Beneath the White Plastic Cows

"Until my child is back in my arms,

none of you shall fly again,

nor your children,

nor your children's children."

Her face was lit by the glow of the hearth fire, that made her eyes shine orange and the tears on her cheeks glisten. She reached her arms into the air, her hair surrounding her head in a black halo, curls springing up like horns. In one hand she was holding a bundle of feathers. A nervous whisper spread through the group of women who had gathered around her. She raised her hand high over the hearth and started throwing the feathers into the flames, one by one, while her sisters watched in horror, unable to stop her. The white, long feather of a swan turned to charcoal in the fire, followed by the black feather of a raven, sizzling, one that was shining in hues of blue, of a magpie, filling the room with smoke, a reddish brown one of a robin that twisted and turned in the fire and finally she held a last one in her trembling hands.

"All of you came running to me to escape your cages, but when it was my time to ask for help, you abandoned me," she said with a cracking voice that seemed to come from all around them.

Nobody moved, nobody protested. The last feather was patterned, from the wing of a great owl and as it burned, the fire turned blue and illuminated the faces of her sisters, speechless and scared.

"Now go, search, bring him back," Jeanne pleaded, suddenly much less imposing. Nobody moved for a moment, only Marguerite tried to approach Jeanne.

"You as well, search for him if you have a soul," said Jeanne, backing away from the sister. Thus they parted, each with a guilty heart, but each hoping that they would find him.

Robin

Seven days earlier, Jeanne had opened the door to her apothecary, like every morning, one hand fumbling with the key, one holding tight onto Gabriel, who had seen a bird in the distance and was about to wander off. It had been easier when he was little, when she could strap him around her waist and carry him around, but now he was almost three years old and had a mind of his own.

"Come little dove," Jeanne called, "You can have a cup of mint tea with honey."

The mention of tea and honey convinced the child and he followed his mother inside. The rows of glass bottles filled with herbs and plants, reaching up to the ceiling, had not lost their fascination for the boy. Not a day went by when he didn't ask his mother to teach him what the wondrous markings on the bottles meant. He wanted to help her, so today he put his skills to the test and when Jeanne came back from the depth of the back room with a cup of hot water, he had already brought her the glass with the inscription that read "fresh mint".

"Didn't I put it in a different row yesterday?" wondered Jeanne.

"I read the sticker," exclaimed the boy proudly and pointed at the label. “I can help you now.”

"Gabriel…", Jeanne sighed, taking the glass from him and steeping some of the green leaves in the water. He was a pretty child, with blond hair and blue eyes, like his father. But his curls were his mother's.

"Promise me not to tell anyone. You're too young to know how to read... and people are talking already."

"What are they talking?" he asked, sipping his hot tea on his stool by the counter.

They say an unmarried girl like her should not be raising a child on her own. They say a woman should not work with medicine, they say she should not know to give sage tea against a sore throat, how to cure a headache with lavender, monk's pepper to improve fertility, use chamomile to appease anxiety, rosemary to repair a broken heart, …

"They say I'm a witch," she finally said.

"What is a -" Gabriel began, but the door opened and the first customer of the day came in. Although everyone mistrusted Jeanne, they still came to her in times of need. Today, it was her best friend and fellow sister who entered her shop.

"I was just walking by the harbour and saw your cousin arrive with the morning ferry," Marguerite said out of breath, her chest heaving and red from running up to the shop. The two women embraced each other. She came every morning for her medicine, usually with a fresh story about one of the villagers.

"My cousin?" asked Jeanne confused. He was not a frequent visitor.

"Yes, with a woman. They mentioned they want to live in your aunt's mansion for the stay. I thought you should know."

Jeanne looked over to Gabriel, who was happily playing with the mint leaves in his tea, unaware that his home might be taken from him. Her aunt had died two years ago and left Jeanne the house, but she had barely enough money to keep it livable. Until now she had assumed that her cousin had no interest in the property, but something must have changed his mind.

"Marguerite, would you take care of the apothecary for a moment? You can help yourself to some tea, I already prepared the monk's pepper," Jeanne said and when Marguerite agreed, she took Gabriel and ran up the streets with him, past the castle by the harbour, up the narrow roads out of town. She hoped she would catch her cousin to remind him of her presence and plead with him to leave her the house. Maybe Gabriel would help, surely they would not evict a small boy from his home.

Magpie

Jeanne caught her cousin up on the hill where her aunt's mansion stood at the end of a lane of ash trees. The only part of the town that was visible from here was the castle tower, looming dark in front of the distant lake. She hadn't seen her cousin since his mother's funeral, at which point he had shown no inclination to take care of his inheritance.

