The night was stormy, with wind and rain. The waning moon came and went through the racing wrack of low clouds, giving little of its ghastly light to the scene.
Moss hung trees shuddered and waived in the wind, rain making a continuous splattering from bare branches and boles. It splattered off of the couple digging a hole in the sodden earth, not far from the crossroads. She wore a checkered scarf against the bitter chill of wind.
The pony with her shook his coat, sending a spray of water to join the gale swept sheets of rain. “Tell me again, Mam, why we are disturbing this grave? I mean, they put ponies in crossroads graves for a reason, usually.”
She nodded calmly and replied, “True enough. The Lord of Cragenmare has decreed crossroads burial for suicides and witches. This is the grave of a witch. I know, um, KNEW her and she was basically a good sort. She did not do curses or cause harm to any. She worked healings, assisted with plentiful crops and to the benefit of local herds and flocks.”
As he continued to heave clods of soil from the deepening hole, he demanded truculently, “If she did so much good, how did she wind up here, in a crossroads grave?”
She glared covertly at him as she shook the thick soil from her spade and replied, “Like many who followed her ways, she was a free spirited mare. She would not follow in any stallion’s herd, preferring to mate with whom she willed.”
Lifting out another spadeful, he grunted disdainfully, “A Whorse!”
Sharply, she retorted, “Nay! If she fancied a stallion, she let him have her with no cost or charge! That was not enough for some stallion who tried to make her his mare! When she refused him, he complained of her witchcraft to the Lord of Cragenmare!
“As she was being hanged, he taunted her that if he could not have her, she would have none! For the only time in her life, she pronounced upon him a curse!”
Angrily driving his spade into the wet clay, he snapped, “Twasn’t just him she cursed! All over Cragenmare, orchards and fields are suffering! Crops are poor. Ponies are suffering coughs and agues! Tell me that isn’t a curse!”
Smiling sadly, as her shovel scraped on the coffin below them, she replied, “You have made a most common error. You have confused the absence of a blessing for a curse. All that you say is true. It was her work that made all go so well. Now that she is slain out of jealousy, all suffer from the lack of her goodness and care. That is all.”
He frowned as he thought over what he was told. Together, they finished clearing the coffin’s lid. He stuck a shovel into the joint and pried the top from the coffin. While he was opening the coffin, she pulled the checkered scarf from her neck.
He looked up, confused. “Where is the body? This coffin is empty!”
Lightning flared, showing him the scar from the strangling noose that had ended her mortal life! She whipped the scarf about his neck and heaved it tight! No matter how he struggled, the scarf continued to choke him. Sight and vision fading, he heard, “Never fear, that coffin will not be empty for long!
“The next time that you betray a witch, be sure that she isn’t a real one!”