asked, tripping clumsily and obediently after his mother's skinny frame.
"We're going to stop a wedding," she said.
"How?" he asked.
"Just do as I say and you shall see."
* * *
It was not at all the kind of wedding Lark had envisioned either. She was not a chuchgoer, and the exterior of the church felt unfamiliar to her. This was not her god who was worshipped here, though she held no ill will the villagers who did call him lord. Reverend Fordham stood by the altar, his eyes flickering nervously between the couple and the man who stood to the side. Reverend Fervor stared hard at Lark, disappointment in his dark eyes. She knew he'd rather she'd gotten her way and fled so he could have brought her back and had his way with her.
Lark took Colin's hand, unaware that people were filling the church now to watch this impromptu ceremony. The crowd parted as Gertrude Pratt pushed her way to the front, determination writ deep into the lines of her homely, pinched face. Lester's scowl, too, had deepened as he watched Colin take the hands of the woman his mother had assured him would be his.
The vows were read. Lester looked to his mother for some sign of what to do.
"If there be any man here who would object to this union," the Reverend intoned after both Lark and Colin had said their parts - he with a certain voice and hers barely above a whisper. "Let him speak now or forever hold his peace..."
"My son objects!" Gertrude grabbed Lester's shirt and jerked him forward as if he weighed nothing. Lester, unexpecting of the move, tripped forward and nearly took out the pew he hit with his leg.
"Ow!" he protested. "But she ignored him."
Reverend Fordham's eyes widened and he looked nervously at the butcher's mother, whom he knew to be the personification of trouble.
"And what manner would that objection take, woman? Let your son speak."
"My son is a gentleman!" she screeched. "And I come to speak for him and to also ask the Lord's forgiveness as a mother. For this woman ...." She pointed a bony finger at Lark. "This woman who now weds another did already use her witchcraft to charm my son to her bed!"
The crowd erupted into gasps.
"No!" Lark said, sickened at the claim.
"You know it is true, witch!" screamed Gertrude Pratt. She shoved her son forward. "Tell them!"
He looked nervously at his mother and then at the reverend. Did she really expect him to lie to a man of God in God's own house. The thought terrified him, but the wrath of his mother was far more terrifying.
"Y-yes," he said. "And more than once. She came to me in dreams and I....I woke up to find myself naked in her bed."
"Liar!" Lark cried, and launched herself at Gertrude and her son. But Colin grabbed her before she could raise her hand and cast the spell he felt brewing in her.
"Silence!" Reverend Fervor stepped between them, his finger pointed at Lark. "It is not for a woman to speak in the house of God."
Lark started to point out that he'd allowed one to lie, but Colin squeezed her as a warning and she bit her tongue.
"This is a lie," Colin said. "What trickery is this, you foul carrion?"
Gertrude smirked. "Call me what you will, but my son as already taken this woman's maidenhead. And under God's law he should take your place by her side for these vows."
"I have never lain with your ugly son," Lark shot back. "And I will never take vows with him." Her voice grew cold now and a flash of lightning lit the sky up outside. "Never."
The crowd began to murmur nervously. Had the witch caused the storm that now sent rain in angry sheets to hammer the chapel? Or was it merely the warning of an angry God to respect his house? Someone here was lying, but who dared defile this place of worship with deceit? The villagers looked from one couple to the other and nearly all thought the same thing. Lark, despite the accusations, had healed them when they were ill. When they could pay no more than a chicken or a loaf of bread she'd accepted it graciously. The
"We're going to stop a wedding," she said.
"How?" he asked.
"Just do as I say and you shall see."
* * *
It was not at all the kind of wedding Lark had envisioned either. She was not a chuchgoer, and the exterior of the church felt unfamiliar to her. This was not her god who was worshipped here, though she held no ill will the villagers who did call him lord. Reverend Fordham stood by the altar, his eyes flickering nervously between the couple and the man who stood to the side. Reverend Fervor stared hard at Lark, disappointment in his dark eyes. She knew he'd rather she'd gotten her way and fled so he could have brought her back and had his way with her.
Lark took Colin's hand, unaware that people were filling the church now to watch this impromptu ceremony. The crowd parted as Gertrude Pratt pushed her way to the front, determination writ deep into the lines of her homely, pinched face. Lester's scowl, too, had deepened as he watched Colin take the hands of the woman his mother had assured him would be his.
The vows were read. Lester looked to his mother for some sign of what to do.
"If there be any man here who would object to this union," the Reverend intoned after both Lark and Colin had said their parts - he with a certain voice and hers barely above a whisper. "Let him speak now or forever hold his peace..."
"My son objects!" Gertrude grabbed Lester's shirt and jerked him forward as if he weighed nothing. Lester, unexpecting of the move, tripped forward and nearly took out the pew he hit with his leg.
"Ow!" he protested. "But she ignored him."
Reverend Fordham's eyes widened and he looked nervously at the butcher's mother, whom he knew to be the personification of trouble.
"And what manner would that objection take, woman? Let your son speak."
"My son is a gentleman!" she screeched. "And I come to speak for him and to also ask the Lord's forgiveness as a mother. For this woman ...." She pointed a bony finger at Lark. "This woman who now weds another did already use her witchcraft to charm my son to her bed!"
The crowd erupted into gasps.
"No!" Lark said, sickened at the claim.
"You know it is true, witch!" screamed Gertrude Pratt. She shoved her son forward. "Tell them!"
He looked nervously at his mother and then at the reverend. Did she really expect him to lie to a man of God in God's own house. The thought terrified him, but the wrath of his mother was far more terrifying.
"Y-yes," he said. "And more than once. She came to me in dreams and I....I woke up to find myself naked in her bed."
"Liar!" Lark cried, and launched herself at Gertrude and her son. But Colin grabbed her before she could raise her hand and cast the spell he felt brewing in her.
"Silence!" Reverend Fervor stepped between them, his finger pointed at Lark. "It is not for a woman to speak in the house of God."
Lark started to point out that he'd allowed one to lie, but Colin squeezed her as a warning and she bit her tongue.
"This is a lie," Colin said. "What trickery is this, you foul carrion?"
Gertrude smirked. "Call me what you will, but my son as already taken this woman's maidenhead. And under God's law he should take your place by her side for these vows."
"I have never lain with your ugly son," Lark shot back. "And I will never take vows with him." Her voice grew cold now and a flash of lightning lit the sky up outside. "Never."
The crowd began to murmur nervously. Had the witch caused the storm that now sent rain in angry sheets to hammer the chapel? Or was it merely the warning of an angry God to respect his house? Someone here was lying, but who dared defile this place of worship with deceit? The villagers looked from one couple to the other and nearly all thought the same thing. Lark, despite the accusations, had healed them when they were ill. When they could pay no more than a chicken or a loaf of bread she'd accepted it graciously. The
Similar Books