"Henri," Jeanne greeted him when she was near enough for him to hear. He was accompanied by a lady in an emerald green gown with a stern look under her round glasses. Jeanne recognised her from some years ago. Her name was Vivienne. Each Sunday night she had fled from her family who was poor and had made her work in the bakery from dawn till dusk. But now the woman's white face was motionless and Jeanne understood that she wasn't to admit their former sisterhood.

"Cousin Jeanne," Henri replied, not noticing the silent words exchanged between the two women. "How nice of you to join us. This is my wife, Vivienne Dubois." They exchanged the customary kisses, and when their cheeks touched, she whispered in Jeanne's ear: "Say nothing." Henri had never been aware of his mother's activities and clearly, his wife was not keen on letting him know she had been part of them.

"The garden has been neglected," she said loudly, looking around at the overgrown bushes and flower beds. "And who put these hideous things here?" she asked, pointing at a group of white plastic cows, that stood lazily around the lawn. Clearly the peculiar taste of Jeanne's aunt had not been inherited by her cousin, who also raised his eyebrows in disdain.

"Good thing we won't stay long," Henri said and Jeanne felt a weight fall off her shoulders.

"I'm glad to house you for as long as you like," she said, now more inclined to try for friendly relations. "Let me show you inside," she added.

"You live here?" Mrs. Dubois asked, with another glance at the falling facade of the once imposing house.

"Ever since… I moved out," Jeanne said, but her relatives must have understood the meaning, as they turned their heads to Gabriel, who was hiding behind Jeanne's skirt. Ever since her parents had thrown her out for getting herself pregnant as a teenager and her aunt had taken her in. Although Jeanne didn't know if it had been her age or the fact that she had refused to disclose the father's name, that had made her parents disinherit their only daughter.

"So this is the little darling?" said Mrs. Dubois and tried to catch Gabriel's eyes.

"My son, Gabriel," Jeanne said.

"We will have time to get to know him better in the next days," said Henri hastily. "Now let's get settled."

Jeanne wondered at his words, but lead them up the alley and in through the main entrance. There were four bedrooms in the house, but only two were maintained and kept warm. Jeanne offered Gabriel's room to her relatives and explained to the boy that they would share her own bedroom in the coming days.

"It has the nice view of the castle that you like so much," she said, but he was unusually quiet.

"He doesn't speak yet?" asked Mrs. Dubois with honest concern in her voice.

“I can speak, but I can't read,” Gabriel said with a coy smile.

"He is just shy with strangers," explained Jeanne, grinning back at her son.

"He will get used to us in time, don't worry," said Henri reassuringly to his wife.

Jeanne was more and more confused. Without meaning to, she had grabbed Gabriel's arm and the little boy, surprised by his mother's agitation, tried to hug her waist.

"I thought you would not stay long?" she asked, trying to stay calm.

"Your parents haven't informed you yet?" Mrs. Dubois said, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

"They don't think you are fit to raise a child without a husband or a home. And since we don't have children, it only makes sense to have him live with us," explained Henri as if it was the most obvious conclusion in the world.

"I have a home and we're doing fine just the two of us," Jeanne exclaimed with rising rage in her voice.

"Be reasonable,“ Mrs. Dubois said. "You're all alone and clearly struggling. We want to help you and give the boy a good home, one that isn't falling apart and has no hideous plastic cows in the garden. And besides,“ she added, “we will sell the house of course.”

“It was generous of us to let you live here all these years, but the maintenance is adding up and with a child to support, we will not have the means anymore," Henri joined in.

"I will not let you take my child away. My aunt has left me her mansion to live in when she died, as you well know."

"It was not hers to give away," Mrs. Dubois informed her. "But we will continue our generosity by leaving you the apothecary.” She smiled, apparently genuinely believing she was doing Jeanne a favour.

"There is a back room at the apothecary I believe, which should be sufficient housing for an unmarried woman," added Henri. "Without the child wearing you down, you should be able to make a good living and maybe even find a respectable husband. In time, your parents might even welcome you again.“

Jeanne was lost for words. Her body shook with anger and desperation. They were right, the house belonged to her cousin officially and without it, it would be hard to care for Gabriel. But she wouldn't let these people take him away from her.

"All right," Jeanne murmured through gritted teeth. "You have the house. But you will not take my child from me."

She took him in her arms before her relatives could move and backed away.

"But I warn you, you should stay on the lower floor. The upper one is haunted."

