The Baker and the Maid

Spring bloomed in the valley with candid splendor. The soft breeze flowing from the Harz mountains carried the aroma of sweet hydrangeas and bright chrysanthemums down to the village. In a synchronized dance, the sunflowers swayed, bending to kiss the bumblebees and butterflies while Brocken Peak stood striking like a sentinel watching over the region.

Walpurgis night marked the end of the cold season and at Bode Gorge the villagers prepared for the feast with enthusiasm.

"Good morning Aidan, I'm here for the wicker basket and the bread. It's time to arrange Beltane's offerings." The fair young maiden urged the baker in the kiosk. Hanging from the stray roof, baskets loaded with the delicious fresh bread and sweets clung. The exposed clay oven was burning and the dough rose for the heat. Nothing is better than the smell of fresh bread in the oven.

"Sure, my sweet Ailie. Ankenschnitt bread, fruits, and herbs are already placed in. Here, be careful, it's heavy." Beaming an amiable smile, perhaps more flirty than friendly, while he handed the basket to the girl. "Don't go yet, there's something else I want to give you." Aidan opened a leather satchel, his blue eyes glowed enthusiasm as he handed a yellow silky ribbon to Ailie.

"Oh, Aidan, this is so beautiful! I like the color of this ribbon. I can't wait to tie it to the pole! I know it will be the only one yellow! Thank you!" Standing on her toes, Ailie placed a kiss on the boy's cheek with childish tenderness.

"You're welcome... It... it's long enough to cut a piece to use as a hairdresser. It will look so pretty in a bow in your red hair tonight. You'll be the fairest of them all." Aidan's voice softened in the way he held the maiden's hand.

Carefully, the redhead placed the ribbon inside her bag. "Aidan please." She lowered her eyes avoiding the handsome baker's insisting gaze. "I better get going. There's still a lot to do in the village, you know, the post still needs to be placed and the pyre set for the bonfires... See you later... and thanks again, Aidan, for the basket and for the ribbon." Carrying the wicker basket in arms, the girl left the baker's kiosk.

Once in the village's courtyard, Ailie placed carefully the loaded basket on the floor by the stoned altar. She smiled with pride and confident that sacrifices and offerings would please Beltane and the goddess in return would favor the region with a bountiful harvest and a less harsh winter.

While conversing and singing, one by one, the maidens adorned a granite gothic cross with all kind of flowers, giving the sober grayish sculpture, a fresh coat of colors. A few steps away, the post had been set for the Morris Dance and each virgin tied her ribbon. Giggling, they chatted and practiced their moves, ready for the eve when the most gracious dancer would be elected May's Queen.

On its way down, the sun brushed the craggy peaks, painting the sky in shades of green, orange, and carmine. Soon, the first stars flickered above the mountain range, the polar star crowing with magnificence the Brocken Peak. Nature wisely marked the time when the Walpurgis would begin. With the pyres blazing, Spring was to be welcomed officially.

When the feast began, the maidens danced around the May post, each one holding a ribbon, in a symbolic act where the colors of spring, of flowers, of the river, the mountains and the sky, represented in the strings, connected them through the post, to Mother Earth. With grace, the virgins danced around the pole while all the single men gathered to watch them, hoping to find the ideal wife that night.

Looking charming in her ivory-colored long dress, Ailie smiled, her chin up, wearing with pride the yellow ribbon Aidan gave her, tied in a cute bow to the loose red curls. It was her first time partaking of the dance rituals, now that she was ten and six years old. The baker stood next to the water well, his blue eyes fixed to the redhead maiden. He smiled looking the way she seemed to enjoyed herself. Flapping the ruffles of her gown, sometimes revealing her long and slender legs, the young damsel moved. With traces of reds and yellows, her eyes gleamed reflecting the blazes in the burning fire. She moved with natural and innocent cadence, reacting to the rhythm of the music. Spell bounded by the way Ailie moved her hips under the translucency of her white dress, the young man smiled, contemplating the woman he loved.

After a while, the time to select the May Queen had come. The maidens filed in front of the post. With nervousness, all of them wishing to be chosen first, a guarantee of taking the best match. Staring at each other with an air of childish complicity, they snickered.

An old woman stood in front of the girls and spoke. "On behalf of Beltane and Saint Walpurga, the virgin chosen to be the May's Queen for this year is... Ailie, daughter of Waldorf!" The matriarch pointed to Ailie. With shaking hands she covered her mouth, gaping, incapable of hiding her joy and surprise.

