He stood from the bed and started to gather my things, putting them into a pillowcase for me. I realized that, like it or not, I was leaving. I followed suit and packed all that I could possibly need for a week's time away from home and away from Greer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
December 14th, 1734
The Late Evening
The small brick cabin was glowing with the fire that burned in the only hearth. I sat in a comfortable old chair in the far corner of the room, and pretended to be interested in embroidery, but I was in far too much pain to care. Sneachta was lying on her back near my feet and batting at the thread that was dangling from my hands.
The cabin was warm, clean and welcoming. This one small room served as a kitchen, sitting room and bedroom. I was seated in a chair that was closest to a small table where Martha would eat, fold laundry and do much of her housekeeping. On the other side of the room was a small bed where Martha slept, and another chair sat in front of the fireplace.
She had the cabin to herself, which she said was a privilege she gained through many years of loyal service to the Smith family. Most of the slave cabins were occupied beyond the true capacity, but slaveholders normally did not care about the comfort of their servants.
Martha was humming to herself as she washed rags in a cauldron that hung over the fire.
“I know how you are feeling dear. I remember how sick I would get during my cycle. I would cry in pain for days,” she said, as she wrung out strips of fabric and hung them to dry.
“I am all right,” I lied.
I did not want Martha to go out of her way for me anymore than she already had. I felt bad enough that I had to be smuggled into her home and that I disrupted her life.
Martha smiled a crooked smile and nodded her head, “Yes, you look very comfortable,” she laughed sarcastically. “Aislin you need to learn that it is okay to ask your family for help when you need it.”
She walked over to where I sat and placed her hand on my forehead. Her hand felt cold against my skin. Then she turned and started mixing herbs together in a mortar and pestle on the table.
I put down my sewing and went to help Martha, but as I stood, I felt rather dizzy and fell back into my chair.
“I am sorry Martha. I did not mean to be disrespectful, but I don't want to get in your way.”
Martha did not reply but smiled and patted my knee, “You are weak from your moon cycle, and you should rest . . . and keep pretending to work on that embroidery. I promised your mamma that I would get you to finish it.”
I looked down at the needlework and rolled my eyes. There was a soft knock on the door and Martha moved swiftly to answer it. She glanced back at me and I moved from the chair and into the shadows, just as she had instructed me to do. I was trying to work an invisibility spell, but just to be certain that I remained unseen, I crouched down low behind the table and piled laundry on top of me.
I heard Martha open the door and footsteps approaching as people moved into the cabin. My efforts at hiding were in vain. The laundry that I was hiding under started to get rather heavy. Someone was sitting on it—and on me. I burrowed through until I could look out and saw two big brown eyes looking back at me.
“Hi Miss Aislin!” A little voice said cheerfully.
“Hello Isaac,” I stood and picked up the small child. Isaac reached up to my head and plucked a sock from my hair.
“Why were you playing hide and seek with Grandma?” he asked innocently.
I laughed at his inquiry, “Because I was bored.”
“Now he'll be expecting me to play hide and seek every time he comes over,” Martha said while shaking her head in amusement.
I carried Isaac over to the chair where I had been sitting and he snuggled into my side.
“Miss Aislin, why are you here?” he asked, as he curled my hair around his fingers.
“Aunt Aislin,” I insisted.
“Only when we're alone though,” Becky quickly corrected.
“How are you Becky?” I asked.
Becky came over to where I sat and hugged me. She shook her head and sighed deeply, “Not well I'm afraid,” she looked at Isaac and then to Martha, her eyes were welling up with tears, “Aislin, could you watch Isaac while my mother and I go for a walk?”
“Of course.”
Becky and Martha then headed for the door, leaving Isaac and I alone together.
“Do you want to play hide and seek again?” Isaac asked.
I thought about it and realized that if he left the house to hide, we could both be in danger.
“No, but would you like to play with Sneachta?”
Sneachta, who had been sleeping, lifted her head, squinted her eyes at me, and hissed. She did not appreciate being used for entertainment, but I knew how to tempt her into cooperation. I handed a long piece of thread to Isaac and showed him how to shake it in front of her paws.
At first Sneachta acted indifferent, as she flicked her tail and yawned lazily. Isaac looked discouraged but he did not give up. He stuck his tongue out at her and then tried again, this time moving the thread around in snake-like motions. The temptation was too great and Sneachta took the bait. Isaac squealed with glee and laughed as Sneachta leapt in the air and swatted at the string. They went on to play like this for a long time before the cabin door opened and a solemn Martha and Becky both returned.
“I will take Isaac home and then I will come back.”
She reached out for her son. He followed obediently, but when he made it half way to the door, he broke free of his mother's grip and ran back to me. He threw his arms around me and hugged me tightly, “Good night Aunt Aislin.”
Then he climbed off my lap and ran back to Becky's side. Becky and I smiled at each other and then she led Isaac home.
********************
Becky came back only minutes later. She sat in the chair by the fire and stared at the dancing flames, as Martha told me what they had talked about in private.
“Thank you for watching Isaac. Becky didn't want to talk about her problems in front of him.”
