I watched the flames lick higher at the woman chained
screaming to the post. The white polished marble of the ruined church flickered
with the light of the bonfire and the brands that so many of the people
carried. In the corner a weeping man held himself, chained at the ankle he
rocked back and forth, worrying the wounds around his legs, blood trickled onto
the ground.
The songs of the faithful rose higher. The man wailed louder. He kept shouting the
same words.' I am sorry, I am sorry. I cannot, I cannot.'
An unusual fear was in his eyes.
Perhaps he was next? Hiding behind my mother’s skirts as she stood rigid,
glaring at the coughing girl about to be consumed by the heat and smoke of the
fire. There was no rain or breeze.
The priest walked around the outside of the pyre chanting.
His black robes dusting the floor. The man in the corner stood. His legs and
shoulders creaking and straining. Emaciated, withered, his veins bulged against
the effort. The men by his side did not see, watching as they were the growing
blaze.
I felt I was the only one who saw. The man in his rags and
bloodied legs stepped out of his chains but moved no further. He saw me stare and raised his
finger to his lips. I want to say I saw yellow eyes and fire and anger come
from him, I want to say that he was a demon who struck the blow that day, but
he was not. He was a starved man who whispered something to the wind.
He stepped forward and moved through the crowd. No one saw
him, no one moved. Their eyes fixed on the curling yellow and orange light of
God’s fury. He stepped into the fire and held out his hand. The woman strained
at her chains, closed her eyes and then took a simple step forward. The ragged
man helped the woman in her white soot darkened smock from the flames.
They walked towards me. Hand in hand. They passed but the
frail sickly man stopped and knelt.
‘Do you hate me child?’ he asked.
I shook my head.
‘Here’ he held out his hand. ‘You will come with us, you
will be safe. I promise.’
I took his hand and slipped past my mother’s skirts. They
brushed my cheek as I walked away from her.
Into the distance I saw the town
and started to make for the lights. Behind me I started to hear a rumble of
thunder and then the cacophony of crowd in panic and fear for their lives.
I looked at my arms
and brushed dust from my sleeve.
‘Do not look back’ he whispered.
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