Tebok Kai

written by Maisie Dawes

‘I can’t take the cabbages anymore. Every day, another cabbage.’

Squinting her eyes and scrunching her nose up to dispel the relentless stench entering her sinuses, Agnes helped herself off her wooden stool and went over to the hearth to stamp out the final embers before she made her way.

‘Come on, Alice, out of the way. It’s time for a trip to see Mary,’ she muttered as she pushed past her cow, who was, as per usual, not in her crib. Instead, she stood half in half out of the house, trying to eat last night’s supper from the table.

Despite the stench of Agnes’ gas, she was reluctant to make her journey. The village wasn’t the most welcoming of places. Agnes, who had grown up here, dedicated her life to hard work and devotion to her people, but times were changing. Folks from the cities were buying up land, and unmarried women were often the targets, leaving a mark of condemnation upon their heads. Agnes wasn’t sure if pity, judgment, or fear prevented her neighbors from talking to her. These days, she preferred to stay indoors.

„Mornin’ Thomas.”

Agnes’ next-door neighbor grunted back at her. Even long before he sold his land, he seldom spoke. She had always put his behavior down to embarrassment. Being neighbors, it was not uncommon for Agnes to hear every word of his petulance towards his wife and children, a trait many of the villagers did not approve of.

The morning air was crisp, carrying the lively sounds of the bustling village. Children ran around the Willow tree in the center of the square, women sat together in front of their houses weaving hats for the approaching winter, and men caught trout down by the River Burn. Sights that would have brought Agnes a warm feeling in her stomach, but today, her stomach was more than uneasy, and she scurried through the cobbled streets as fast as she could to reach the healer’s home.

Mary’s house was one of the few houses without a neighbor. It stood proud on the outskirts of the village, next to a large oak surrounded by fennel, elderberry, sage, and a myriad of other plants.

Inside, tinctures, poultices, and teapots lined the walls; rosemary hung above the hearth. In front, a heavy rocking chair with Mary sat grinning at her, and Snuffles the cat atop her lap.

„Your tummy playing up again, dear?”

„Oh, Mary, it’s them bloody cabbages.”

„I’ll make you up a delicate tea for your meals again. How’d the last one fair? Fennel, peppermint, and what’s that other one?” Mary mumbled, making her way over to her tomes on the table.

A loud knock on the door interrupted Agnes’ response.

Snuffles jumped down off the table in fright.

„Mary, open up, it’s Thomas.”

As she opened the large wooden door, two men pushed past her, one of them quite large. She cast Mary a look of disbelief.

„See, she’s been making these potions with her,” Thomas said to the smaller man, pointing toward Mary. She knew Thomas was up to something. He was determined to sell their land before winter.

The smaller man turned toward Mary. „Mary Waterhouse?”

She nodded.

„You are under arrest for witchcraft: for the distributing of poisons and hexes among your neighbors and for colluding with the beast, an activity I can see you take part in,” he said, nodding toward Snuffles.

Agnes was in shock. „Heaven forbid, I’m only here because I’ve got gas!”

„And you, miss, are under arrest for the slaughter of Thomas’ pigs through the means of witchcraft. No surprise seeing you here.”

A large hand gripped around Agnes, and her body weakened, falling to the floor. The last thing she saw was the look of absolute fear and resentment in the guard’s eyes as she knocked herself out on the foot of the spinning wheel.

The guard dragged her out into the street, Mary behind her in cuffs. Villagers gathered around her garden behind Thomas, pelting cabbages at them as they made their way toward the carriage.

Agnes’s mind swirled with fear and disbelief as the carriage rattled along the uneven cobblestones. Her former neighbors’ accusatory stares bore into her like hot coals, their silent condemnation echoing in the hollow recesses of her mind. Mary’s presence beside her offered little solace, the weight of their shared fate hanging heavy in the air.

The journey to the prison seemed interminable, each passing moment fraught with the uncertainty of what lay ahead. Agnes clung to the hope that their innocence would prevail and that somehow they would emerge unscathed from the web of lies and deception that had ensnared them.

But as the carriage came to a halt outside the imposing stone walls of the prison, Agnes’s hopes faltered. The guards, their faces as cold and unyielding as the stone itself, dragged her and Mary from the carriage, their hands like iron vices around their arms.

The crowd’s jeers followed them like a haunting melody as the guards ushered them into the bowels of the prison, their footsteps echoing in the dimly lit corridor. Agnes’s heart hammered in her chest, each beat a drumming reminder of the injustice that had brought them to this place.

