The Firefly Witch (Bold Women of the 17th Century Series, Book 1)

by Amanda Hughes

  She followed them through the gate past the gallows. Three men were hanging from the crossbeam, their remains starting to bloat in the late afternoon sun. Carved into plaques of wood at their feet were their crimes, one was convicted of murder and the other two of burglary.

  No execution for witchcraft this time, Circe thought. At least not today.

  The soldiers left the road and crossed into a field behind the gallows.

  “Widow Swinburne!” she heard someone call.

  Cedric rode up and his expression was grim. “I must speak with you.”

  They dismounted in the shadow of the gallows. Cedric looked around, making sure they were not overheard and asked, “Has Duncan paid you a visit?”

  “He has.”

  “You and Dante must flee to Glendower. I am on my way to meet with Fawcett and Duncan to plead his case.”

  “Is this prudent? These men may find you suspect.”

  “I have met them on several occasions already and I believe I have their trust. Reverend Smith will meet me there.”

  “Who is that?”

  “He is the pastor in our hamlet. Constance and I have been attending services at the local church. I have been making connections in Boston as well, doing business with many of the more affluent residents, all in anticipation of something like this.” He looked one way and then the other and murmured, “I learned a long time ago that money and power can buy any man, regardless of his religious convictions. That is how I will obtain Dante’s freedom.”

  Circe swallowed hard and nodded.

  “I will leave immediately but what of Levi?” she asked.

  “Will I find him at the shop?”

  “No, he is with the courier.”

  “I will inform them to return to Glendower without delay.” He took her hand and patted it. “Take heart, child. We will prevail.”

  Taking a ragged breath, Circe watched him mount his horse. “Please tread lightly, sir.”

  “I shall. Now make haste,” he said, taking up the reins.

  Circe jumped back onto her mare and flew down the road. This time, when she arrived at the Lumpkin property, she rode past the main house down to the workshop. She slammed on the door and called, “Dante!” There was no answer. “Dante!”

  Bursting inside, she found the room empty. “Does the man ever stay home!” she exclaimed.

  Putting her hands to her temples, Circe tried to think of where to find him, but he had no routine. He could be anywhere from the taverns to a farmhouse delivering medicine. She wished Dr. Lumpkin was home. He could give her some idea, but he too was gone.

  Why am I doing this? I swore an oath to be through with this man, and here I am wringing my hands worrying about him. Circe waited for what seemed like an eternity, pacing and rushing back and forth from Dr. Lumpkin’s house to the apothecary shop and back again. She considered riding back to Boston to search the quayside but changed her mind. It was best to wait here. At sunset, she heard a horse galloping down the road. She ran outside the shop. It was Dante and he was riding at a furious pace. He jumped down when he reached her, grabbed her and barked, “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

  “And I have been looking for you! Dante, we must flee at once. The Witchfinder is coming for you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “They suspect you of dabbling in the dark arts, all because of your findings about the fungus.”

  “The damn fools.”

  “Arch Derwydd Rhys says we must go to Glendower at once. Why were you searching for me?”

  He opened his mouth, but changed his mind. “Come inside,” he said.

  There was the sharp report of a firearm just as he took her elbow. Wood cracked overhead as a musket ball hit the door. Dante pushed Circe over the threshold as another shot was fired.

  “Stay down!” he shouted, lunging for his musket. With the butt of his gun, he tore the oil paper from the window and scanned the clearing before swinging back against the wall again and waiting. There were no more shots.

  Satisfied they were gone at last, Dante wedged a plank against the door and helped Circe to her feet.

  “Who was shooting at us?” she asked, her heart pounding.

  He shook his head and poured them each some run. After taking a long drink, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and said, “Drink quickly. It’s dark now and we can travel.”

  “Dante, who was shooting?” she asked again. “And why were you looking for me?”

  “Everything will become clear very shortly. Now help me get ready for our journey. We must make haste.”

  With light packs on their backs, Circe and Dante followed a deer trail into the woods. The wind had increased, flinging branches wildly overhead. “Are we going to the Arch Derwydd’s residence?”

  “Yes, he can help.”

  “Hopefully he is back from town. I saw him on the road late this afternoon.”

  When they arrived at the property, Dante took Circe’s hand and led her down to the lake. Her stomach jumped. She remembered the last time she was here.

  She could see a bonfire and hear chanting as they drew closer. The words were in Latin and unrecognizable to her. He pulled her down into the brush when they reached the clearing. Thunder rumbled overhead.

  There were three figures in the firelight. They had joined hands and were standing inside a protective circle of salt. It was Cedric, Constance, and a man she did not recognize. He had his back to her. They were dressed in the sacred robes of the Derwydd. On the ground in front of them was a cloth she had woven. It was folded up neatly next to a mortar and pestle. What could they possibly want with her cloth? This was like no Derwydd ceremony she had ever seen, and a funny feeling crept up her spine.

  When they finished their chant, Constance bent down, picked up a goblet and passed it. Each one took a drink and after setting it down they began to chant again and sway.

