Saying farewell, Goodwife Fawcett took her parcel and left.
Circe clutched her stomach. Dante has a wife! It cannot be! There must be some mistake. Certainly he would have told me. Feeling as if she would retch she started for the door.
“Widow Swinburne!” Cheeseborough called. “A moment, please.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and stopped with her back to him.
Sending his apprentice out on an errand, Cheeseborough rushed over to Circe. “You don’t know how it pleases me to see you in here at last,” he said eagerly. Picking up her hand, he put his wet lips on her palm with a kiss. “Our beneficent caretaker has deemed it.”
“Mr. Cheeseborough,” Circe said, pulling her hand away and wiping it on her skirt. “You are mistaken about my intentions. I am here to order some candles.”
“Ah, but our Lord knows the truth,” he said moving his large face close to her own. “You are lonely and--”
His breath was foul, and Circe turned away. “I must go.”
“Spare a moment for me, please,” he said, blocking her exit. He touched her cheek. “How I suffer for you. Surely you know that I watch you from my window at night. The silhouette of your figure behind the curtain fills me with desire. I know you linger there for my benefit.”
Her eyes grew wide and she slapped him across the face. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner!”
Yanking the door open, she walked outside.
“Tis God’s will, Widow Swinburne!” he called after her, but she did not respond.
* * *
Distraught and feeling betrayed, Circe lay awake that night staring at the ceiling. She chided herself for not listening to the voices who had warned her about Dante from the start. A wife! He has a wife! She ruminated about it endlessly, one-minute burning with jealousy while the next burning with remorse for bedding a married man.
“I cannot believe it,” she said out loud and rolled over. What other secrets does he have? And how does that sailor know him? Who is Dante De la Rosa?
Sleep eluded her for several nights. Her anger and hurt ran deep. She realized now that she had made a serious mistake. She had allowed this man into her heart. For days she went through the motions of living, speaking little and burying herself in work. She hoped Dante would show up with a plausible explanation, but he did not come. She told herself that he may still be recovering from his wound. But if that were true, how could he carouse in a tavern?
She longed for the past when her spirit was free. Life seemed like a heavy burden now. The cloth she created, usually so pleasing to her, now seemed uninspiring. She could no longer feel the pulse of the earth or delight in birdsong when she ventured outside.
Levi left for a visit to Glendower and Circe welcomed the solitude. It gave her the opportunity to sort through the myriad of feelings churning inside her.
Cheeseborough visited her on one occasion, but she met him with an icy demeanor. She was in no mood to make amends and endure a fresh set of advances.
After two weeks, the solitude that had been initially welcome now turned to loneliness. Nights particularly were challenging. Circe dreaded going to bed. All she seemed to do was toss and turn. After reading in front of the fire one night, she put on her cloak and went out on the front steps for some fresh air. The first thing she did was look for candlelight in Cheeseborough’s lodging; she didn’t want him watching her. It was dark, so she sat down hoping he was asleep.
The night was warm, and the snow was melting. Circe took a deep breath. The smell of spring was in the air. The moon was full, and it illuminated the quiet street lined with dark shops and dwellings. Ship bells were ringing from the quay in the distance.
Circe sat for a long time, trying to settle her mind while thinking of home and imagining the beauty of the Great Marsh this time of year. Little by little the birds would be returning. Ice would be melting and everything would smell fresh and new. The thought gave her hope. Perhaps she could sleep now. Just as she was about to go inside, the sound of hooves caught her attention. A dark figure rode down the street. The man carried himself proudly in the saddle and was wearing a cavalier style hat. She gasped. It was Dante.
Circe’s heart jumped into her throat. He didn’t even glance at the weaving room as he passed. He turned his horse and headed toward the docks.
She jumped to her feet, her chest heaving. He rode by as if it was routine. The words of Goodwife Fawcett echoed in her ears. “He frequents the taverns.”
How many nights has he passed by without bothering to stop?