A cheerful crowd celebrated the announcement. Still incredulous, Ailie took a step forward to be crowned May Queen of Bode Gorge's village. As accustomed, a group of young men formed a line in front of the chosen virgin. Disappointed, Aidan filed up too, a bit worried as he never expected to have so many contenders. Presents were given to the maiden and love promises were made. For the girl this was nothing new. She'd been in the rites before, she'd known them well, like every lass did, still heat was all over her face and her hands shivered sweaty and cold. Being a just a teenager, it impossible not to feel both flattered and honored and perhaps, a little impatient, knowing that she had to wait for the last of the men to speak... and she glanced now and then precisely to the last man on the line, Aidan.

Ten young men spoke, ten men she listened to with attentiveness and respect, but when it was the baker's turn, Ailie sat up straight and grinned, her hands placed on her lap trying to stop her knees from shaking the way they did. The handsome man stood in front of her, serene, his pose denoting confidence. "... You know I've loved you since we were children. You are the fairest of the woman in this world. To you, Ailie, I promise the moon and I'll place the stars in your hand if you choose me amongst these men to be your husband. I will love you like no other would ever do..." Words were recited in a soft cooing tone.

Ailie was never oblivious of the baker's feelings towards her, however, she was moved by the honesty and warmth of his words. Eleven men waited for her reply, but only one would be elected. It was an easy one for she'd known for a long time who's won her heart. Rites, dances and silver charms, everything was part of the traditions and the May Queen had to play her role. "Arise Aidan son of Goefferd, I choose you because I have loved you in the same way you love me, and yes, I want to be your wife."

Oaths were made and the villagers broke into cheers and clapping. Allie and Aidan embraced each other with tenderness and everyone congratulated the first couple to get married this year. Music soon played again and the festivities proceeded as accustomed.

"I feel a bit dizzy. I think it was the mead. Never tried it before." Ailie told Aidan, while walking home holding hands. Already in front of her cottage's door, the young man placed a gentle kiss on her fist and waited until she got inside. Then the baker walked back to where the feast was taking place.

When the damsel opened her eyes she wasn't home anymore. The world spun around her and everything was a dark blur. Nausea weighed in her throat and her mouth salivated, tasting like bile. Disoriented and uneasy, she tried to scream for help but she couldn't. Her voice never came out... her body wasn't responding either. It was the most horrid sensation ever to find out she'd been tied to a wooden post and her mouth covered with a drape.

Bending frontwards, she tried to ease the pain in her chest. Her heart throbbed arrhythmically, pulse beating so fast and loud it both choked and deafened her. Ailie took short and deep breaths, in hopes to dissipate nausea and make her head stop spinning. Trying to calm herself down, she scanned the place around. Amidst the dimness, all she could see was the dark silhouette of the birches and spruces in a clear of the woods. To her right, a pyre burned, but she knew it wasn't the same in the village, neither she was close to home whatsoever. There were no houses nearby, only the thick grim forest.

As her forehead stung and wooziness vanished little by little, Ailie understood she had been drugged, maybe something in the mead, but, by who? The answer instantly came and it was not the most promising one, given that she spotted a dozen women dancing naked around the fire, intoning chants in the tongue of the ancestors and caressing themselves and each other in the most indecent ways. Some of them kissed and others performed loathsome acts. "Witches!" She became aware of the danger she faced.

Holding a silver dagger above her head, one of the witches approached, all her nakedness exposed and moving in a sumptuous manner. "Beltane", she said, "take the life and blood of this virgin as a proof of our devotion and loyalty. This living sacrifice is our offering. We thank you for your blessing of eternal youth and the powers you've granted to us. I am Freida, priestess of the third tower and your humble servant, and to you is the first drop of blood in this blessed night of primilci-mōnap." The woman pinched her index finger with the sharp blade and a drop of carmine blood immediately came out to fall into the burning pyre. To the contact, the flames burst to make a thundering noise. Jerking back, the other sorceresses screeched and sneered.

Unable to do anything, Ailie shook with fright. She was going to be sacrificed to Beltane, the kind of sacrifice that was condemned, somehow forgotten by the people who believed those abominable acts had vanished under the Holy Inquisition heavy whip.