The heavy door of the cell slammed shut behind them, plunging Agnes into darkness once more. The faint smell of despair clung to her like a shroud. Her head throbbed with each labored breath, her thoughts consumed by the grim reality of their situation.

„Agnes, we’re in Kings Lynn.”

„They burn them here,” a tall man stammered from the corner, a look of perplexity across his face as he scratched his wrist beneath his chains.

„This is Dummy. They say he’s possessed, but he’s a sweet man.”

Agnes blinked, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Shackled in unjust conditions without trial, she suffered like an animal – corruption at its finest. With a weak nod, her throat dry and constricted, a bitter taste climbed up her esophagus. She clung to the cold rock below her in a cold sweat, desperate for any comfort it could offer.

„We can’t stay here,” she croaked, her voice not above a whisper. „We have to find a way out.”

The tall man nodded in agreement, his eyes darting around the cell. „They say they’re coming for us at dawn, but the devil will save us,” he muttered.

Mary gave a solemn nod. „It’s the same old story, isn’t it? Those in power seeking to silence and condemn anyone in their path.”

Agnes sighed, her gaze drifting to the damp stone floor. „They say I slaughtered Thomas’ pigs with dark magic, but he’s always wanted my lands for himself, and this was his way of getting rid of us.”

Mary’s lips tightened into a grim line. „I know, dear. They accuse me of distributing poisons and hexes, but they don’t want me to help women take care of themselves. The sicker they are, the better is for their plans.”

Agnes’ heart sank as dawn approached, knowing there was no way of escape from this damp and gloomy cell.

„We need to break these chains,” she stated. And then we’ll find a way out of here, no matter what it takes.” Her voice trailed off as her fever took hold.

In dreaming, the moon turned into the sun. The horizon burned red in Agnes’ mind, a heat haze sitting like a blanket across the vast space before her. The shadow of a man floated into view. She saw miles of mist-covered sea as the man emerged like a sandstorm from the waves. An epitome of power and control, fogging her ability to see. As she turned to run, a synergy of her surroundings overcame her before she could get further, susurrant sand storms drowning her screams in the venerable words of this ecclesiastical figure that persisted in visiting her dream. Agnes struggled to push herself through the sand, desperate for any way out. The sand felt heavier and heavier, beginning to weigh her down as the grains between her toes grew to boulders. She pulled herself up as the rope around her wrists tightened, dragging her toward the sun in a puppet-like fashion.

Agnes regained consciousness, her eyes focusing on the sun getting brighter and brighter through the thin, torn sheet in front of the small cellar window. It is said that a dream works as a caveat. Of course, it is always for misfortune and unpleasant experiences. Agnes’ mind wondered. She was in shock. A small bird sat on the other side of the window bars and stared at her with pity as her body refused to move a muscle, and she tried to push the image of her prison neighbors out of her peripheral vision. She wanted to be elsewhere.

Sweat and drool pooled beneath her face on the cracked rock, glimmering in a sliver of light that had stirred her awake moments before. She continued squinting her eyes and imagined she was searching for starfish in the rock pools on a beach somewhere, Cley or Holkham.

As the first rays of dawn painted the sky with pink and gold hues, Agnes freed herself from her chains. With one failed swoop, she jumped higher than the houses from the cellar window toward the painted skies and the birds.

Like Hecate with her chariot drawn by dogs, she soared through the ethereal realms, leaving behind the confines of their earthly prison. The rush of wind breezed across her skin as her heart pounded with exhilaration and fear. Below, the world stretched out in all its vastness, a patchwork of fields and forests, rivers and mountains. For a moment, she allowed herself to believe she was free, flying among the creatures of the sky toward the setting sun to find a land that would protect them. A land where they could farm and swim. A land God and beast could live together until each of their ashes became soil.

The landscape below shifted and changed, morphing into strange and wondrous forms. Mountains gave way to valleys, forests to deserts until she came upon a land unlike any she had ever known. It was a land of beauty and abundance, where fields of golden wheat stretched as far as the eye could see, and orchards bloomed with the promise of plenty. Rivers teemed with fish, and forests teemed with game, offering sustenance to all who dwelled within.

As the memories of their flight faded, replaced once more by the cold, hard truth of their imprisonment, Agnes felt a sense of determination well up within her, a resolve to never give up, even in death. She knew they would always be free as long as she held onto her dreams. She knew that even in death, fear had never prevailed.

© 2024 tebokkai

Photo Credit: iiievgeniy

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