She looked Vivienne directly in the eyes at those words, to make her understand their meaning, hoping Henri would be superstitious enough not to go wandering around. After all, it was not just her own reputation that was at stake. With this, she left her cousin and his wife behind, with nowhere to live except the naked floor of her apothecary, where she returned now and took over again from Marguerite, who listened with compassion to her story. But when she invited Jeanne to stay with her for a while, Jeanne shook her head. She hadn't set foot in Marguerite's home in many years and she didn't dare to go back there.

When Marguerite had left, Jeanne rearranged the herbal teas, with the help of Gabriel, who kept asking where they would go and if he would have to live with the green lady.

“You don't have to go with them, I won't allow it," Jeanne said. "We could ask Ines to take us in."

“She is one of your flying friends?”, asked Gabriel and Jeanne turned around to look at him. She always made sure, that he was asleep on Sunday nights, he couldn't have seen...?

“She is an old friend of my parents,” Jeanne said instead, hoping Ines would be able to take them for a while.

Swan

Ines's husband owned the only hotel in town, opposite the castle. Ines was a beautiful woman, with long white hair and skin like snow. She had always wanted to travel, but her jealous husband didn't let her out of his sight. Except on Sundays, her only free night, when she dared to spread her wings and escape from her life for a moment. When Jeanne appeared at her doorstep, homeless, Ines found a room for her to stay in, on the upper floor that was rarely used, as the rooms were not heated in winter. But winter was coming fast, a weak sun was casting golden light over the lake.

A few days passed in suspicious peace and Jeanne didn't hear from her relatives. She had seen them wander through the town one morning and had taken the opportunity to gather a few things from the house and bring them to the apothecary. With some squeezing, a bed might fit in the back room but the money Jeanne made from selling her herbs would not be enough to afford a bigger place for her and Gabriel. At noon, four days after the arrival of bad news in the shape of her cousin, another messenger entered the apothecary, carrying a bundle of clothes that she realised were hers.

"What happened?" Jeanne asked Ines, whose white hair was flowing behind her.

"You can't stay with us any longer, I'm sorry. Here are your things, don't come back," she answered.

"Ines, what is going on?" Jeanne asked. "Sister, talk to me."

As if she had said a magic spell, Ines stopped in her tracks and without looking at Jeanne, said "Your cousin came to the hotel yesterday. They don't want to stay in the mansion any longer, they appear to have discovered…" she trailed off.

"He went to the upper floor… he found our meeting place," whispered Jeanne. Ines's silence was answer enough.

"But why are you throwing me out?" asked Jeanne.

"Because my husband does not want any witches in his house," Ines said finally.

"So he doesn't know where you vanish to every Sunday night?" asked Jeanne coldly. "You never told him?"

But Ines didn't answer. She finally met Jeanne's eyes for a brief moment before she ran out and Jeanne was left to stare at the door that fell shut behind her.

"What is a witch?" asked Gabriel again, who had watched the scene from his stool with big eyes.

"Someone who is not welcome," answered Jeanne.

Raven

A cold fear had gotten hold of Jeanne's heart. When night fell, she packed her belongings into a bag, took Gabriel by the hand and locked the apothecary behind them. One day, when her cousin had given up on the idea to steal her child, she might come back. But for now, she wanted to get as far away from him as she could. It was a short walk to the harbour, where the ferry took people across the lake every evening, to the other side and to that foreign country. Jeanne's heart was aching to leave her home as she stared into the distance, but in the light of the setting sun, she could only see the mountain range dark in front of the sky, on the far shore. They waited in the shadow of the castle.

"Why can't we live there?" Gabriel asked, pointing his finger at the looming building. Because I promised someone, Jeanne thought.

But out loud she said: "It would be nice, wouldn't it? The lord of the castle would protect us, nobody would dare to take you away."

When the time came for the ferry to leave, Ursula was nowhere to be seen. After waiting for half an hour for the ferrywoman, Jeanne finally went to her home at the shore of the lake and knocked.

"They told me to cancel the ferry this evening," was Ursula's answer.

Panic replaced fear.

"Who told you that?" Jeanne asked, holding Gabriel close to her.

"A man came, I didn't know him. He was on the ferry a few days ago, he paid me a lot of money not to leave again until he leaves himself."

"It's my cousin," said Jeanne. "Ursula, he wants Gabriel. Please, sister, I need to cross over this night, he will try to take him away."

But Ursula was adamant and even Jeanne's reminder of their bond didn't persuade her.

“Maybe we can fly over the lake,” Gabriel suggested, looking from one woman to the other.

"It is too far my dove...“, Jeanne said, kissing his cheek, and she asked Ursula: “What should I do now, where should I go?" Ursula was many years older than Jeanne and had two adult sons who still let her wash their clothes every weekend. But on Sundays, when the women gathered around the hearth, Ursula, too, was free. Jeanne had always looked up to her, but now Ursula's black eyes were cold.

