Spellbound Chapter 3.

Chapter Three.

 

A Sad Child.

 

In a small village high up in the mountains, a small girl named Sophie sat in the corner of her bed and fought back the tears.

The room was dark and tiny, not at all like the bedroom she had once had. Her life had changed for the worse a few weeks earlier when first her father and then her mother had caught a nasty illness and had not recovered.

Sophie’s aunt and uncle had come and collected her and brought her to live with them.

Uncle William was her father’s brother, but unlike Sophie’s father, he was not a successful carpenter. He was, in fact, an outlaw, which was why he lived in such a small, out‑of‑the‑way set of homes.

Aunt Meg had a harsh and unkind manner. She had a stern and unforgiving nature. Sophie realised that her aunt had to be that way to survive in a world that showed her little kindness.

Sophie’s mother had tried everything she knew to save her husband’s life when he and many of the other people in the village had taken ill. She had been what some people called a hedge witch.

These were women who could do small magic. They used little spells to remove warts, mend broken bones, heal cuts and grazes, and cure most illnesses. They called themselves “Charmers” rather than witches. They did not do big magic like Calizone. That would have brought them trouble.

Sophie reached under her pillow and took out the only thing she had left from her parents. It was a tiny locket with a picture of her mother on one side and her father on the other.

“Why did you have to go and die?” she asked. She had asked that every day since it had happened. There was never an answer.

Sophie took a deep breath and concentrated hard. On a rickety old table on the other side of the room was the stub of a candle in a candlestick holder.

Slowly, the holder rose into the air and floated across to Sophie. Delighted, she caught it. She took another deep breath and stared at the candle. After a few seconds, the wick burst into flame.

She heard her aunt walking towards the door. Quickly, she got up, put the candle back on the table, and blew out the tiny flame.

Her aunt came bustling into the room.

“I am sorry about your parents,” she said. “But you are living with me now, and sitting in your room doing nothing is not allowed. There are chores to be done. Those who don’t work, don’t eat.”

Sophie stood up. “Sorry,” she said. “What would you like me to do?”

“To begin with, you can help me get the washing done. I don’t know how he manages it, but your uncle’s clothes are always filthy.”

She led Sophie to an outhouse. In it was a tub full of soapy water.

“Right,” ordered Aunt Meg. “Take something out and scrub it. When it is clean, drop it in that rinsing tub over there. When you have done them all, you can take them out of the rinsing tub and hang them on the washing line outside.”

She stood and watched as Sophie pulled out the first item and began to scrub it.

“You will need to scrub it a lot harder than that,” said Aunt Meg. “Now you get on with that while I go and make a stew for the men’s lunch.”

She turned on her heel and went out.

Sophie scrubbed at the shirt as hard as she could, but the dirt would not come out. She concentrated hard and stared at the shirt. Slowly, all the dirt dribbled out of the cloth and into the water.

Quickly, before her aunt came back, Sophie dropped it into the rinsing tub. She pulled out the next garment — a pair of disgustingly filthy trousers. She concentrated again and watched in delight as all the dirt slid off them into the water.

One by one, she took out each piece of washing and thought it clean. When she had finished, she did a little dance of joy.

Next, she took the clean things out of the rinsing tub as she had been told to do. Outside, there was a washing line and a basket of pegs. She hung the clean washing on the line and watched as it flapped in the breeze.

She did not notice her aunt coming to stand behind her.

“That did not take you very long,” said Aunt Meg. “I hope you have washed them properly.”

“They look clean,” said Sophie.

Her aunt examined the clothes. “You seem to be a very good little scrubber. These are cleaner than I have ever seen them. Now, there is no time to be standing around watching the clothes dry. There are other things to be done. There is a brush and a dustpan in the corner of your room. Fetch it and clean out the front room while I empty the water out of those tubs. I don’t think you are strong enough to do that.” She frowned and looked closely at Sophie, then she shrugged her shoulders.

Sophie was kept busy for the rest of the morning, cleaning and helping her aunt.

At midday, she was allowed to sit on a bench at the front of the house with a mug of goat’s milk, some goat’s cheese, and a lump of bread. Grudgingly, Sophie thought, her aunt said that she had worked well.

“Where is my uncle?” Sophie asked. Not that she was really interested, but she felt the need to talk.

“He is away up the valley. There are good fish to be caught up there,” said her aunt.

“Oh,” said Sophie, “I thought that as he is an outlaw, he must be off somewhere robbing a wagon train or something.”

Aunt Meg bristled. “He may be an outlaw, but he is still an honest man, not a bandit.”

Sophie was quick to apologise. “I thought outlaws were robbers,” she said.

“That is not what is meant by being an outlaw. It just means that a person is no longer protected by the law. Anyone can kill an outlaw without being punished for it. Outlaws cannot own property. If he was to go into a town and be recognised, he could be arrested and thrown into prison.”

“Are you an outlaw too, then?” Sophie asked.

Her aunt shook her head. “Women are not made outlaws. But when it happened to William and he had to hide, what else could I do but go with him? He is my husband.”

“Why are men made outlaws?” Sophie wanted to know.

Her aunt sighed. “You are a nosy madam, but I will tell you. Your father, William’s brother, was clever with his hands. He became a carpenter and made things in wood. William was clumsy and, I am sorry to say, not that clever. He could not find a way to earn his living. He borrowed money just so that we could eat. He did not pay the rent on our home. When the people he borrowed the money from wanted paying, your father helped as best he could, but it wasn’t enough. Lord Margib, who owned our house, wanted his rent. When we did not pay, he took William to court and insisted that William be made an outlaw because of the money and rent that he owed. We ran away and came to live here.”

“I am sorry,” said Sophie. “Mum was a healer, wasn’t she? And she got paid for helping people, so I thought they had lots of money.”

“Your father used every penny they had to pay William’s debt and the rent that we owed, but Lord Margib would not change his mind.”

“Oh,” was all Sophie could think of to say.

Her aunt stood up. “Well, that is enough gossip for today. There is still a lot to do. And don’t get trying that witchcraft nonsense, like your mother. It was trying to heal someone that led to her and your father’s deaths. She insisted on going to see a very sick man and caught whatever he had and passed it on to your father.”

Sophie worked with her aunt for the rest of the day. She did not like to try any magic whilst her aunt was watching her. The stew her aunt had made was surprisingly good and filling. Her uncle came back from fishing with a good catch.

“I will smoke these tomorrow,” he said. “Sophie can help me clean them.”

“No, she can’t,” snapped her aunt. “Tomorrow is cheese day and I need her for that. The last thing I need is her smelling of fish and smoke while she is helping me.”

Sophie went to bed early, tired and a little sad. Before trying to sleep, she sat on her bed and thought about the little bit of magic she had managed to do.

“Tomorrow I will try some more,” she promised herself before falling asleep.