I have no choice. A large man with muscular arms seized me and was carrying me to what I can now see is a carriage. He sits me on the seat, then throws my boots at me. He keeps my satchel, and begins searching through it. Another man, who is sitting opposite me, puts two metal bracelets joined together with a chain around my wrists. The carriage begins moving slowly, and I know what awaits me when I get back home. I try and think of happy thoughts, but I can't. "She was a struggler weren't she? That Fleur." Says one of the men. "Aye, struggled until we secured the rope round 'er neck. After that, she just smiled at 'er kids." Says another. I try and search my memories for somebody called Fleur. I mentally scan the village. The Baker's daughter? No. Landlady? No. Farmer? No. Mother? N- wait. The day I met Richard. "Unusual name." He says. "My mother likes flowers." I reply. Of course. My head has been full of who to trust ever since I left Boarshall. My mother. Fleur Bryce, the woman who escaped. "I'm glad we finally got her." Says Matthew Hopkins. "Me too," says the first man again. The realisation suddenly hits me. "Aye, struggled until we secured the rope round 'er neck. After that, she just smiled at 'er kids." My mother. Hanged. For witchcraft.
I thought I'd post a picture of them, so you can imagine them better: my description is terrible. Lotus and Richard
In no time, we are back in the village. The horses draw up outside the Church in the village square, and then I see it. The body of a skinny, one-legged woman, being dragged off the gallows. My mother. A large crowd watches. I can see Gale at the back of the crowd, his arm is around Jas. Another man is with them. He is tall, not much older than me. His features are stunning. Ashy blond hair that falls down his face in curls, and brilliant green eyes. I am distracted by a man pulling on my cuffs, he is leading me into the Church. I've only ever been in here on Sundays, when it's full, the whole village listening to the priest. Now, it's practically empty. One man kneels by the altar, praying. We walk past, and I can hear that he is praying for my mother. A tear forms in my eye. The men lead me through a door and down a narrow staircase. They throw me into what looks like a prison cell, with barred walls so you can see the other prisoners. To my right, is an old man who I've seen at the market, but I don't know his name. To my left, is my neighbour: Margaret. Her black hair is greasy, she's stick thin, and her body is covered in a thick layer of dirt. I can tell she's been in here a while. "I'm sorry," she says. "About your mother. My parents, they knew her. She was a lovely woman." "Thank you," I reply. "It'll be alright. You get to live a bit longer. I was supposed to be hanged, but I've just been here for a month." "Oh," is all I can say. She attempts a smile, but I can see the fear in her eyes. A little while ago, she was beautiful. Her blue eyes glistened. Now, you can see that she's been tortured. Most likely for information of my whereabouts.
That's so sad. I don't even get why they wanted to hang witches. Maybe they were jealous of the awesomeness.