  Wolves howled the distance and Dante looked sharply over his shoulder. The creatures were close if they could be heard over the roar of the wind. Circe jumped when she looked back at the fire. Grotesque faces and figures were forming in the smoke. They swirled, distorted and changed from hideous monsters to old crones and back again. She squeezed her eyes shut and reopened them to make sure she was seeing properly.

  Cedric rang a handbell, and joining hands, the three began to rotate in a circle. They continually chanted in Latin, spinning faster and faster.

  Circe’s palms began to perspire; she felt dizzy. It was as if she, too, was part of that circle. Dante tightened his grip on her hand. She tried to pull away, but it was like iron. Her heart was hammering in her chest so hard; she thought she would faint. She was terrified. Why has he brought me here? What sinister plan is this? He yanked her back down into the brush as she jumped to her feet. There was another crack of thunder.

  The group stopped spinning and Circe could now see the stranger’s face. Her jaw dropped. It was Dante! Dante! But how? She looked at Dante next to her and then back at the man by the fire. A twin! He has a twin!

  It started to pour and Dante pulled her to her feet. They ran down the path, leaving the macabre sight behind.

  Chapter 21

  They walked for an hour in the wind and the rain, but Circe did not mind. She was happy to be distancing herself from the sinister ritual.

  At sunrise just outside of town, they ducked into an abandoned shed to sleep. It smelled of livestock and they could hear mice scurry, but it was dry, and they were out of sight.

  “Let’s put the journey behind us before we speak of what we saw tonight,” Dante said, putting his coat over some straw. “It is more important we rest and get to safety.”

  “I agree,” she said, handing him a chunk of bread and some mead from her pack.

  When they finished eating, Dante nestled Circe under his arm and they slept. When they awoke it was midday, and the sun was high in the sky.

  They reached the road to Glendower several hours before sunset. �
�I don’t think we should go to town, Circe,” Dante said. “Can you get us to the Great Marsh instead?”

  She nodded. “Yes, but we cannot go on foot. We’ll have to take a skiff. This way,” she signaled and stepped off the path into the brush. They cut across a meadow, made a wide arc around the village and ended up where the villagers kept their watercraft.

  “This one will not be missed,” she said, pulling a small, weathered boat into the water.

  The sun came out briefly as they rowed downriver, drying their soaked clothing and wet hair. Dante surrendered the oars to Circe when they reached the marsh. Her knowledge of the terrain was so complete that every island, channel and grove of trees was familiar to her.

  On several occasions, as she guided the boat through the maze, she caught Dante watching her. He would hold her eye a moment and then look away. The small gesture sent a thrill through her.

  Circe hesitated when they rowed past Bullfrog’s landing. She should be there helping him with his grief, but she pressed on until they arrived at a familiar spot. After pulling the skiff to shore, Circe started up an overgrown path with Dante behind her. She had not been on the trail since she was a girl. At last they arrived at the abandoned cottage. A pang of nostalgia flooded her. The yard was filled with weeds. The front door was ajar, and the thatch on the roof was rotting.

  “Who lived here?” Dante asked.

  “It belonged to my aunt and uncle. We will be safe here.”

  It started to rain and Dante grabbed an armful of firewood following Circe inside the cottage. Everything was as she had left it years ago.

  “I was the last person here,” she said.

  “You lived in this house?”

  She nodded. “I lived here for several months after they died, but there was an Indian raid; I fled. That’s when my father found me and brought me to Glendower. I never came back.”

  “Until now,”

  “Until now,” she echoed.

  Circe could feel her Aunt Faye’s presence. She looked around the cottage. It was filthy. “Someone has been living here,” she said, taking up a broom to sweep acorns and mouse droppings from the floor. “And they weren’t human.”

  After clearing the chimney, Dante built a fire in the hearth and another one under the crucible outside to boil water.

  “Here, I brought this for you,” he said, opening his pack and throwing garments to her. “You bathe while I boil our clothes.”

  Dante brought in hot water and Circe bathed in a small tub, scrubbed her hair and put on his shirt and britches.

  He laughed when he saw her. “You are swimming in those.”

  “I am,” she said with a smile, trying to straighten her tangled locks with her fingers.

  They sat down to eat in front of the fire after Dante bathed and changed. It felt cozy in the cottage with the rain hammering on the roof and the fire crackling.

  “I would stay here forever if I could,” Dante said. “It seems to be the only place I can keep you safe.”

  “Someone has been trying to take your life, not mine.”

  “But I fear that you, too, are now in their sights.”

  “It’s time to tell me everything, Dante,” she said, frowning.

  “Very well,” he mumbled, rubbing his forehead. “To begin, that ritual we watched by the lake was intended to harm us. They had a robe you had woven and my mortar and pestle. I am afraid Arch Derwydd Rhys is not who we think he is.”

  Circe shook her head in disbelief. “It would seem so, but still, I am confounded. He has been a trusted friend of my father for years. How did you find out about him?”

  “Everything became clear when I paid him a visit a few days ago. He was unaware of it, but I saw him in the oak grove with Constance and my brother, Gregorio. All three were naked and engaging in carnal acts.”

  Circe’s jaw dropped. “What! Cedric and his own daughter?”