“What is wrong?”
“Do you remember how Zachariah had intended to give Becky to you as a wedding present?” Martha asked.
“I nodded in reply and cast my gaze to Becky, who was deep in her own thoughts, perhaps she could not bear to listen to this story unfold once more.
“Well, Zachariah is no fool. He knows that you are fond of Becky and he is out for revenge. Zachariah told Becky tonight that she will be given to Abigail and her new husband as a wedding gift before they return to Virginia,” Martha said through gritted teeth.
“What?” I stammered.
Becky dropped her face into her hands and wept. I ran over and placed my arms around her. “We will find a way to get you out of this Becky. I promise,” I choked through my tears.
Martha continued to tell me the extent of the problem as I comforted Becky, “There is more to worry about though. Isaac is not the Marthaler's slave. He is the Smith's property and will not be able to go with Becky.”
At these words, Becky's whole body shuttered and she clung tightly to me. “I do not understand?” I said.
Martha paced the floor as she spoke, “You see, slaveholders have rules over every aspect of their slaves’ lives Aislin. We are not allowed to marry. At least they think they've stopped us from marrying, and if a slave has a child, then that child becomes property of the slaveholder. Some new mothers have their children taken from their arms moments after delivery, never to see the child again. Even if the slave was indentured and got to the end of their seven years of service, if they chose to leave and to be free, they would also choose to leave their child behind with the slaveholders. That is why I stayed here, so that I could be with Becky.”
I felt my throat constricting from the tears that I was struggling to hold back. My family did not own slaves and other than what my mother had told me, and the obvious aspects that I witnessed daily, there was much tha
t I did not understand. Now what I was learning was so enraging, so vile, that my whole view of humanity was changing. Then my mind drifted to the quintessential slaveholder, Zachariah.
“This must have been what Abigail had warned me about. She told me that her brother was up to something, and to be on guard. Maybe the Smith's can take Becky back?” I suggested.
“No, Zachariah will not allow that. He is doing this specifically to hurt you Aislin. He wants both Becky and Abigail to leave you. Worse still, we have heard many rumors about Sutphin's cruelty toward his help. He is said to be even worse then the Marthalers and finds pleasure in torturing his slaves, even when they do things exactly how he likes. People say that if he is not pleased with a female servant he will sell her to a brothel.”
“What about magic? Can we not find a spell that would stop this?” I was desperate to save Becky and would gladly risk the exposure of my magic to do so.
Becky and I stared at Martha with the same pleading expression. Martha was wise and powerful, and knew more about magic then Becky and I put together. Surely, she could do something to stop Zachariah.
Martha sighed, “Girls, you must remember that any spell we cast will come back to us three fold. It will take great thought to find a spell for this mess we're now in. I have no idea what spell we could cast, but I will ask for our ancestor's guidance.”
“I will too,” I replied.
I let go of Becky and reached into my pocket for the book, Sneachta leapt onto my shoulder and meowed. She also thought this was a good idea. I went to the table to place the book on it, but my attention was upon Martha.
I watched as she opened a hidden cupboard that blended into the cabin wall. Held inside of it was an altar. On the altar sat candles, flowers, a small pot of dirt, a handkerchief and nine glasses of water. She lit the candles with a wave of her hand and a strong magic filled the room, flowing through it as though carried by wind.
“The ancestors are with us tonight,” Martha said, with a tone of reverence.
Martha asked her ancestors for guidance and protection for all of us. She refused to rush into spell casting without great thought and consultation with the spirits beforehand. Becky and I understood, but were both restless and wanted to do something, anything, to place a plan into action. Martha saw the frustration that was churning inside of us and she suggested that I try scrying while Becky made us, and more importantly, the ancestor's supper.
I stood hunched over the table staring into a bowl of water trying to see anything that might be helpful, but my second sight failed me.
I was having a horrible time concentrating, as my thoughts were equally split between Becky and Greer. I had not seen Greer since the early hours of the morning, when he brought me to Martha's home and then disappeared into the darkness. I wondered if he had traveled far in search of food, or had chosen to stay close by and look after me.
I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to concentrate on him, wondering if I could sense him, but I felt nothing. I had grown accustomed to having him near me. This new separation, and the emptiness that accompanied it, was excruciating. I could not concentrate enough to scry, so I decided to pray to the Goddess for help.
I pulled a candle out of my pillowcase, lit it, and set it on the table. I said some incantations to bless the candle for my intentions and then proceeded to beg the Goddess for help. Sneachta stayed close to me as I quietly pleaded for guidance and intervention for Becky and Isaac's sake. By the time I had finished I felt calm, as though my words were heard and great magic was now working on our behalf.
Becky gently lifted my candle off the table and placed it near the hearth. I then got up and helped her set the table. Four place settings were laid out—one for Martha, one for Becky, one for me, and one for the ancestors.
That night, Martha helped me bathe and gave me medicine to help with the pains of my cycle. She tried to give me her bed and insisted that she would take the chair, but I refused. In the end, we shared the bed.
