Meet the saint of the Poppies…
When she woke in the morning, the crowd had gathered again. Her eyes cracked open, squinting in pain against the glare of the sun.
They’d kill her now. Pillar Olesya had spent no small amount of time on the small section of the Book of the Helm that went into depth regarding how to recognize a witch, how to determine the veracity of a claim against a witch, and how to kill a witch. She was no princess; she had always been meant to be a harvest wife. They could read to her from the Book of the Helm, teach her what fork to use, and squeeze her into all the dresses they wanted, but Andrus was right, she would always be the girl from Rús, and that girl belonged in the mud. A harvest wife, by the standards of Abdiera, was a witch, and despite not having been permitted the ceremony that would have wed her to the rosta, she remained a harvest wife. She wondered, briefly, if they’d seen her feet when they’d undressed her, or had Cadíl somehow managed to keep them hidden?
When her eyes came fully open, she saw that the red flower she’d seen in the seed had not only grown in the night, but had fully bloomed, as had a host of grasses, small white daisies and others she had no name for. Anchor Ambrose spoke in a loud clear voice for all to hear. “The Cascadii people believe in saints. The people of the Helm do not. We do not disregard the teachings of the Cascadii, only that our own book mentions no saints and we have never had one among us qualify as a saint. The Cascadii say that in order to become a saint, a person must perform two miracles while they live, one of which saves the life of another, both of which must be witnessed by no less than two people. The people of Ercot and Bern have just witnessed the crowning of Abdiera’s first saint, who stilled the waters of the Blydes, that the few remaining men of Ercot might not be swept away in her depths and might re-establish the ferry to allow for a Justice of the Helm to take place. Through my own voice, the God spoke and promised the men of Ercot that they would safely cross the Blydes, and through Princess Liseli’s hand, His promise was kept.”
“Some of those among us,” he went on, “whispered the word, ‘witch,’ amongst ourselves. And although she saved the lives of the men of Ercot, this woman was not even permitted to shelter under a roof during her distress. Some of us thought, perhaps she would die during the night and deservedly so. This morning, God has spoken, and a second miracle has been performed, as you see around you,” he spread his arms wide, signaling to something Liseli had yet to see herself. He then looked down to Liseli, who had not moved, and continued in his loud voice, “During your birthing, the one true God named you Liseli, after the first mother of Abdiera. Let you go forward with a new name,” he bent and poured a ladle of water over her head, “Liseli, Saint of the Poppies.”
Inspiration for this scene came from several places. RING OF SALT AND STONE takes place in a time that is similar to the opening of our own industrial age, which began around 1760, nearly 100 years after the Salem Witch Trials. Because several events relating to the Salem Witch Trials came up for me during a noodle that needed to be solved one day (see notes on bricolage writing), I decided to overlap the time and insert witches into RING OF SALT AND STONE. When I come to places where the characters could reasonably make more than one decision, I roll a set of dice to decide which decision they will make. Liseli’s character line took an unfortunate turn, one which I wasn’t certain how to save her from, which led to the need for her to perform a miracle. The struggle to decide what Liseli’s second miracle should be was a short one, she was, after all, meant to be the harvest wife, and a painting of poppies at sunrise hangs on the wall in my office. To the right, you’ll find what she woke up to before she realized she was not alone.