"You could still be with your parents, if it hadn't been for him," Ursula said. She was the only one apart from Jeanne who knew. "Why didn't you leave the child with him?" asked the sister.

“You know I promised...“, Jeanne trailed off.

“But did you try? Did you ask him? At least he's still here,“ continued Ursula, probably thinking of her husband, who had left her to raise the two children alone.

With a heavy heart, Jeanne took her bag and turned to leave. Maybe she was right. There was nothing else to be done. Slowly, she went along the harbour wall and finally stood in front of the castle gates. From here she could see the old tree in the courtyard, towering above castle walls. She hesitated before she rang the doorbell. It had come to this at last.

"We will live in the castle after all," she whispered to Gabriel. She would lose her dearest friend, she was certain of that, but it was her last resort.

Owl

Marguerite opened the door herself. The lady of the castle, dressed in a flowing earth-coloured nightgown, was glad to see her friend.

"I heard what happened with Ines," she said. "Please let me take you in."

Jeanne thanked her, reassured by her warm welcome. She had seen Marguerite many Sundays at her aunt's mansion. Marguerite had been one of the few to admire the white plastic cows. But in recent years, Jeanne had felt that there was a wall growing between them. And this wall might harden, depending on how the lord of the castle would take her visit. Right at this moment, he descended the marble staircase, not yet dressed for bed like his wife, but in corduroy pants and a blue linen shirt. His hair was shining golden in the lamp light, elegantly framing his face with the deep, blue eyes. When he saw Jeanne, he stopped in his steps and stared at her. Then his eyes fell on the little boy who had his arms curled around her neck.

"What do you want here?" he asked, much less friendly than his wife.

"Please, we need a place to stay," Jeanne said, not looking at Marguerite. "They have come to take him away. My cousin…" she began, but he interrupted her.

"We had a deal," he said coldly.

"What is going on?" asked Marguerite, who was still standing by the door.

Jeanne would break her heart, but she had to protect her son. She knew no other way anymore.

"Please, Vincent…" Jeanne whispered. "You have to help us."

"For you it's Lord de Gras," Marguerite corrected her with an edge in her voice. She had moved between Jeanne and her husband, looking from one to the other, trying to understand.

"What is going on?" she asked again, this time directly to her husband.

"I'm so sorry…," Jeanne said. "Please, you have to take us in. Otherwise, my cousin will take him away." She was close to tears by now, still not looking at Marguerite, who had finally understood.

"He is yours?" she asked her husband. "You have called her a witch all this time and her child is yours?"

Her words were like a dagger to Jeanne's heart. Marguerite had come to Jeanne for medicine, had never missed a single coven meeting nor an opportunity to fly away from her misery. She had been a friend and a sister since Jeanne could remember. Now her voice was cold and she talked about Jeanne like the rest of them did.

"It was a long time ago," he began, but his wife interrupted him.

"About three years ago, by the looks of it," she said under her breath. "Two years after our wedding if I might remind you. And you…"

She turned to Jeanne, struggled to continue her sentence. There was so much pain in her eyes and anger and hurt. "… did you really ever give me the monk's pepper to help me have a child? Or did you poison me so yours would remain the heir?"

"I never… I didn't…" mumbled Jeanne, but there was nothing she could say to make her own betrayal hurt less. And it hurt both of their hearts. The silence that fell was dense, stretched several minutes until Gabriel wanted to get down from her arms.

"This is Vincent," Jeanne said to the child, wiping a tear from her eyes.

"Good evening," said Gabriel and let his mother put him down. "You have very nice stairs," he said and smiled.

"I will not have this child in my house," Marguerite said to nobody in particular. Slowly she began to turn and walked up the staircase, pushing past her husband.

"I told you not to say a word," said Lord de Gras with a shaking voice.

"I was quiet as long as I could, but they have come to take him and I can't let that happen. With the rumours about me being a witch flying around, nobody will help…" She searched his eyes, which had once been so loving, had never left her face, her eyes, had admired her. He had made promises to make her his lady once the divorce was through, until then she was to keep quiet not to ruin his name, but the divorce never came and she was done waiting.

"He is your son. You have to help," Jeanne said and finally he nodded.

"Since you have already ruined my marriage, you can't cause any more damage. My servants will prepare a room for you."

It was a lonely night, but Jeanne had always felt more calm in the darkness. Her senses were more alert at night and so she was watching over Gabriel, trying to comfort him.

