The Enterprise of Death - Jesse Bullington [125]
“Less eloquent than I would’ve put it,” said Johan. “But true for the coarseness.”
“Coarse, am I? Well, that’s a touch coarser yourself than last you commented on my texture, you—”
“Ysabel,” said Awa. “I think I understand what Johan was up to. Now, what happened when you met him?”
“I was passing by when the old priest run this fox off, and I took pity on him, being far from in that particular rooster’s good graces myself. I come down from a Waldensian upbringing and my husband of course tells the priest, who’s none too fond to hear it, especially with me tending to women up at my place without his holy ears hearing the specifics. So I invited this cheat back to my house, which was a ways out of town, so I thought none would be the wiser of me taking in a scrawny ne’er-do-well out of the goodness of my heart.”
“Goodness of your heart,” said Johan, “or a lusty thought to poach my eel and eggs? We’ll get the truth out you yet!”
Ysabel made a low groan, then said, “ … I thought him fair for being a rascal, and my husband had moved back in with his mother the next town over, and he and I, my husband, I mean, we were about done with each other, or at least I was done with him and … I thought I might get something from the ginger goat.”
“And get it she did!” said Johan, then ducked as Ysabel threw a stone at him.
“So he lays his dirty bag of bones out on my table, and starts laying in his lies as we eat, and the whole time he’s coming off fishier and fishier, cause I’m country but I’m not stupid, and finally I tell him if he’s sport we might have a game to play, if only to shut him up. So in we get to it, his bone the shakiest of the lot—”
“Hey! No call—”
“And my husband decides this is the time to get the priest’s help in patching things up twixt me and him, so up they come as I’m doing the same, and that’s that,” said Ysabel.
“That it was.” Johan nodded. “Got myself done in for doing an old woman a favor.”
“Favor? Old?” Ysabel was feeling on the ground for another rock.
“What do you mean, that was that?” asked Awa. “The priest and your husband discovered you? Then what?”
“Well, then they killed us,” said Ysabel, glancing at Johan and shrugging.
“What!” Awa shook her head. “How could they?! Why would they?! For what?”
“For fucking,” said Ysabel, “though if my husband or the priest had a decent bone in their bodies they wouldn’t have. They said we were both witches, and that was that.”
“Witches?” Awa could not believe it. “But why would they think you were witches for, for—”
“Well, he had just blown into town dressed like a monk, and right after pissing up the priest’s leg he went over to the resident witch’s, me, I mean, and was caught with his wick in the wax, still dressed like a monk and with bones hither and yon,” explained Ysabel.
“Ahem,” said Johan. “A-hem.”
“Resident … you’re a witch?” Awa had never met another of her kind since leaving the mountain, but her excitement was short-lived.
“Well, not as such,” said Ysabel. “I knew what herbs to help get rid of a babe, or help keep it, and I might’ve had one or two nights when me and some friends got into the belladonna and, you know, ridden a broom or two”—she made her hand into a fist and pumped it in front of her pelvis—“but not like, real witchery. Nothing like you, to be sure.”
“Oh,” said Awa. “And they killed you for that?”
“A pretext on the part of my shitty husband and that shitty priest.” Ysabel sighed. “Or maybe they thought they were doing the Lord’s business. End result’s the same.”
“Once my foot’s better we’ll go down there.” Awa nodded slowly. “We’ll see to this priest, and we’ll see to your husband, and … what?”
The skeletons were both looking curiously at her. Johan made a sound