She walked into the shop and slammed the door. He has bedded me and his conquest is complete. I have been such a fool.
* * *
Circe threw herself into work, determined to keep her mind off Dante. Levi returned from Glendower; they settled back into completing orders. The weather continued to warm and everyone predicted an early spring.
One afternoon, Levi came from market with news that two women had been hanged in Folkstone. “They were found guilty of conjuring and causing residents to see spirits,” he said.
Circe dropped her sewing into her lap and sighed. “Every day brings another hanging,” she said. “The entire colony has gone mad.”
Levi put his basket down and started unpacking it. “I worry about Glendower. If Duncan ever caught wind of our beliefs…”
Circe nodded. “Indeed. We can only hope that our protective circle is still effective. So many of us have been coming and going lately that the barrier may be growing weak. I feel as if my faith is growing weak as well.”
He stared at her with surprise. “That does not sound like you, Mistress.”
“Oh,” she said with a laugh. “It’s nothing, just talk. I am weary today. Tomorrow will be different,” and she went back to her sewing.
That night, Circe was startled by a knock at the back door. She put her quill down and closed her ledger. She had taken her hair down for the night and had on her shift and a wrap. She walked to the door and asked, “Who calls?”
“Dante.”
So at last, he comes. She set her jaw and opened the door.
“Hello, pequeño,” he said with a smile, removing his cavalier hat. He was dressed as he was the night she saw him going to the tavern. He ran his eyes over her and said, “You look beautiful. How I’ve missed you.”
“So you honor me with a visit,” she said.
“Of course, I came as soon as I was able.”
He tried to come in, but she put her hand to his chest. “So now you remember where I live?” she said, cocking her head.
He looked confused. “I’ve been sick, Circe, with the fever.”
“You believe me to be such a fool.”
“What are you talking about? You’re angry I have not come?”
“I care not,” she replied, raising her chin.
His eyes flashed. “It goes both ways, Mistress Swinburne. Why didn’t you come to see me?”
“Because it is over. All you have ever offered to me are secrets and silence. Who are you really? Who is the great enigma, Dante De la Rosa?”
He threw his hands up. “So I am to blame again! Very well, what do you want to know? I’ll tell you everything,” he barked, his accent growing thick along with his anger.
Circe froze. The moment of truth had arrived and it scared her. She did not want to hear about his wife. They locked eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but lost her courage. Instead, she stepped back and slammed the door in his face.
She heard a steady stream of Spanish curses coming from the alley as he walked away.
Chapter 20
Spring came at last to the Massachusetts Bay Colony. It was almost the first of May and Circe longed to be home. She knew the community would be preparing for Calan Mai. There was an air of excitement with that festival that surpassed any other holiday: the flowers, the ribbons on the Maypole, and the dancing that made the heart light after the struggles of winter.
Even though she could not a
ttend, Circe would celebrate the beauty and bounty of the Goddess with a trip to the Grand Portal. She wanted to see the lake during twilight again, especially with the springtime sun setting through the trees.
There was another reason for the journey, but she had not yet decided on its prudence. For weeks she had been grappling with the idea of asking Dante for an explanation about his wife. She believed now that she may have jumped to conclusions. The woman may be dead or the sailor may be lying. Yet would he see her again? He, too, had been furious. Nevertheless, she had to know the truth.
So, Circe decided to go when the first day of May dawned clear and warm. She had a great deal of weaving, but by afternoon her work was complete. She saddled her mare and rode out to Dr. Lumpkin’s property. She knew she should not ride without an escort, but the roads would be well-traveled on a day this grand.
She longed to be wearing one of her Celtic gowns and her bronze torque. At home, she would have her hair down and a wreath of flowers on her head, but instead she was dressed in the dull brown fabric of the Puritan with a stiff bodice. Her hair was hidden under a cap. But before she dismounted at the Lumpkin residence, she removed her coif and shook her head, letting her red curls fall around her shoulders.
