The Unbreakable Circle (re-written)

Ember woke to the stopping of the carriage. Her golden hazel eyes fluttering open in semi dark interior. Evening had fallen and it seemed they had stopped for the night.

Brother Paul stretched in the seat across from her, “We will rest here for the night. Hopefully we can beat the storm in the morning. Otherwise we might get stuck here a few days.”

She nodded silently and exited the carriage after him, taking his hand of assistance. Already the townsmen whom had accompanied them on the journey were unloading her one small traveling box and getting the horses and carriage detached and ready for night.

The inn was clean and simple; the couple who ran in were friendly and kind. The woman lead Ember up to a small room, before turning to light a fire against the late autumn chill.

“Supper will be ready in about half an hour. Why don’t you get comfortable before coming down.”

“Thank you, you are most kind.”

The woman smiled and left. Ember released a sigh and dropped onto the worn but comfortable mattress. They were only two days from London, where she would be married to a Christian. A Christian, while she was a witch. She had no one to blame for her situation then herself.

A month ago she had been caught with her pentacle around her neck. Luckily she had been able to convince the town’s priest that she had bought it from the gypsies who had visited the month before and with her knowledge of the bible, because of her mother’s foresight to be prepared, she had been released.

The priest was a kind man and extremely smart; he had ensured no one knew why she had been in the church’s lower rooms for nearly three weeks. When people had asked her family, they told them nothing, only that it was God’s will.
The last several days locked in the room she had been without visitors except for Brother Paul, who brought her meals. He told her nothing though he sat with her and updated her on her family. Much to both their surprises they even started to become friends after Paul had asked her for her opinion about a bible passage which turned into a heated but delightful debate.

When the priest finally came to see her again it was with a letter from the Archbishop in London. Ember thought for sure she was going to die. She hadn’t been convincing enough.

“I have been in correspondence with the Archbishop about your situation. Ember I have known you since you were a child, I Christian-ed you myself when you were born. You were bright and joyful but even these things can mask a witch.”

Ember held her breath, she was going to die, she was sure of it. Father Andrews sat down on a small stool across from where she sat on the small cot meant for apprentices.

“I, however, knew you were not a witch. Not just from watching you grow up but I saw you speaking with the gypsies and looking at their trinkets last month. I remember you purchasing something from them though I do not know what. Your knowledge of the bible and from Paul tells me your passion for it. You are no witch. The Archbishop agrees with me and has even has extended a most gracious offer to you, to ensure your family’s safety.”

He sighed and took Ember’s hands in his own, “While I have spoken nothing of the reason you have been here. Gossip is a powerful and cruel thing to be subjected to. Already there is gossip that you have been accused of witchcraft. You will never be rid of it no matter what I tell the people. I am a priest and I cannot lie, however I can withhold information. Part of my correspondent with the Archbishop has been what to do with you after this. He has a son, adopted from the eastern lands, his second son whom wishes to be married this year.”

Ember blinked, realizing the conversation was not about death at all, at least not a physical one.

“You wish me to marry the Arch Bishop’s son?” she asked softly, connecting the dots.

“Yes, I do. It would be a saving grace to you and your family. You were here because of the marriage offer, while I correspondent with the Archbishop about details, you prayed and meditated to come to a decision. I will give you two days to do exactly that. This is the story I will tell people, which is true. I highly implore you to agree, because no one in your position would say no and that will raise suspicion.”

“Apologizes Father Andrews but I am confused. I am in love with another. Everyone in this town knows of my love for Matthew Stonewall. Would I so easily toss that aside to marry another? An arranged marriage at that?”

“Yes, because love will not put food on the table for your family. You would be marrying into a powerful and wealthy family, who would provide for your family here. You would not need to worry about your family not making it through the winter because of lack of food or warmth. Think and pray for the next two days then tell me your decision. You will not be locked in here any more but do not leave the lower levels of the church.”

Father Andrew stood, kissing her brow before leaving the small room. Ember on the other hand stared at the stone wall, because she already knew her answer and I broke her heart.

Now, she sat in a small inn heading to her arranged marriage, all to ensure her family would survive the harsh winter that was coming. It had been a cruel summer and crops had wilted in the extreme heat, and autumn had brought a bitter chill, a foreshadow of the winter to come.

Ember laid back on the bed and thought of what she knew of the Archbishop’s second son. He was 29, 12 years old then herself. He was adopted, as all the Archbishop’s sons were, but this son had come from the eastern lands. Something about slaves, and his mother had died after the slavers had been captured due to illness. The Archbishop with already one son decided to take the child in.

His birth name had been Jung Yunho, but he had been Christian-ed as Gene Barton. This tidbit of information Brother Paul had told her. He was a soldier in the King’s Army, left hand to the General despite his young age and he had returned from the crusades six months ago.

She had never seen a man from the eastern lands, and wondered what he would look like. As a soldier, she knew he would be a well-built man, strong, confident and sure of himself. Ember feared he would be a harsh man, cruel and cold, regardless of his upbringing in the Church. Ember shuddered at the thought of being married to a man who would treat her unkindly.

The age difference did not bother her, for it was a normal thing for women in an arranged marriage. She had heard of many such things with young women of Court.

Court, another word that frightened her because she would officially be a member of it once she was married. It had been an honor the King had bestowed upon Gene upon his return from the crusades, along with some land in the southern part of London. Another tidbit from Brother Paul, who was more into gossip then he let on.

A tap on her door roused her from her thoughts; supper was ready. A part of her would be glad once they arrived in London, nearly a week in a rocking carriage was starting to fray on her nerves, yet another part of her wished the journey would never end.

Notes