to kill me now! I feel fire, I burn inside!”
“Oh, please,” David mumbled at the histrionics.
The Sheriff pointed to Lady Margaret. “Test her.”
Shaking his head in mild disgust, Evan slowly stepped aside as two men rushed forward with lit torches. David took note of their faces; they were a bit too eager to see the lady put to the flame. The torches were touched to the ring of wood surrounding the Lady Margaret. Women shrieked and men called out in protest as the kindling flared and the ring began to burn. The noise died away, everyone watching the flames expectantly.
“Heaven protects the innocent,” Evan called when the fire flickered out. A few wisps of smoke drifted through the air, the only proof that a fire had been there at all.
“More wood, light it again,” the Sheriff ordered. He ordered it repeated again when the second result was the same as the first.
David could see that Evan was growing impatient by his partner’s posture. He was irked as well, surely two fires going out was proof enough? He saw Evan look skyward as the torches were put to the new firewood, now piled as high as the Lady Margaret’s knees. She remained calm as she stood in the ring, her eyes on Evan. This time the fire took. The flames shot up in a wall to block the Lady Margaret from view. The crowd reacted with cries of disbelief and denial.
Watching Evan for a cue, he saw the tilt of Evan’s head towards the flames. As he looked at the flames, David could make out the shape of wings forming within the flickering blaze. He pointed and shouted, “A sign! Look, a sign.” Glancing at Evan, he saw the nod of approval and he added, “The wings of angels appear in the flames!”
Gasps and shrieks came from the crowd as people noticed the apparition in the fire that surrounded and hid the Lady Margaret from everyone’s sight. If things were out of control, David knew Evan would not be standing there calmly, with his eyes on the flames. He was completely in control of this spectacle.
The flames suddenly coalesced into the shape of wings, flared out as if in flight and then dissipated upwards towards the heavens. Standing unharmed in the circle of smoldering wood was the Lady Margaret. Before anyone else could speak, Evan shouted, “The Lady Margaret has been spared by the hand of heaven. Let no one say otherwise.” He kicked aside the firewood to leave a gap and then held a hand out to the Lady Margaret. With an expression of relief, she clasped his hand and stepped through the ring.
There were cheers as she was led back towards the doors of the manor. She smiled at the calls of support and the blessings from her people. As she reached the doorway where Lady Beatrice huddled on the ground, still clutching her middle, Lady Margaret said, “I think perhaps my husband’s house does not agree with you, Lady Beatrice. Perhaps it is best that you find another table to take your Michalmas feast upon.” With her head held high, Lady Margaret raised the hem of her shift and swept past her accuser.
~*~
As his feet hit the hot sand, David let out a loud sigh of relief. “I thought my feet would never be warm again.”
Evan chuckled as he spread his towel and flopped down upon it. “You know you have the ability to take care of that kind of thing?”
“Huh? I do?”
“Of course you do.”
Sitting beside him, David frowned. “You have to show me how to do that, before we have to go to Siberia or Alaska or Canada to protect someone.”
“All in your head, Grasshoppper, all in your head,” Evan smiled and wriggled a bit until he was comfortable in the sand. “Hey, didn’t you promise me a daiquiri before our vacation was so rudely interrupted?”
The EndOriginally posted at http://rinkafic.dreamwidth.org/