“They're all angry at me,” he said, but Jeanne told him nobody was angry, that they were safe now, that they were with his father, but Gabriel had never known that word in relation to anyone, and the man who had his eyes, was not kind.

Dove

It must have been past midnight when a scream echoed through the night. Running footsteps came closer, a knock on the door. Jeanne moved the sleeping child and quietly left the room, where a tall man greeted her, one of the servants.

"Madame, we got word that your house is on fire."

An image of the burning plastic cows swept through her mind and she wasn't sure if she should feel pain or satisfaction, because at least her cousin wouldn't get his hands on it. But when she didn't move, the man clarified:

"The apothecary."

A single overhead lamp cast motionless shadows on the walls of the hallway. An eerie smell lay in the air, from a chimney, maybe somebody was cooking. It was too late at night to be cooking, Jeanne thought. Her mind was numb, it didn't want to understand. She didn't know what do to, was she not supposed to sleep?

A second pair of footsteps brought her back to the present. It was Marguerite, in a brown wool coat, a red scarf covering her chest.

"You should go. I will take care of Gabriel, go!" she whispered, taking Jeanne by the shoulders and pushing her towards the end of the hallway.

“Marguerite...” Jeanne began, but the sister shook her head.

“We will talk tomorrow. I will take care of him, go!”

Jeanne watched Marguerite vanish in her room. Could she leave Gabriel alone with her? But she needed to stop the fire in the apothecary, it was all she had left. Finally, she started moving, flew through the empty hall without making a sound, out the heavy, wooden doors, the short way up the street to her apothecary, which was ablaze with flames. A few dark figures were standing around it, nobody moving, their faces illuminated in red and orange. A thin rain was falling from the skies, making the fire hiss angrily.

"Nooo," Jeanne screamed, helpless in front of the flames. "Somebody help! Somebody call the firemen," she shouted to the figures. A hand touched her shoulder, it was Ursula, who tried to pull her away from the flames, but Jeanne was struggling to get free. Thick smoke was coming through the closed windows, flames had burst through the roof and the air smelled of burned wood, so biting that Jeanne started coughing.

"Let the witch go, let her burn as well," somebody shouted to Ursula.

Finally Ursula managed to pull Jeanne away from the apothecary and wild with fear, Jeanne turned around to the onlookers, searching for the voice who had called for her death.

"No more poisoning us with her witchcraft," another voice said.

Nobody confronted them, but Ursula shouted to the crowd: “Are you so blind in your hate that you will let the town burn? The fire will spread if we don't put it out.“

Jeanne screamed as if pierced with a knife and ran past the crowd of people, up the cobbled street, almost slipping on the damp stones, still coughing, and finally knocking on the door of the head of the fire brigade. But only when Ursula, out of breath, joined her, did the man open his door and summoned his men.

In the early morning the rain grew stronger, finally winning over the last flames that had been held at bay by a few people who had formed a water chain and black rivers formed from the ashes. The last clouds of smoke were hanging over the water of the lake, illuminated by the rising sun, which peaked behind the clouds. Jeanne was alone now, sitting on the street in front of what had been her life.

"Jeanne?" somebody called carefully behind her. It was Marguerite, her face ashen against the red sky.

"Jeanne… please come, something has happened. Gabriel… he ran out at night…"

As if in a trance, Jeanne turned around, white streams of tears on her face, which was smudged with soot.

"You gave him away…" she said, with no question in her voice. "You gave him to my cousin. You couldn't stand to have him in your house even for one night."

"I'm sorry about what I said, I was so angry... I know the boy is innocent in this and I didn't touch him, I swear. I fell asleep next to him and he was gone in the morning. Maybe he went home," said Marguerite. Jeanne, too weak to protest, stood up and made her way to the hotel, where her cousin was staying, leaving Marguerite behind. But Gabriel wasn't there. Neither was he at the house with the plastic cows, nor by the apothecary. Nobody had seen him.

When the evening came, Jeanne took a piece of burned wood from the ruins of her apothecary and carefully, not caring who would see her, drew the symbol of the coven, a bird's wing, on the doors of her sisters, summoning them to a meeting, at the top floor of her aunt's house.

They came, each of them, even those who had betrayed her. And she cursed them all and their ancestors, until she should be reunited with her son. Nobody would fly again, nobody escape their worries to soar through the air on birds' wings, no more witchcraft until they stood by her.

After a night of searching, Marguerite went home to her castle, into the backyard, where she found the boy under the tree, his neck broken. No wings had spread to take him away. Marguerite buried him in the garden of Jeanne's aunt, beneath the white plastic cows, and not another soul ever left the town from this day on, bound by the curse of a heartbroken witch.