  “Constance is most certainly not his daughter. Her real name is Berwyn Braith. She is one of the most powerful sorceresses in all of Europe. I believe she has masterminded this treachery.”

  “How did you discover her identity?”

  “I saw a large brand burned into her back, and when I described this unusual mark to Dr. Lumpkin, he recognized it at once. The Derwydds administer it. They have branded someone only one time in the past seventy-five years, and that was Berwyn Braith.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “It is reserved for a Derwydd who has abused power and committed heinous crimes in the name of the Goddess. She was cast out from the order.”

  “This is all so unbelievable!” Circe exclaimed. “She had me hoodwinked from the start. She was so demure and sweet.” Then she looked sharply at Dante. “I saw you coupling with her at the Grand Portal on Calan Mai. Was that you or--”

  “Gregorio,” he said. “I was far more interested in the weaver with the fiery red hair. Is that why you refused to see me?”

  “That was one reason. The other was I heard you were married.”

  “Again, Gregorio. It seems he has been frequenting the taverns and the rum has loosened his lips.”

  “Why did you never tell me about him, Dante?”

  “I thought he was dead, lost at sea. But, in truth, I was afraid to let you into my world. It was too dangerous.”

  “And your twin was alive all this time.”

  “The damned coward must have feigned his own death.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he knows I will kill him,” Dante stated.

  Circe stared at him, stunned. The magnitude of everything he had told her was staggering.

  Dante continued, clutching tightly to the arms of his chair. “You see, when we were born, each parent took a child. I stayed with my mother and Gregorio lived with my father in Wales. I would see him every few years, but we were never close. I knew from the start that he was twisted, filled with jealousy and greed, and above all, I knew he was dangerous. I became an apothecary when we came into adulthood. He became an alchemist.”

  “Changing metal into gold?”

  “Transforming base metals into precious metals is one part of it and his favorite pursuit. I am guessing Cedric and Berwyn brought Gregorio to the Grand Portal hoping it would accelerate his powers and give them riches beyond measure.”

  “How is it that these three demons have come to know one another?”

  “I know not how Cedric and Berwyn met, but I do know they enlisted the help of Gregorio after my father refused them access to the map of thin places. Father knew of their malevolent intentions and in anticipation of his own demise, he delivered the map to my mother before he died. Gregorio appeared not a day later demanding it. I threw him out of the house, and that night my mother sewed the map into my jacket and told me to flee. I left for the Indies, not knowing the significance of the map or the fate of my mother. In an act of revenge, Gregorio turned my mother over to the Holy Tribunal.”

  “So your brother is responsible for your mother burning at the stake? Oh, Dante, no wonder you hate him so,” She jumped up, starting to pace. “So what of these attempts on your life?”

  “I believe Cedric is paying someone to kill me. If I am dead, then Gregorio can slip safely into my place here in the community.”

  “Ah, so that is why Cedric is trying so hard to dismiss the charges of witchcraft. If you are publically executed, Gregorio could never show his face again.”

  “Precisely.”

  Circe continued to pace and then stopped, saying, “Cedric has also been aligning himself with men in high places in the Bay Colony. The three of them could have unlimited power in the New World if your brother can create gold.”

  “I believe that is their greatest desire. How delighted he must have been when I washed ashore in Ipswich, linen map and all.” He chuckled and shook his head. “And a few months later, the sorceress appears. Together they become the sole guardians of the Grand Portal.”

  “Why do they want me dead?” Circe asked
. “What threat can I be to them?”

  “You are the only one who knows the difference between Gregorio and me.”

  “Not Dr. Lumpkin?”

  “I believe he could have been fooled, but now he knows everything.”

  With a sigh, Circe sat down again. “What should we do, Dante?”

  He shook his head. “Sadly, I have had all the answers for you until now.”

  * * *

  After taking several drinks of rum from the goatskin bladder, they stretched out before the fire and slept late into the next day. When Circe opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Dante’s arm around her. The sight of it touched her deeply. He was back in her world again, and she flooded with elation. Rolling over, she examined his face. Sleep was the only time she could really look at him. His dark eyes were so intense. She was seldom able to see anything else. Her immature longing for the Norse god was finished. This is who captivated her now.

  No, this is not the right time. There is too much happening, too much to think about; Cedric, Constance, Dante’s twin and living in a world without Ruith! She sat up abruptly.

  Her movement startled Dante. “What is it?” he said.

  “Nothing, a bad dream is all.”

  He reached up to pull her back down into his arms.

  “No, Dante,” she snapped, standing up. “I don’t want--”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  He rubbed his eyes. “Circe?” he asked, suspiciously. “You don’t want what?”

  She blurted, “I don’t know what I want.”

  He jumped to his feet and said, “You still don’t trust me after everything I already I’ve told you!”

  “I do trust you, but maybe,” she stammered. “Maybe we confused the power of the Grand Portal with sincere affection.”

  “We did not!”

  “We did! That momentary flood of emotion last summer by the lake was mere energy. Everything that came after may have been a misguided illusion.”

  He stared at her, dumbfounded. Suddenly he began cursing in Spanish and started for the door. He opened it with such force that it slammed against the wall.