The Jezebel (Taskill Witches 3)

“We will study all the books that I have on the subject, together, and we can discuss the matters therein. Do you understand?”

Young Margaret nodded. She felt excitement at the prospect, and was humbled that he cared to encourage that part of her for which most people would persecute her.

“You will discover, when we read together, that there are people all over the world who understand the natural rhythm of life and the power inherent in nature.”

“All over the world?”

Cyrus nodded and opened her first book.

They spent several weeks studying that first tome, returning to the beginning to read the important parts again, talking about it as they went. Margaret learned that people practiced magic in many faraway countries

, and it wasn’t something solely borne of the Scottish Highlands. The book was beautifully handwritten in painstaking script, each page illustrated with tiny drawings. The knowledge excited her, introducing her to possibilities beyond her own experience and beyond the difficult days that her family had endured after their mother led them to the Lowlands.

There were several such books, and one in particular captured Margaret’s heart, for it documented Highland witchcraft. She was enthralled when she saw the old Gaelic and Pictish words written within. There were enchantments that her mother had taught them by ear, and many more besides.

“Some of these I know, but others I don’t.”

“Try those that are new to you, if you want to,” her protector encouraged. “Only when we are alone, though.”

Delighted, she nodded. “I promise. I will only make magic with you, Master Cyrus.”

His lips curled.

Under his watchful eye she learned to flex her skills, growing her craft and her repertoire of spells. It was an exciting time, and one in which her loyalty to her guardian evolved.

In time he tempered this by introducing a different kind of tract, books that advocated the hunting down and killing of witches. Young Margaret, who had flourished through her learning, had come to believe that it was a terrible mistake that her mother was persecuted. When she saw what he meant for her to study next, she felt instantly afraid. Two years had passed and she felt safe at last. Now that would be undone. “Why?”

“In order to be strong you must understand the reasons why your kind are so often feared and persecuted. Be brave, for it is only through understanding such ignorance that we can hope to defeat it.”

However, when he sat her down and encouraged her to read King James’s book entitled Daemonologie it shattered her heart and put her young life into stark relief. This was the very document from which all laws about and persecution of witchcraft had spilled down in her homeland and beyond. It was a brutal indictment, one that used the justness and power of religion and royalty to seek out and kill her kind.

“This will shock you,” Master Cyrus warned her, “but it is important you understand they are driven by their fear.”

Margaret was only a few pages in when she began to feel sickened, tormented by the words, and the images they conjured. It took her back to that fateful day. Since then she’d had her mind opened, and she’d been excited to find that those who believed and practiced magic were everywhere. Even though she’d witnessed her own mother’s persecution, it was hard for her to see how something borne of nature could offend souls and make them afraid. This document only reinforced the fact that she and others like her were in constant danger. Those in power—the monarchy and the church—feared and despised them, and turned honest workingmen against them. The more she read, the more ill she felt.

She drew back from the book, confused by it.

“Perhaps reading it aloud would be better, so that we might discuss it,” Master Cyrus offered, encouraging her to turn another page.

She had hoped that he would set the book aside for another day, for it was too close to her own experience, and the words of the magistrate and the villagers who had condemned her mother were reflected in every page.

“Ask me anything,” Cyrus said, forcing her on.

Why was he so determined she read it? Margaret stared at the page, faltering, yet afraid to disappoint him. “It says the witches serve one master. Who is this master?”

His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Read on.”

She read aloud, needing to do so to share her confusion with him. “The devil...it says the devil entices witches into his service. He lures them to follow him by promising them great riches.” She paused, turning to the man who was her only protector, her only master. “The devil? But this is Christian belief. They said this about my mother, but I didn’t understand it then and I do not understand it now. We believe in that which folds in on our lives time and again, bringing life and growth and good things. We believe in nature’s way, the seasons and the rebirth of everything that is good.”

He nodded. “Your people have often been unjustly accused of being evil, although I expect some turn that way.”

He tapped the page, encouraging her to read on.

Reluctantly, she did so. “It says that the devil bestowed the knowledge to cure illness—” she shook her head in disbelief, for that was not her experience “—or to curse and kill via means of wax figures.” She felt quite ill. “Wax figures to curse or kill? I have never heard of such a thing.” Upset, confused and angered, she wanted to destroy the book and all it represented. “These are lies!”

“People believe this because it is the king’s word, and the church and the lawmakers agree and act upon it. Try, if you can, to imagine you knew nothing of witchcraft, and how you might feel if you read this and believed it.”

The thought sent a cold shiver through her. “Yes, it would make me afraid, and if there really are people who did such things...people who used magic for their own gain...then I can see why men believed the king’s word.”