Sanctified

Sympathy was a miserable thing.

Pity was even worse.

Eden long tired of the sullen eyes that followed her wherever she went. Every nod in her direction was an acknowledgment of all she had lost. They offered her nothing but grief and sorrow. She needed help, not empty words of condolences.

But that was all the weeping village of Tarafet could offer her. They watched on in fear and terror whenever she passed by.

She was marked- cursed by circumstance and forsaken by those who were meant to comfort her in her time of sorrow.

A week ago she had called upon the few remaining men of her town to carry away her father’s body. Word traveled quickly from house to house. Wives whispering amongst each other and rumors began to swirl surrounding the odd circumstances.

Rumors that did her no favors.

Eden and her father lived in a quaint cottage settled on the edge of Tarafet. Her father had been gifted ten acres of land by the Duke for his years of service in the guard and he worked endlessly to till the land and tear down the pine trees in order to grow enough food to last them through the winter.

The people of Tarafet loved Eden’s father. He attended Sunday mass regularly, donating whatever he could. Often, he would bring home bundles of clothes and have Eden mend them for widowed soldiers he would meet. He was a pillar of generosity, offering anything he could.

But she loved him most of all.

She was the one who found him in the field just after dawn, his body torn limb from limb and his stomach burst open. Black bile scorched the earth where he lay, seeping into the soil and tainting it with sickness.

None could say for certain, but his injuries created many questions. No wild creature ever documented could so delicately disconnect a man from his extremities. And none carried venom so potent it made the organs boil until they popped.

The council deemed her father’s corpse impure and ordered it to be burned on the outskirts of town where the smoke would not infect the village. When the townsmen carried him away they wore cloth around their mouth and noses, fearful of whatever curse plagued his body or the pieces of him.

Now they all looked upon her as though she too were infected with this ailment. At any moment she would burst. Her insides would slough out of her body and her limbs strewn across rooftops.

But this was no infection. Her father was a man of God. No curse could touch him, let alone kill him, and if it were truly a sickness he had shown no signs of being ill.

No. Something inhuman did this to her father. A demon of the night had slipped through the early rays of the morning sun and slain her father in cold blood. He was poisoned by the demon, not by a curse.

But no one believed her. Monsters did not roam on the hills of Pillament, and certainly never stormed through the streets of Tarafet. Tales of old spoke of demons and monsters but none had been recorded in recent history, and they became a myth among her people.

But she saw the unholiness of her father’s death. The brutal disfigurement, his face forever twisted in terrified agony.

This was something more.

But no one would believe her. Not until male goats began to go missing in the darkness of night. Escaping their pens only to be found in the morn under cover of the pine trees, torn apart with medical precision.

Just like her father, black bile scorched the earth beneath them, and their white hair burned to their flesh leaving splotchy red spots.

It was after this that Eden was called to appear before the council. She was the only woman in a cramped room of men, scrutinized beneath their gaze. Her chair sat alone on one side of the room as the council sat opposite her behind a long table as if she were on trial. Their eyes spoke louder than the feigned sympathy they peppered throughout their words.

They did not care. None of them truly cared.

She sat with her hands on her lap the fabric of her skirt bunched in her fist. Her knee bounced absentmindedly, her mind beyond the walls of this room. A black scarf was tied around her head, hiding her mess of red hair that she bundled beneath the fabric in an attempt at modesty. She rarely sat in the company of anyone, certainly not men, and in her time of mourning, there were expectations for her to uphold. Even though she typically covered her hair anyway, she was a grieving daughter and her clothing and appearance must reflect so.

Her hair alone created conversation and most feared her because of it. Red hair was the mark of the devil and if it were not for her father’s favor among the town she would have been cast out long ago. Now, nothing would stop them.

Eden could feel their gazes undressing her. Peeling back her skin to peek inside her soul. They wanted to understand her, but they feared her, and she could not change that.

She expected the meeting to pertain to her father’s death—perhaps a plan to find the creature that had brought her so much pain and devastation.

The reeve, sat at the center of the long table, six feet in front of her. His brown-flecked eyes kept darting from her to his stack of parchment. His hand had a large gold ring on each of his index fingers, a red jewel nestled in the center.

“Miss. Edergreene,” he feigned a smile, “the council is very sympathetic to your plight. Truly, we feel the loss as greatly as you do.”

She forced a small smile on her lips, gazing up from under her eyelashes as she played the part of a demure lady. Behind her delicate features, her heart hammered wildly, his words doing very little to comfort her, “I appreciate your condolences, sir.”

“I wish to assure you, your father’s service to Baron Ivan is not forgotten, and this choice is not one of disrespect, but seeing as he has since passed and the land remains uncultivated, we must step in for the greater good of the people.” His lips pursed and his brow turned downward, clearly less than enthusiastic to be sharing this news with her.

Perhaps he thought she would curse him. She had no doubt many believed she was the one who had killed her father which made their telling stares hurt even worse.

“You mean to take my father’s land?” Eden asked, a lump in her throat making her voice crack. She knew the answer. This was something she should have expected, but not so soon.

“Technically, your father’s claim to the land was legally forfeited upon his death. You signed the papers yourself.” He continued, pulling the death certificate from his pile of paperwork. He slid it forward despite her inability to see it from such a great distance. As a woman, she was not permitted to approach the bench, but she knew what it was, “Upon the declaration of his death, all land is passed to the heir of the estate. Seeing as there is none the land is returned to Baron Ivan to redistribute as he pleases.”