Wearing now burgundy velvety  robes, the witches sauntered towards the captive virgin, evil eyes glowing red. Ahead, the leader gripped the dagger menacingly. A tear rolled down the maiden's cheek. Closing her eyes, she prayed. There was nothing else she could do. It was better not to look... she didn't want to. Deep inside, the damsel only hoped it was only a bad dream, the worst of the nightmares, like those she used to have when she was a little girl after grandma told her stories of witches dancing naked under the moon after kidnapping children to eat. But this was not a bedtime story, it was real. Necromancers existed and they snatched innocent lives to perform their dark rituals.

Her eyes closed tightly and sobbed to the contact of the cold blade on her skin. It slid slowly to cut her ankle and blood made its way out. Allie tried in vain to move, to shake off the witch's hand off her leg, but it was tensely tied.

A cold stream of wind howled making her hair flutter. Beyond the dimness in the woods, a thousand flickering lights appeared in the dark forest hovering here and there. Fluorescent spheres in green, blue, yellow, and white, meandering beneath the tree stems and bushes, illuminating their path.

"She's coming! Beltane has come to receive her sacrifice! I knew this bitch would be the right one!" Freida spoke, her hands up in the air celebrating.

Ailie bawled her lungs out, eyes forced to open to the stinging pain of the blade digging deeper into her flesh. Blood dripped profusely down her right calf and with it, all trace of hopes she had. It hurt, still, she stopped crying. There was no use to. That night she would die as a living sacrifice to Beltane. She thought of her grieving father, and Aidan... how happy they would have been together, but now it was over. Happiness didn't come as it should, as it was supposed to after been crowned May Queen.

In front of her and swirling above the bonfire, altogether the spheres shaped into a sparkly curvy like silhouette. A head, Arms, breasts, hips and legs suddenly formed standing on the blazing pyre. The witches kneeled down, Freida held the golden chalice, half full with Ailie's blood.

Left to her own fate and condemned to a slow death, the girl weakened drop by drop. Arms and legs numbed and her eyelids fanned to close heavily. All around her vanished into a blur. The crackling flames and the witches' laughter, it all mixed in a distant murmur to her... voices, raging, approaching.

Less than a mile yonder, flickering torches floated amidst the blackness in the forest, every time closer. Fairies? Sprites? The humming grew into unintelligible cries, like a cry of battle. It was a multitude breaking into the woods, running towards the clear with spears, rakes, and axes. Some of them rode on horses and others hurried by foot. The people from the village had come, lead by Aidan, to rescue Ailie.

Fear, anger, and frustration drew on the sorceresses' faces as they were forced to escape into the woods, leaving the rites unfinished. One by one they scampered into the woods, darkness becoming their best ally. But the crowd scattered in all directions, horses' hooves pounded on the moistened floor and the voices of the rescuers echoed.

Already in the clear, with tearful eyes, Ailie's father untied her and brought her down from the post she was tied to. With gentleness, Aidan covered the feeble young lady with his cloak and wrapped a drape around her wounded ankle and calf. "Thank the gods I've found you alive, my love." Aidan whispered to the feeble lady, cradling her in arms.

Chants and cheers were heard. Triumphant, the brave villagers arrived after capturing the witches. Back at Bode Gorge, the bonfire still burned. Under a clearing sky, people gathered by the water well and the May Post, this time to watch a gruesome spectacle. Children, elders, women and men, all of them met by the pole where the colorful ribbons still hung. A dozen posts were placed and the heaps set. This year, on the first day of Spring, something else than pasture and goat skin would scorch in the blaze. Ironically, the goddess would end tasting human blood, witch's blood nonetheless.

Twitching and uttering blasphemies, the necromancers resisted to be attached to the poles. With a crackling noise, the pyres burned, consuming the dry twigs and hay. In dreadful agony, the sorceresses screeched and writhed in pain. Columns of gray smoke swirled up, the stench of scorching flesh was unbearable. Having the villagers at witnesses, in the first morning hours, all the witches were burned alive. All it was left was the carbonized skeletons of the sorceresses.

"It's over, my love." Placing a kiss on Ailie's forehead, Aidan wrapped his arms around her. "Let's go home now."

One by one, Bode Gorge's inhabitants returned to their cottages. Ever since bedtime stories had never been the same.

The End

*** This short story was originally written for the Nine Months Writing Challenge hosted by KarlOConnor . It was 1.5k words before. Now it's been refurbished and re-written to partake of ParanormalCommunity #ritesofspringstory story contest. 2.6k words on the dot.

The setting is in the 11th century in the region of Harz in ancient Saxony during the Walpurgis Night, festivity celebrated in honor of Saint Walpurga and to the Gaelic goddess Beltane. The narration includes some rites and actual names of items used in that celebration.