* * * * *
Copyright Oggbashan October 2005
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
* * * * *
We were running late. We had intended to meet up with our friends at the campsite near Sandwich, in Kent about seven on Friday evening. It was going to be a party of our re-enactment group to end the summer's activities. It had been arranged for the weekend of Halloween so there would be an element of witchcraft and spooky things.
There had been a major traffic accident on the M2 motorway that had left us stationary for hours. When we reached the end of the motorway we took the wrong turning and drove down to Dover before turning north again towards Sandwich. Then we got lost. At eleven o'clock we decided we had had enough. We were just outside the town wall of Sandwich. There was a car parking space with an empty field beside it. We stopped, threw our camping equipment over the low fence and erected the tent on a flat patch of higher ground.
All around us was wet and misty, dank and drear. There was a stream beside the field that barely moved under the faint glow of the streetlights. It looked cold and muddy.
The theme of tomorrow's party was 'Guys and Dolls'. The men had to come as women; the women as men and both in Elizabethan or Jacobean costume. Marie had chosen a basic pair of trousers and a hooded tunic top with a pair of loose leather boots. She had found a full woollen dress for me to wear over a cotton shift. My feet, if anyone could see them, would be in sandals. On my head I would wear a shoulder-length brown wig topped with a white linen wimple. Both our costumes were loose fitting.
Marie intended to wear a broad leather belt with a sheath knife. I had a long gold leather girdle that hung down at the front almost to my feet. We could wear jeans under both costumes if the weather was cold. It was cold in our tent. It may have been the effect of all the water near us. We wore our costumes over our pyjamas inside our sleeping bags. I didn't wear the wig but the wimple was a welcome cover around my head.
"Goodnight, Colin."
"Goodnight, Marie."
We were too tired and too cold for anything to happen between us that night. Why should it? We were sharing a flat as husband and wife in all but name. One night without sex was no great sacrifice. Freezing our skins just to make love would have been the sacrifice.
It was still dark when I was woken up by the sound of many feet tramping through the muddy field. Through the tent I could see flames as if from flaming brands.
"There they are!" Someone shouted. "Get the witches!"
The feet broke into a run. Was it another group of people having a Halloween event?
Our tent was knocked over and wrenched away. Dozens of hands grabbed us. I could see Marie's mouth covered by a dirty hand as another silenced me. My girdle was used to tie my wrists and elbows tightly. A dirty cloth was stuffed down my throat. The smell of the people holding me was rank. They couldn't have washed for months.
I couldn't believe what was happening to us. After the cry of 'Get the witches!' not a word had been said. I could hear Marie squealing faintly behind that hand. I couldn't see her. My head was forced downwards and sacking was tied around my lower face to hold the gag in place.
When my head was released and I could look around Marie's head had been encased in a metal cage. I had seen such a thing in a museum labelled as a scold's bridle. My sackcloth was removed and I too had a scold's bridle clamped around my head. A metal tongue moved the cloth deeper into my mouth. I couldn't shut my lips because there were spikes holding my tongue down and pressing against my upper palate.
Marie and I were dragged to the edge of the stream. There a man stood with torchbearers on either side. His face was shadowed by a wide-brimmed hat.
"These are the witches? You are sure?"
