The Secret of Isobel Key (5 page)

Tammy interrupted the story. “Wait a minute. People stood for that? What about neighborly love and all that?” Her voice rose passionately as she spoke, and the scowling bartender gave their table a long, cold glare.

The woman shook her head sadly. “People will stand for anythin' so long as it is not they nor their kin who are accused. Perhaps a fair number of the trials stemmed from genuine fear of the devil and his demons, but I would wager to you that a fair many more were simply methods for removing difficult members of the community.” She shook her head again, this time vigorously, and she looked first at Lou and then at Tammy. “You shouldn't be so surprised at such a thing. Your people had their fair share of land grabs, child, and not all those were disguised as witch trials, if I remember rightly!”

Tammy looked huffy, but Lou nodded, and said quietly, “Salem. And the Indian raids.” She paused, fiddling with her glass. “And the way people who are different are still treated.” The old woman nodded at her, and continued.

“We knew of that here, we did, and sad we were each time we heard of such folly being carried out, both in our own land and across the ocean. So you see, lassies, this town is no backwater. We have long memories, and perhaps we remember more than other places because we were so long in being tied to the major cities like Edinburgh, or St. Andrews on the sea. The big cities burned the witches, and the little villages remember the folly. I heard it all at the knee of my grandmother, one of the last witches of Lochalsh, she was, and a wiser woman never lived.” Shaking her head, her eyes suddenly focused on the empty whiskey glasses on the table, and the woman clucked her tongue. She stood to leave, glasses in hand, but glanced once more at Lou. “Don't worry, child. They do not burn witches any longer.” She glided away and Lou shivered in her seat, feeling ice on her spine.

Tammy laughed, and looked at Lou. “What a spooky way to end that story! She's good—I'll bet she tells that yarn to all the local kids, just to give them nightmares. I wonder if
the
story is true though, about the king and the witches. I'll have to ask Brian about it on the bus.” Tammy chattered on happily, not noticing the glassy expression Lou wore throughout the meal. Tammy filled the silence easily, but Lou remained uncomfortably aware of the old woman's parting words. The girls settled their tab, leaving a bit extra on the table as thanks for the whiskey and the story. The old woman did not reappear, even though Tammy lingered, slowly counting the money out twice before finally rising to go. The bartender glowered as they left but did not speak.

Lou wanted to rush back to the safety of the tour bus, but Tammy was bent on exploring the little village, so Lou trailed along with her friend, struggling to appear interested in the quaint shops that lined the streets, all the while ignoring the sites around her as the words of the strange woman echoed in her mind.
Don't worry, child. They do not burn witches any longer.
Lou felt cold, and it wasn't because of the drizzling rain.

When Isobel was eighteen, the Brahn Seer was brutally executed on charges of witchcraft.

Although she lived on the eastern shore of Scotland and he on an island far to the west, news of the Brahn Seer had reached St. Andrews long before his execution. The man, Coinneach Odhar, was possessed of a fairy stone, a rock through which he could peer and see the future. Although he had practiced his craft for years under the patronage of very powerful members of the royal court, Coinneach Odhar ran afoul of the royals in some way. The word that trickled into St. Andrews was a mish mash of rumors and flat out lies, but all were taken as truth and repeated as such. Isobel heard her parents whispering about the murder one night when they thought the children had been asleep for hours.

According to her parents, the man was charged with consorting with the devil for his powers of sight. He had been stuffed in a barrel which was then sealed shut with tar before it was ignited. The grisly image of this execution stretched across Scotland, spread by travelers who had heard it directly from one who witnessed the killing. Isobel's parents spoke that night of Coinneach Odhar not out of the desire to gossip, but out of fear. Mary Key had the gift of sight, not an extreme dose, but enough to predict to the hour a time when a woman would deliver her child. Her predictions as to the sex of the children that were born in the village were legendary for their accuracy as well, and the word of Mary Key was enough for a family to begin sewing sundries for their child.

