Part 59 (1/2)

Mona remembered to breathe and the air whooshed out of her. Dizziness nearly overcame her, but she steadied herself-Arlana was looking right up at her. Why was she here? Had she come to watch the execution? That would be Mona's luck-the notorious recluse emerged from her hermit hole for a bit of diversion.

Arlana's gaze fastened on Mona, a.s.sessing, judging. The silence drew out interminably. Mona could hear her heart pounding against her ribs, her breath laboring with fear. The villagers were similarly quiet, everyone waiting with bated breath for Arlana to reveal her reason for venturing out of the wood.

”My apprentice is dead,” Arlana called out, her voice cracking as if she hadn't used it in years, never taking her eyes from Mona. ”I need another. She'll do.”

A soft murmuring began in the crowd and washed through them like a wave. Mona stared at the old woman incredulously. Though Arlana was much revered by the village she couldn't seriously expect them to just let Mona go because she said so.

The priest stepped forward, distressed. ”B-but she is a murderess-”

”I know what I know and you're wrong.” Her sharp gaze pinned the priest. ”She was telling the truth. Her husband was possessed.”

The crowd gasped and the priest swung around, wide eyes on Mona. His lips flapped but nothing came out. Without orders the executioner swiftly removed the rope from Mona's neck and cut her bindings, helping her gently down from the stool.

Mona looked out at the crowd, confused, trembling from the sudden reprieve. They eyed her differently now. She'd always been known as a healer, and yet all knew she was human, fallible-and of late, they believed her depraved. Arlana was viewed as something else, something otherworldly, beyond understanding. And she was good. A white witch. This is what Mona saw in their eyes now as they gazed at her. Wonder, as if seeing her for the first time.

Legs shaking, Mona descended the gallows steps. No one tried to stop her. As she neared Arlana, the villagers reached out to touch the old woman's skirts and her pony. Mona reached Arlana's side and gazed up at her. A small smile curved the witch's lips.

Mona shook her head slowly, unable to give voice to the emotions welling up in her chest, choking her. ”Thank you,” she whispered.

Arlana let out a short, breathy laugh as she tapped her pony's sides and gestured for Mona to follow her. ”You'll be cursing me afore this is over.”

It was a fine cottage-bastle house, really-with a s.p.a.cious upper floor and the lower floor devoted to livestock. It was precious few that didn't live intimately with the cows and chickens. The floor was not dirt but clean wooden planks. The wood creaked and groaned as Arlana walked on it and Mona feared it would give way under her bulk. But it held and the old witch lowered herself slowly and painfully onto the rug before the hearth. She waved a fat-fingered hand for Mona to build the fire back up. The silver rings on her fingers glittered in the dim light, shafts of weak sunlight from the open windows catching the cut edges of her jewels.

Arlana had spoken little to Mona on the long ride into the woods. Mona had tried to question the white witch about why she'd been chosen as the apprentice, for Mona had always thought Arlana's apprentice had to be a virgin. But Arlana only shook her head and bade her to be patient.

They'd had to stop frequently to rest the pony and Mona had been forced to help Arlana from her perch on the poor creature's back. Mona had never seen the like-Arlana's ankles were as big as Mona's thighs-and her feet were small, plump things, encased in silk beaded slippers. Mona knew well where all the finery came from. Scots and English alike traveled to her for healing remedies and fortunes. So far as Mona had heard, Arlana was never wrong. Though she never asked for a penny in payment she was always well rewarded.

”You should have come to me long ago,” Arlana said as Mona piled logs onto the dying embers.

Mona turned, frowning. ”Come to you?”

”When you first suspected your husband was... not right in the head.”

The slithering returned to Mona's belly as it always did when she was reminded of Edwin Musgrave. ”I couldn't. He wouldn't let me out of his sight.”

Arlana nodded sagely.

Mona leaned forward. ”Is it like you said? Was he possessed by the devil?”

Arlana scowled. ”How should I know? It isn't like the old h.o.r.n.y ever showed hisself to me.” She c.o.c.ked a dark brow. ”Not the Almighty, either-and me a white witch. Don't you forget it.”

Mona shook her head. ”But you said...”

”Never mind what I said. What's the matter with you, girl? Have you never told a lie?”

Mona placed her hands firmly on her hips. ”I don't lie.”

”Aye-that much is clear. That's why you found yourself on the gallows with a noose about your neck.” She snorted, shaking her head and pulling a wooden bowl near. ”She doesn't lie! Imagine that!” She pointed the pestle at Mona before smas.h.i.+ng it into the bowl. ”Thank the good Lord that I do lie, or you'd be swinging in the breeze, la.s.sie! Swinging in the breeze!”

Mona's hand crept up to her neck and she grimaced, ma.s.saging the suddenly sensitive skin. ”I am to be your apprentice...?”