The Cursed Village

The First girl (2)

On one of the benches in the temple lay Laura, on her back. Sir Robert was working in one of the back rooms, working out finances, or food supplies, or preparing for the feast, or something else. Most people were working in the fields, or at home, at this time of the day, leaving the temple entirely empty. From outside some noises from villagers could be heard, talking to the travelling merchants that had arrived. She breathed in the cold, stale air, mixed with the scents of flowers and a hint of the sea that came from outside. The calm of the temple was perfect for her right now; she didn't want people talking to her.

The words from Aunt Tess lay heavy on her mind. She hadn't been able to answer; a single question she'd asked: Why? Aunt Tess hadn't answered. Laura knew why; Aunt Tess hated Sir Robert. No, not Sir Robert personally. Aunt Tess hated the religion he stood for, the ceremonies, and most specifically, the Celebration of the Witch. Rumours, not confirmed by Aunt Tess herself, said that the old woman had lost her sister to the ceremony, and had hated it since. It was an unsubstantiated rumour too; the previous sacrifice hadn't been the sister. It would mean that Aunt Tess herself was almost sixty years old. That would have meant, Laura thought, that Aunt Tess was by far the oldest person in the village.

The entire concept of running away was ridiculous in Laura's mind. After all, without the ceremony the village would fall to ruin. Miscarriages, bad harvests, the land would be cursed according to history. Sir Robert had often said that in the annals of the temple there was a tale of a sacrifice who had run away. It had been the end of the village, or would have been, had she not been found by the villagers. Without ceremony she was then sacrificed to the witch, and children were born again, the fields yielded harvest again, and everything continued as it should have.

Laura let her hand hang down, and her fingers touched the cold stone floor. On the other hand, she thought, it was very tempting to run away with the merchants. See the world, get married maybe, become a normal part of society, and most importantly, live. Running away would grant her everything she could ever want, everything she could never get.

But was the destruction of the village worth that? She looked up at the hole in the ceiling, through which the sunlight shone into the otherwise dark temple. Around the hole were carvings, made however long ago. The same carvings that were around the base of the temple. Sir Robert had once told her they were a seal, to lock away the powers the witch had. The weathered away state of the top carvings had always made Laura doubt this; it was difficult to believe they would still perform their duty. Perhaps, she wondered, as she had wondered many times before, there was no witch at all.

She shook her head and sat up. Those thoughts were useless. If there wasn't a witch the ceremony would be useless, and she would die for no reason. That was something she did not want to consider, for even one moment.

'Good day, miss,' a man had entered the temple. Laura looked at him and recognised him as one of the two merchants. She greeted him back, a little sad that her sanctuary had been invaded.

The man sat down next to her: 'I heard there will be a celebration in this town soon? What is it for?'

Laura smiled and told the man he was welcome to stay until the celebration; after all, it was a treasured tradition of the village. There would be a procession from Witches Grove to the town square. Once it had arrived everyone would enjoy the feast, and celebrate until midnight. Once midnight came...

She stopped there, not willing to continue.

'Witches Grove? Is that the forest nearby?' the merchant asked. Laura nodded.

'According to legend it is where the witch was defeated and captured,' she explained.

'The witch. I've heard more people talk about that.' The merchant asked.

'The Witch of Senna Village was a monster,' Sir Robert's voice came from the front of the temple. Laura and the merchant both looked at him, and he smiled. He sat down in front of the two of them.

'She murdered many with her powers. Children, new-borns... they were her favourite prey. Women in childbirth too. She gained her powers from them, it is said. Eventually Lady Serena captured her in Witches Grove, which was then burnt down by the villagers, killing Lady Serena and weakening the witch. This life that Lady Serena gave for the village protects us from the witches curse and powers. Every twenty years we renew the seal Lady Serena placed on the witch, to ensure our prosperity. That is the celebration which will take place in seven days.'

The merchant smiled absentmindedly, 'How do you even know this is real?'

'This temple was built to seal the witch, to ensure she cannot escape. It is my duty to believe she is real, and to ensure she never escapes.'

Some shouts came from outside, leading to the merchant jumping up and running to the cause of the excitement. As soon as he left the temple Laura and Sir Robert were alone again. Laura sighed, and leaned backwards.

'Say, Sir Robert?' she asked. Sir Robert, who had been returning to the front of the church, stopped.

'What is it?'

'Do you ever regret... no.' she hesitated.

'Do I regret giving my life to a witch I might never meet?' he finished the sentence for her: 'Not at all. It is my duty.'

Laura sighed quietly, though Sir Thomas had still appeared to hear it.

'Do you feel regrets, Laura?' He asked.

'I don't know.'