Rowena took a seat on the bench. The wolf approached her, its blue eyes trained on her. It lowered its head in front of her. She put a tentative hand out then patted its fur, starting with its mane. The fur wasn’t as soft as it looked. It was rougher, like soft bristles.
The water fountain in front of the bench gave off a tranquil trickle of water. It felt strange to be in such a peaceful place while her friends suffered.
“Rowena, we have a lot o,” he said, turning and looking around, seemingly making sure they were alone.
Jonathon sat beside Rowena, while Ronan remained standing. “I know this is all hard to believe. But Ronan is from another time. Far, into the future.”
“How is that possible?” The half-naked angel statue in the fountain contented itself with pouring water while the wolf circled it, finally jumping in with a splash. Rowena smiled, despite herself.
Ronan chuckled at the wolf playing in the water. “If you are as good of a student as Hawthorn said you are, I know you won’t find this too far-fetched. I have traveled here from the year two-thousand and twenty to save you and to try to prevent more witch slayings in this town. There are many prisoners in the prison, including those taken from your village. We must help them.”
He waited for Rowena to reply. She stared into the water and finally looked up at him.
“How is it possible? How did you get here from the future?”
“Have you been to Witch Cove??”
“No. I don’t go near Witch Hill or Witch Cove, that’s where they kill the witches,” Rowena replied curtly.
“There’s a pool in the cove. A gateway into other worlds and times. It has been used by Druids for hundreds of years.”
Rowena stared at Ronan with eyes that must have been as larger than the moon.
“You have to believe me, Rowena. There is a trial starting soon. If we don’t make an appearance, suspicions will be raised. You stay here, Kiba.” Kiba jumped out of the water and lay in the sun to dry off.
Jonathon stood up and took Rowena’s hand, leading her and Ronan out of the garden, her dress trailing the ground behind them.
A large crowd had gathered around the imposing stone courthouse. People were shouting and talking excitedly. Rowena gasped as a chant erupted from the flood of people.
“Witch, witch! Burn the bitch!” Over and over they chanted.
Rowena covered her ears against the roar and held back angry tears. Two guards armed with swords appeared from the jailhouse opposite the courthouse, dragging a woman who was kicking and screaming behind them.
“Witch, witch, burn the bitch!” The chants grew louder.
The trio pushed their way through the roil of people and approached the courthouse door. The woman the guards were dragging stopped resisting and was hanging limp as they pulled her up the stone steps. People in the crowd pointed fingers at the girl and seethed vicious words. Rowena caught a glimpse of the girl’s pale, beaten face and felt bile rise into her mouth. She swallowed hard.
“Isabel!” Rowena shouted.
Jonathon quickly wrapped a hand over her mouth. “Rowena, don’t let them know who you are, or you’ll be put on trial as well,” he said in her ear.
Rowena nodded, unable to stop tears this time. She quickly wiped them away with the sleeve of her dress.
Isabel was dragged inside the courthouse with old wounds leaking blood. Rowena took a deep breath as she followed the trail of Isabel’s blood into the courthouse. Inside was a lifeless cavernous room with wooden chairs situated in front of a large wooden desk. Isobel was walking by herself now but the two guards gripped her arms, blanching her skin. Rowena, Jonathon, and Ronan fought with the crowd for a seat inside. They found seats in the back. More than a couple hundred people had stuffed into the room, most of them standing.
Isabel was made to stand in the middle of the room before three men donning white wigs, sitting at the large desk. They were all portly with scowling faces. A tall man in a black shirt and leggings in the far corner of the room rang a bell, signaling everybody to be quiet. The chattering crowd eventually went silent. The judge who sat in the middle of the desk looked at Isabel who was weeping gently, her head down.
“Are you Isabel Cobham of Village Grove?” His voice was harsh and raspy.
“Yes.” Isabel looked up briefly, showing tear-stained, swollen cheeks. Bruises covered her delicate pale skin and her arms and legs were marred with scratches. The rough shift she wore was filthy and covered in bloodstains, some of them old. Rowena shuddered, wondering how many women had been made to wear that horrible garment before Isabel. Isabel’s long golden hair was tangled with clumps of dirt and blood.
“Speak up!” the middle judge roared, his white wig wobbling on the top of his head.
Isabel took a deep breath and yelled, “Yes!”
“You, Isabel Cobham, have been accused of practicing witchcraft. How do you confess to this horrendous accusation?” The judge’s thin eyes stared coldly at Isabel.
She held her head up high and answered the judge. “Yes. I confess I am a witch and I’m proud of that fact,” she said, each word hitting Rowena’s heart like boulders. The judges didn’t bother to hide their smiles and whispered among each other.
The middle one turned back to Isabel and bellowed, “You confess to charge of practicing witchcraft?”
Isabel nodded and held her head high. “I do.”
The judge gestured to the guards. “Take her away and have her sign a full confession.”
The crowd broke their silence. Cheers erupted. They started throwing stale hunks of bread and fruit at Isobel. Rowena stood up and yelled at them to stop but nobody could hear her over the cacophony. Isabel shielded her face with her bruised arms and cried out.
The judges banged on the desk. “Stop that at once! Not inside the courthouse!”
The throwing stopped but the jeers didn’t. Tears streamed down Rowena’s face as her friend was taken out of sight by the guards. She wiped away the hot sticky tears as the noise died down and the judge surveyed the crowd.
“Let this young woman be an example to all of you. She will be punished accordingly.”
The judge and his two assistants stood up from the high desk and left through the door at the back of the room. The crowd piled out, leaving the three of them sitting alone.
Rowena sat silently staring at the spot where Isabel had been standing moments before.
“Rowena, I know that was horrible to see. But it is going to get worse when we go inside the cells.” Jonathon placed a hand on Rowena’s right shoulder and pulled her close. He passed her a handkerchief and she took it and blew her nose. Ronan had his head bowed.
“She’s like a sister to me,” Rowena said.
“Who, Isabel?”
“We’ve been friends since we were little girls. Our mothers were taken from us. We used to talk about growing up like them, continuing their good work in their honor. Healing the sick and taking food to the hungry, performing a love spell or two for the lonely women.” Rowena looked down at her lap and fiddled with the handkerchief.
“You can still do all of those things.”
“Isabel can’t.” Rowena’s voice wavered.
“We can still help her.” Ronan stood up. “And all your other friends still in the prison.”