She knocked on Dr. Lumpkin’s door.
“Come in. Come in Mistress Swinburne!” he chortled. “What a delight it is to see you on this beautiful day.”
“I will not impose, Dr. Lumpkin, but I wanted to greet you before I venture over to see Constance and her father.”
“Well, come in and have some May wine first. After all, this a festive occasion.”
It felt good to visit with him. Circe could relax and not have to censor every word. They sat together for over an hour, speaking of past Calan Mai festivals.
When she stood up at last to go, he said. “If I may be so bold, Mistress Swinburne, with your hair down today and your cheeks flushed you are positively lovely.”
She smiled. “Thank you, for springtime has that effect on us all. Now I will greet Mr. Rose before I go.”
“Oh, I am afraid he is out. He left shortly before you arrived. He keeps such unusual hours. I can’t say when he’ll return.”
Circe was disappointed. “I understand. Thank you again for your hospitality.”
She sighed as she mounted her horse. Speaking today with Dante was not meant to be.
Determined to retain her good spirits, she turned her attention to the fresh smell of spring, the wildflowers and the pale green buds on the trees. The setting sun was strong and it warmed her cheeks. It was dark by the time she reached Cedric’s home. But it was as Circe would have it. This was the time of day in which she communed best with the Goddess. There was no answer, however, when she knocked on the door of the Rhys residence.
There was a light flickering through the trees down by the lake. Cedric and Constance must have lit a Beltane fire, so she started down the path; but, no one was there when she arrived. The fire was ablaze but Cedric and Constance were gone.
Then something caught her eye. Two people were on the ground, naked by the fire. Circe’s eyes grew wide. It was Dante and Constance. He was on his back, and Constance was straddling him. Their skin glistened with perspiration in the firelight. Dante reached up and clutched her breasts, and Constance threw her head back overcome with passion. They were so engrossed in the act, they didn’t realize Circe was standing there.
She turned, sickened from the sight, and ran up the path. She would not seek any more explanations from Dante. She was through.
* * *
This time Circe buried her feelings. No more would she let that man keep her from happiness.
It was difficult smiling and pretending her heart was light at first, but gradually it became more natural. Nevertheless, she had changed. She was more seasoned, more mature and better for it. Now she savored beauty because she had experienced pain. She thanked the Goddess for revealing the darkness to her because the gift of light seemed sweeter. When it was showed to her in any form, she reveled in it and was grateful for its presence.
Dante came to see her shortly after her visit to the Grand Portal, but Circe did not answer the door. He even came to the weaving room one morning when she was at the market, but Levi told him that he did not know when she would return. So, he left a hastily scrawled note saying that he was sorry he had missed her, but nothing more. After that, he did not come again.
For all of her success presenting a cheerful facade, the unhappiness haunted her at night. She had a multitude of nightmares; many of them were about illness, death and violence. There were two that recurred and frightened her the most. In one she was stalked by a panther who was on fire, and in the other, the Grand Portal was belching black demons out of the earth. One night, Circe heard a voice after a particularly disturbing dream. “I am here for you now. You are no longer alone.”
She sat up, looking around the room “Who is it? Aunt Faye? Grandfather?”
“I am with you now,” the voice said.
Circe’s eyes grew wide. She could feel Ruith’s presence. “Ruith?” she cried, jumping out of bed. “Is that you?”
“Yes, my sister. I have crossed over.”
“No! Do not say you are gone from this earth!” Circe exclaimed, looking around the room. “Please tell me it’s not true. I need you!”
“Earthly bonds no longer sap my energy. My powers are strong again.”
“It’s too soon!” Circe cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You have so much to live for.”
“It is as it should be. I knew my fate from the moment I was born. This is the final task in my journey. I am here to help. Listen for me,” she heard her say from a distance, and a host of voices joined in saying, “Listen for us all.”