The Keys talked long into the night, arguing about whether the execution could possibly have any effect on their lives. Mary Key was of the mind that it was all nonsense, and Isobel silently agreed with her mother from her perch in the loft. But her quiet, practical father was concerned; what if someone took a grudge with the family and used the knowledge of Mary's skill as proof of witchcraft? His earnestness made Isobel chuckle quietly to herself, and she drifted off to sleep that night in a state of quiet bliss. The last sound she heard before sleep claimed her was her parents kissing softly. All was right with her world, and the execution of a man on the other side of Scotland would have no bearing on her family.

The next morning, Mary Key began dictating her recipes and remedies to her daughter. Isobel scribbled furiously on sheets of parchment that her father had pinched from the university. She did not ask her mother about the Brahn Seer, and Mary did not volunteer any information. Isobel didn't know why her mother was doubling her education, but she soaked up every word Mary Key uttered. Some of it she had learned long ago as she apprenticed to her mother, but other things were new. Her eager mind committed the spells to memory as her pen committed them to the page. Mary Key had no way of knowing that she and her daughter were compiling something which would have looked suspiciously like a witch's grimoire to any zealot or magistrate.

Back in the cozy bed and breakfast in Inverness, Lou pulled off the soaking wool cap and stripped off her socks. Tammy had already changed and was flopped across the bed in flannel pajama pants, a roomy sweatshirt that smelled faintly of her most recent ex, and fuzzy slipper socks.

Lou draped her wet clothes over the old radiator and pulled on a ratty terrycloth robe that was far too short. Tammy had started a fire in the small woodstove, and Lou was grateful for the heat. She dragged the old rocking chair in front of the stove and sat, staring thoughtfully at the flames. Tammy stretched like a cat, her fingers and toes reaching in opposite directions, and sighed happily. Unaware of Lou's melancholy mood, Tammy began to chatter away.

“I was talking to Brian on the drive back, isn't he just the hottest thing you've ever seen?” She didn't notice the color that appeared on Lou's face before she continued to prattle. “Anyway, he says the old bat had most of her facts right, after all. What she talked about is known as the North Berwick witch trials, and it really was the first time the burning mania made it up into Scotland. The rest of Europe, even England, had already been accusing witches for years, but I guess Scotland was a bit behind the times, which isn't really surprising, considering how rural everything here still is.”

Lou stared into the flames, silent.

Tammy pulled out her notebook and flipped it open. “Brian told me something. Over the one hundred and forty years that witches were tried in Scotland, anywhere from 2,000 to 4,000 people were accused. I can only assume that an accusation was as good as a death sentence. Isn't that neat? I mean, not neat for the so called witches, but neat to know.” Tammy was used to speaking to Lou and not often getting any verbal response, so she kept going with her story, completely missing the pained expression that swept across her friend's face.

“Brian also told me something about Edinburgh. Remember the castle? Well, that's not a very old castle, and when they were building it, they had to drain a swamp and do you know what they found? Hundreds of skeletons, mostly female, so they think the swamp was used for witch testing! You know, the water test, to see if they could float or not. That sounds so stupid to me. I've heard they even tied the women up so that they couldn't swim, but then when they drowned they were considered innocent. You know what else floats?” Tammy interrupted herself with a gleam in her eye, but Lou couldn't catch her enthusiasm. “A duck! Right? Or a piece of wood? Hey, she turned me into a newt, but I got better!” Lou nodded absentmindedly at Tammy's random foray into British comedy, and Tammy sighed in exasperation. Not one to let an inactive audience deter her for long, she returned to her original topic with renewed enthusiasm.

“Anyways, Brian says no one is quite sure, since there aren't records of anything like that, but he also said that a lot of the trial records have probably been lost, anyway. Isn't that cool and kind of gruesome, Lou? What a great Halloween story all this would make!” Struck by a sudden idea, Tammy grinned broadly. “You know what we should do? We should throw a party when we get back to Boston. It can be a Scottish scary stories party, like Halloween in winter! Oh! Maybe we can do it for a belated New Years! Won't that be a blast? Lou? Hey! Wake up over there!” Tammy threw a pillow off the bed, hitting Lou on the shoulder, and her friend absently turned around to look at her.

