Suspicion in St. Osyth

Febey watched as Ursula crushed herbs in her wooden mortar. The cottage smelled of lavender and rosemary, scents that always made Febey feel safe. 'Will this make Mrs. Pechy's joints stop hurting?' she asked, peering at the green paste. Ursula smiled warmly at her stepdaughter, her gray hair catching the afternoon light.

Thomas tugged at Febey's sleeve in the village square. 'My mother says we shouldn't talk to your stepmother anymore,' he whispered. Febey's stomach tightened as she noticed the stares from the villagers. 'But why?' she asked, watching a group of women huddle together, casting glances toward her.

Ales Hunt paced the small kitchen, her face drawn with worry. 'Febey, you must be careful what you say about Ursula's remedies,' she warned. 'People are frightened of things they don't understand.' Febey nodded, though confusion clouded her young mind.

Joan Pechy stood in their doorway, her wrinkled face twisted with anger. 'Your potions made my cow die!' she shouted at Ursula. Febey hid behind the door, watching Ursula's calm denial. 'I only gave you herbs for your pain, Joan,' Ursula replied softly.

Men came to their cottage as dawn broke. Febey clung to her mother as they took Ursula away. 'She's a witch!' someone shouted from the gathering crowd. Tears streamed down Febey's face as Ursula looked back one last time.

Thomas found Febey hiding behind the baker's shop. 'I don't think your stepmother is a witch,' he whispered, offering her a piece of bread. 'My father says she helped birth me when no one else could.' Febey wiped her tears, grateful for his kindness.

The village hall was packed with people as Ursula stood before the magistrate. Febey and Ales sat in the back, holding hands tightly. 'She made my child ill with her evil eye,' a woman testified. Febey wanted to shout that it wasn't true.

Joan Pechy hobbled to the front, her gray hair wild around her face. 'She cursed me when I wouldn't pay for her remedies,' she claimed. 'My joints hurt worse after her treatment.' Febey remembered how Ursula had often given Joan medicine for free.

Febey tugged at her mother's sleeve. 'I must tell them about the good things Ursula does,' she insisted. Ales looked down with sad eyes. 'They won't listen to a child, my love,' she whispered.

The magistrate's voice boomed through the hall. 'Ursula Kemp, you are found guilty of witchcraft.' Febey's world seemed to collapse around her. Thomas found her hand in the crowd and squeezed it gently.

Weeks passed in a blur of grief and confusion. Ales and Febey kept to themselves, tending their small garden. 'Why did they believe lies about Ursula?' Febey asked one evening. Ales stroked her daughter's light brown hair. 'Fear makes people forget their kindness,' she answered.

Spring came to St. Osyth, bringing fresh green leaves. Febey planted herbs as Ursula had taught her. 'I'll remember the truth about her,' she promised Thomas as they worked. 'And someday, others will know it too.'