* * *
The news came from Saffir several days later that Ruith had died in childbirth. She had suffered little and her passing was peaceful. Ruith had given birth to a healthy baby boy named Terrwyn, and Saffir was staying in the Great Marsh to help Bullfrog adjust. In fact, all of Glendower was ready to help and at his disposal.
At once, Circe made preparations to return home. Grief-stricken and lonely, she needed to be with her family and see Bullfrog. He needed her.
Frantically, she tried to get organized for the journey since the courier from Glendower was scheduled to leave the next day. She was at the loom, trying to complete some linsey-woolsey when Levi asked, “Why is Cheeseborough talking to the Witchfinder General?”
Curious, Circe jumped up and looked out the window. “What mischief if this?” she mumbled, watching the two men. Suddenly, her eyebrows shot up. “Look, that insufferable chandler is gesturing this way.”
Joseph Duncan nodded and started for the shop. Circe scrambled back to her seat and Levi resumed treadling.
“Good day, Widow Swinburne,” Duncan said officiously as he walked into the weaving room.
“Good day, sir,” she replied. Circe had forgotten how massively built the man was until he entered the room.
“May I have a word with you, please?”
“Certainly,” she said, sliding out from behind the loom.
He looked at Levi. “Privately?”
Circe nodded to Levi and he went in back.
“I hope this day finds you well,” Duncan said.
“It does, thank you.”
“I will come right to the point. Are you acquainted with a man by the name of Daniel Rose?”
Circe’s stomach twisted. What does this monster want with Dante? “Yes, I am acquainted with him.”
Duncan narrowed his eyes and started rocking. “How well acquainted?”
“He placed an order here recently.”
“Do you know anything about his profession?”
“I know that he is an apothecary.”
“Do you know if he is involved in the dark arts?”
She feigned surprise. “My goodness; no, sir.”
Duncan started walking around the shop, running his eye
s over the door frame, the windows, the yarn hanging from the ceiling, and the spinning wheels. He looked down the hall toward the living quarters. “Is there a back door here?”
“Yes, there is. Why?”
“I suggest you keep it locked. I approached your neighbor, the good Mr. Cheeseborough to see if he is familiar with this Daniel Rose. Although he denies knowing him personally, he has reported seeing a dark-skinned stranger in the area frequently at night. After each occurrence, the chandler reported his milk had curdled.”
God’s bones, Circe thought. Can they be anymore simple-minded?
“Yet even more disturbing, he saw Rose duck down your alley and emerge moments later in the form of a black dog.”
“Really, Mr. Duncan, I--”
Duncan studied her face. “I would find this all very alarming if I were a woman alone.”
“I have my nephew.”
He grunted and nodded. “Yes, well thank you for your time, Widow Swinburne.”
Levi rushed into the weaving room the moment the door shut.
“I heard it all,” he said and looked out the window. “Now what is he doing?”
The Witchfinder General was examining the walls, windows, and foundation of their building.
“I am guessing he is looking for charms or any evidence of magic,” Circe said, trying to catch her breath. “Levi, this man is dangerous.”
“I fear for Mr. De la Rosa.”
Circe nodded. “I can’t leave for Glendower now. I must warn Dante. Find the courier and tell him that I cannot return with him tomorrow.” She picked up a quill, dipped it in ink and scribbled a note to her parents, informing them that she would make the journey to Glendower later. “Send this with him instead,” she said handing him the note. “I must find Dante at once.”
Circe and Levi left once Duncan and Cheeseborough disappeared down the street. Circe ground her teeth as she rode through the city. The streets were crowded with pedestrians, carts, and wagons. Vendors hawked their wares as Indians bartered with merchants. At the gate to leave town, she had to wait for a contingent of soldiers as they marched out of town. They were going to the fields to drill in anticipation of Wampanoag and Nipmuc raids. The regulars were sweating profusely in their metal corselets and helmets.
The Firefly Witch (Bold Women of the 17th Century Series, Book 1) Page 21