An Age of Winters: A Novel by Gemma Liviero

Author:Gemma Liviero [Liviero, Gemma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2024-11-02T00:00:00+00:00

EXCERPT

THE WITCH HUNTS—FÖRNER

They flung back the door, lawmen in their black coats and hats that hung low over their faces, smelling of sweat and animal hide. An acrid rush of cold air entered with them from the river the house sat facing, their boots treading heavily across the threshold. I followed behind with a torch. Gasps sounded from inside the dark recesses of the room as the intruders crossed the floor of the small space to reach the woman on her bed. They kicked the dog that lay in their way and disturbed the son, Jon, beside her from his slumber. He sat up in confusion. There was a rustling of coats and coarse linen as the woman grappled with the men who pulled her from her bed while the chickens squawked and jumped out of their ratty pen across the room, feathers scattering.

Zilla Lucke sat up under the light of the torch that I held above her head. Her expression of disbelief turned to one of fear. The dog reared and growled, and his complaint was met with a baton to the head. He fled yelping to a corner of the room. The woman was dragged onto the floor, then stubbornly used her full weight in an attempt to thwart the two men attempting to lift her to stand. It was pointless to resist, to waste such useless minutes. Engel was there, too, watching from the doorway. As the men dragged her across the floor, she resisted, twisting her body. She was a strong and large-bodied woman of fifty-one years. Wrenched harshly by the arms, she was held tightly by the guards on either side of her before being pulled roughly forward onto her knees. As she was dragged, her toes then snagged on a protruding floorboard, losing one toenail in the process and leaving a streak of black blood, under the colour of night, towards the doorway. She grunted and blasphemed, and her nightgown then tore open to expose her breasts before she shrieked at the men.

A thud and a groan echoed off the night walls. She had been struck hard on the head and dropped like a sack of grain between the strong arms of the men, who then dragged her to the horses tethered outside. They slapped her awake to make her stand and tied her wrists to a rope that was fastened to a saddle. Zilla stumbled behind them as they headed to the distant tower of heretics, dissenters, and the faithless.

I heard a whimper from the corner of the room and walked over to light the area where Jon was curled up in a ball. When I touched his arm, he winced and shielded his face. Jon was brawny, as I’d experienced before, yet in this instance seemed unaware of his strength.

“Jon,” said Engel, stepping near to comfort him. “It is Zacharias Engel. Don’t be afraid.”

Jon was shaking uncontrollably. The priest coaxed him to stand and return to sit on the side of the bed.

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