In actuality, it did not matter if I took the bed, the chair, or the floor itself—I could not sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Greer's face and I felt my soul try to pull right out of my body. It was a sensation that is difficult to explain, except to say that my spirit wanted so badly to be with Greer that it kept threatening to leave my body behind to search for him. In return, I felt overwhelming grief and anguish.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
December 16th 1734
I had not seen Greer, nor had I been home in two days. I had thought that he would have returned me to my parent's home each morning, the way he always did when I stayed with him at the Inn. I wondered how my mother explained my absence to my father. I would venture to guess that she said I was ill from my cycle and was held up in my room.
I was alone in Martha's cabin. Sneachta had gone to hunt, Martha and Becky were tending to their masters, and Isaac was with his father. I had hoped that Greer would see me alone and visit for a while, but as the hours slowly passed, I spent them in solitude.
I filled my time by practicing lighting a candle with my mind, and I found that I had mastered the exercise quickly. Martha had been teaching me much of her magic, and working with the element of fire had become one of my favorite tasks.
“It is not a simple trick for entertainment Aislin,” Martha said before she started to teach me, “This is a sign of a powerful witch and it is also extremely helpful when you need to perform your candle magic but do not have the means to light the candle.”
It had taken some practice, but after a while, I could see a little spark ignite. At the sight of this, Martha clapped her hands and smiled broadly, “That's it my little girl. You are doing it!”
Soon after that, with my confidence boosted, I lit a beautiful, tall and strong flame. Martha then began to teach me how to extinguish the candle in the same manner.
“This is just as important. There have been many occasions when just being able to turn out the flames in haste has saved me from being discovered in the Craft,” she said solemnly.
Now, days later, I sat in the chair, lighting and extinguishing the candle that was placed on the table before me, desperately waiting for any sign from the outside world. I had watched the sunrise this morning and had hoped that I would find Greer waiting for me, yet the morning greeted me with loneliness.
I was beginning to worry now. What if Lamont had caught Greer? Worse still, what if the Puca had gotten to Greer? These thoughts made me so anxious that I felt all the muscles in my shoulders and neck stiffen, causing my head to throb. I curled up into a ball on the chair and covered myself with the blanket that had been on my lap. Sleep finally came to me through sheer exhaustion.
********************
I moved slowly, with great care, as I had never attempted to leave my body on my own before. Last time Greer had guided me, but on this occasion, I found myself alone. I was not sure why my spirit had decided to travel cosmically. Perhaps there was something the Goddess wanted me to see.
I looked back at the chair and saw the covers moving up and down rhythmically. It was comforting to know that my body was still breathing. I walked around the little cabin until I gained enough courage and then I walked straight through the front door, leaving Martha's cabin behind me.
The day was still bright as I worked my way out of the slave quarters and onto the main thoroughfare. As I passed by a garden patch, I came across Sneachta, who was busy sticking her paw into a chicken coupe and making all the poor birds squawk and cluck in anger. As I passed her, I noticed that she stopped what she was doing and started to follow me. She trotted up beside me and walked at my heels as I moved along the street, not knowing what I was looking for.
“You can see me Sneachta?” I asked in amazement
She looked up at me and let out a soft 'meow' in reply.
“You really are a remarkable faerie,” I replied, “Do you know where I am supposed to go?”
She picked up her pace until she
was walking in front of me, guiding me through the crowd that was going about their daily lives.
Children were running about as their mother’s worked their way through the shops. A strong wind blew from the river, sending gusts of frigid air down the main streets. Businessmen pulled their coats tightly closed as they fought against the wind. Merchants went from store to store, their goods flying out of the baskets they carried. An occasional carriage made its way up the street and toward the port. Even the horses looked cold.
When we reached the tavern, Sneachta stopped outside the door and stared at it. I was supposed to go inside
“Ok, but you stay here,” I said.
Sneachta then leapt onto the trunk of a great tree that stood near the tavern door and climbed up. She finally rested herself on a long, thick branch that overlooked the tavern’s windows.
I walked through the doors, not knowing what to look for, but certain that something would guide me to where I needed to go.
Trust in the magic, I told myself.
The tavern was quiet. Only a few patrons were seated inside. I had never spent much time in this place, and as I looked around, I was surprised at how large it appeared. The room was adorned with many windows, which let in a decent amount of light, but the tavern was sparsely lit inside, only the tables where patrons sat had candles on them. Shadows veiled every corner and crevice of the room, giving the establishment an ominous air. There were many rectangular tables set up for patrons, and a large bar sat on the very left side of the room, with numerous stools placed in front of it. On the opposite side from the bar was a staircase that led to the lodging of the Inn.
I moved closer to see Zachariah and an older man sitting at a table, drinking and seeming to have a merry time. I thought that this must be where I was supposed to go, but I was tempted to go upstairs to Greer's room. I listened to their conversation for a moment. They were talking of the weather, of crops, and the local comings and goings of Burlington. From the sound of the conversation, it seemed as though the stranger wanted to purchase land here. Finding no great importance in their conversation I started for the stairs, but something caught my attention—a tugging on my dress, just like the day at the port.
Spellbound: The Awakening of Aislin Collins Page 20