“I'm sorry, Tammy, I think I dozed off. It's been a long day.” Lou felt bad lying to her best friend, but how could she tell her that her stories of witches and mass graves were making
her
nauseous without explaining why? That was a bridge Lou wasn't prepared to cross just yet, and Tammy accepted her lie willingly enough.

Shrugging in acceptance, Tammy took out her travel journal, and Lou went back to gazing at the flames, hearing the dying screams of women and men in her mind as she watched the innocuous little fire burn in the woodstove in their cozy room in 21st century Scotland. Desperate to clear her mind of the haunting images, Lou made a snap decision and turned to face her friend.

“I have an announcement to make,” she paused, waiting for Tammy to look up and focus on her, before continuing. “Before we left for this trip, well, I quit my job.” Lou fell silent, feeling her cheeks burn at this unexpected declaration, but Tammy leapt up from the bed after a beat and let out a cheerful whoop.

“Oh, Lou, that's the best news I've heard all day! I hadn't wanted to say anything,” she added, “but that job just wasn't good enough for you! Why, with your brains and your education, you should own a book store someday, not work as a cashier in one.” Tammy wrapped her best friend up in a tight squeeze, and Lou tried to hug her back.

“I know!” Tammy exclaimed, releasing Lou so fast she almost fell into the rocking char. “This calls for a real celebration! Let's see if there's any place in this town where we can get a margarita!” Tammy had already begun pulling on her jeans and fluffing her hair, and Lou realized that arguing would just delay the inevitable, even if she didn't feel like celebrating at all. She wanted to tell Tammy that quitting her job was the scariest thing she'd ever done, but she didn't think Tammy would understand.

Lou sighed. Even though she wanted to curl up in her bed and sleep, Lou realized that saying no to Tammy was like asking a hurricane to change course. At least, Lou thought wryly, this might take her mind off the macabre thoughts of innocent men and women being burned to death.

Staggering only slightly on the wet cobblestones, Lou fought back the urge to curse as Tammy fumbled in her bag for the key. The kind old lady with iridescent hair who ran the bed and breakfast the girls were staying at had provided them with a house key earlier in the evening. When Tammy announced their intent to experience the nightlife of Inverness, the woman had looked puzzled, but she had handed over a key nonetheless and reminded the girls to be quiet upon entry. Feeling as if she had just told her grandmother that she planned to get stinking drunk, Lou hadn't been able to meet the proprietress's eye as they went into the damp street.

That had been three hours ago. Despite Tammy's dogged pursuit, margaritas seemed as foreign to the Highlands as the two tourists, so the girls had finally circled back around to the first pub they had checked. Once they were deposited in a peeling vinyl booth in the back, Tammy had ordered round after round of cider, loudly proclaiming for all the locals to hear that they were out to celebrate. She even went so far as to try to incite a group of elderly Scots to buy Lou a drink in honor of her unemployment. Lou shuddered at the memory, thankful that she had managed to pull Tammy out into the street before she dropped straight through the center of the earth in mortification.

Now they stood outside the darkened stoop of the B&B and Tammy couldn't find the key. Lou was drunker than she liked to admit, and her mood, which hadn't started out too fine, was rapidly disintegrating. She had the sense that if Tammy didn't produce the key quickly that she was about to pick a fight with her best friend. And Lou was just drunk enough that she might have had the courage to say some of the things that had been building up over the long duration of her friendship with Tammy.

Just as Lou was opening her mouth with no idea what it was she planned to say, Tammy giggled in delight.

“There it is! Stupid thing, it was shoved in my wallet.”

Lou breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She was so close to curling up in her bed and sleeping until dawn, she could almost taste the relaxation that waited for her inside.

“Lou-isa,” Tammy giggled, mocking Lou's mother with her tone, “just what are you planning to do with your life, young lady?” Tammy leaned against the closed door, dangling the key from her hand. It took all of Lou's willpower not to throttle her friend and leave the alcohol sodden body there on the wet street. Gritting her teeth, Lou leaned past Tammy for the key. Tammy shifted, moving the key out of reach, and giggled again. “You didn't answer my question, Lou-isa. No answer, no key!”