Eden’s small fingers curled into fists, crinkling her tartan skirt, “I am the heir.” But even she heard the way the words fell into the void before her. She felt their weightlessness the second they fell from her lips.

On the balanced scale of the law, her thumb did nothing to tip them in her favor.

The councilman sitting to the right of the reeve spoke up, “A male heir.” He clarified unnecessarily. It also appeared the men around the table found her plight amusing, “A woman cannot own land and you are unwed.”

The reeve nodded in agreement, the circumstances making perfect sense to him while her entire life crumbled around her, and she was expected to watch, “If you had a husband the council may be persuaded to rule in your favor. As long as certain conditions were met.”

Eden’s fingernails bit into her pale skin, her jaw clenched tightly as she fought back the tears that stung her eyes.

She wanted to scream.

Instead, she swallowed every harsh word that poisoned her tongue and spoke with a slight bite in her throat, “My father was gifted wasteland, for ten years in the Baron’s guard.” Her words cracked, “He made it sustainable.”

“Eden-”

She twisted and pulled at the fabric bunched in her hands, anger working its way through her like a fire poker, “He worked it tirelessly and it was worth nothing!” She nearly shouted, fighting to keep her voice level.

“Eden!” The reeve pounded his fist on the wooden tabletop, shaking the stack of parchment, “The council has been sensitive to your issue but the decision is final. Not only is the law clear, but the township requires the land to sustain the population! After the harsh winter we have all endured you must understand this.”

Her face flushed red, shame filling her chest at the reprimand. She was not intending to be selfish. She knew the suffering of the townspeople despite living outside of their company. Tarafet was small but bustling and filled with life. There were many who could make good work of the fields and bring the goods to market, but still, it was her land! Despite what the law said, it belonged to her and they had no right to take it from her.

Where would she go?

“What is to become of me?” She asked, the sudden fear overtaking her. She looked up from the dark gray lines on her skirt, “I will have nowhere to go. That is my home.”

The councilmen shared looks among themselves. This was not something they had discussed or even thought about. Typically a young woman of twenty-five was wed and with child by now and rehousing would not be an issue or fall under the groom’s responsibilities.

However, that was not an option here. There were few men in Tarafet, most already wed, or not of age. The war that ravaged their lands took many men into the fight and few returned alive. Her chances of survival hinged on the charity of a widower, potentially old enough to be her grandfather or the church.

Neither was preferable.

But that was not her decision either.

“We will leave you in the hands of Father Martin.” The small man to the reeve’s left suggested.

“Yes!” The reeve gave her a wide smile, showing all of his teeth. “Your father was a valued member of the congregation. I am certain Father Martin will manage to find a place for you. Perhaps among the sisters of St. Maurice Abbey!” His voice rose on a pitch as if this were the most thrilling news he could be delivering and not soul-crushing.

All of her hopes and desires would be tossed away if she were sent to the abbey and made a nun! Even if she did not take her vows there was nowhere else for her to go. She had no husband and no means to find a husband! Certainly not in a closed order as a novice!

If they even accepted her.

Her heart throbbed in her rib cage, like a hand squeezing each artery, making her chest constrict. She could not breathe! She could not think!

No matter the spiteful words that tickled her tongue she could not make her vocal cords ring out the notes. Nothing could be said to fix this because she had no choice.

She had no say.

“So it shall be done!” The reeve clapped his hands together, “Father Martin will be informed and someone will escort you to the church.”

Eden swallowed, hard, “When?” She whispered.

He only shrugged, “This afternoon. The sooner the better on these matters. The land should be worked as soon as possible.”

This afternoon.

Her wide eyes glistened with unshed tears, “I have... I have things to gather.” She tried to explain.

The councilman to the right, spoke up again, “By law all assets in the home fall to the heir. In this case, the council will take possession of all unclaimed items and redistribute them.” His face was stone. Unwavering and completely void of sympathy. His eyes looked right through her, disregarding her humanity.

“They are not unclaimed!” Eden argued fiercely, her brow pulled together and a tone of desperation laced with her words.

The reeve inhaled deeply, his patience wearing, “Eden, I understand you believe you have a right to this land and this home but you do not. It was not yours and is not yours. This land, the home, and all the possessions are in the hands of Baron Ivan who has entrusted us, his council, to uphold his laws.” His jaw was clenched and his words grew clipped.

Eden’s face flushed red and she attempted to hide behind her black scarf that covered her head. She did not like to be disciplined. She liked to be good and obedient. It was important to her to remain docile and accommodating. They were admirable traits among women.

But what did that do her now?

Would being docile get her what she wanted? Needed? No, but it also would not get her in trouble.

“Trust the Lord, my young girl. He will see you through. Perhaps the abbey was a calling you did not see before.” The reeve smiled widely but behind his eyes was disinterest and frustration. He wanted to be rid of her.

Eden did not notice his distaste, though it clipped in his tone. She refused to look up from the floorboards, lest she give him the nastiest glare she could muster.

Instead, she quietly nodded and stood to her feet, “Thank you for your time gentlemen.” With a small bow of her head, she moved towards the door, “I expect to be called upon by Father Martin, soon.”

With those final words, she hugged her shawl tighter around her shoulders, lifted her chin, and left the meeting hall with her head held high.

~•~•~

A/N

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Reeve: local official and chief magistrate of a town or district

Canadian definition: President of a town