EXTRACT FOR
Temple Slaves
(Fiaine Cluiun)

"Thank you, I didn't know who else to turn to," the woman clutched at Julia's hands. Lines marked her face and deep shadows gave the impression of lack of sleep combined with worry and being overwhelmed. "I can't do this anymore."

Nothing she hadn't seen before in the women who came asking for her help. 

"Tell me, how can I help?" She smoothed one hand over the wrinkled, damaged hands of the desperate woman. Working on farms, even small ones, left tell-tale marks on a woman. Men had their own scars, but those she'd seen had been from battles, or drinking too much when their wives continued to labor in the fields. There were always excuses as to why the men deserved rest and the women didn't. Lies she'd grown sick of hearing. "You're from two villages over, aren't you?" 

"They told me, I mean, one of the younger women. She saw how tired I was. Heard his displeasure about how I'm not - not doing what he wants." She nodded. The brown homespun did little to flatter the trembling, exhausted female. She didn't have to explain that the problems were with her lack of interest in sex. How could a man expect her to be capable of working a full day in the fields, tend to the children, the home, and then be excited in bed? It made no sense to her, but then again, she wasn't married, nor did she have any plans of taking a husband until she was left with no other choice. "I had to sneak out when he was away, to market, you understand? So he wouldn't ask me what I was going to do."

Which meant this had to do with one of the herbal blends she took care never to have laying around where others could easily see them. Bad enough she dealt with the constant threat of inspections from the priests, or those who would trade information for favors. Either group offered the risk of being caught, reported, or simply handed over to the priests for punishment. All in the name of saving her soul-if the priests were to be believed. 

"I believe so. Are you?" Julia gestured to the other woman's lower belly. Beneath the homespun dress and heavy canvas apron the woman wore, it was hard to tell if new life had taken root. It wouldn't be the first time a woman had come to her with a life she couldn't afford to bring into the world.

Either because her man wouldn't help her, or expected the impossible from her, or the last birth had almost killed her. All of which were daily occurrences among women in the nearby villages.

"No, oh, by the Hosts no. I'd never - I couldn't do that. The priests would-I mean. I came for?" The woman took a step back and pressed her fingertips to her mouth, shaking her head. "I want - I need to find a way to prevent?" her words trailed off as she gestured with her free hand to the same area Julia had already indicated. "I'm failing him, being this tired all the time."

Julia offered what she hoped would be a warm smile. Preventing life from taking root was easier than the other option. "I can help, but you'll need to keep the tea where he's unlikely to reach for it. Not that it would harm him, but I doubt he'd find the taste pleasing." At most the man might find himself visiting the privy more often than normal, but she didn't deal in poisons no matter what the priests or others of their ilk might believe.

"Oh, no fear of that, lady. He's not fixed more than a mug of small beer since we first wed." Relief washed over the woman's face. "Thank you, may the Hosts bless you for all you do."

Julia hadn't asked for the woman's name as it was one less thing she might reveal if put to questioning. A fate she would wish on no one, not even any who might seek to betray her into their hands. Even a mention of the Hosts, and their blessings, was enough to turn her stomach, but she did the only thing she could and accepted the other woman's words without protest. 

"Sit, rest a spell, it will take me a few to gather what's needed, and place them in tea bundles." Anyone who was a regular for the tea knew how much to take, but for someone she'd never helped before it was best to prepare the separate balls. "Each one can be used twice and still retain enough to keep seed from taking hold, but only if you take the tea daily. Around the same time each day is best." She glanced back at the other woman as she worked, bringing down several wooden jars with their tight lids. Like everything she picked, dried, or treated, each herb, dried flower, root, seed or leaf had uses a priest shouldn't be able to find easy fault with. 

Some for cooking, others for blending into salves to help heal burns, soothe skin, or fight off infection. There were ones she used to create sweet smells to hang among clothing, bedding, or to toss onto fires to produce a sweet-smelling smoke. 

Nothing that might, on its own, be enough to condemn her. 

"The others, in the village, told me one like you might be able to help. It's not that I'm defying the teachings, it's just that if I have another so soon, there'll be no one left to see to the crops, or animals, and I'm barely left with time enough to spin or weave, and never enough to make extras." She touched her upper left arm, hidden beneath the cloth and winced. "I don't want him to cast me off, see. Or think he needs to bring in another." She ducked her head. "There's been a few that have caught his eye."

It was a story she'd heard a hundred times. The wince told the rest of the tale. Already the woman's husband was displeased with the reduction in his wife's work. "If the Hosts didn't want you to serve your husband as a good help mate, keeping home, hearth and farm going, then they wouldn't have given any the knowledge to blend such teas as this." She kept her voice gentle, soft, and careful not to let the words carry beyond the walls. Nothing she'd said could be traced directly to a tea to prevent new life. She could have been blending a tonic to aid the woman in her day to day life, for all anyone else might know.

"Yes, yes, of course. And I'll be able to work harder, once your?"

"Tea."

"Yes, the tea helps to?"

"Revive you." Julia counted the small tea balls, each one a mixture of herbs and ground roots bound within a thin muslin. "Perhaps taken in the morning would be best, to allow you to begin your day? Every day, mind." She gathered the fourteen balls together and tied them into a larger square of cloth, forming a small pouch. "Remember, no more than twice with each ball. After that you'll lose the taste and the tea its strength. You could empty the leavings on your herb garden if you have one. If not, they'd mix fine with any scraps you set aside to dig into the earth after harvest comes." 

"Yes, of course, thank you." The other woman bowed over the bundle as Julia handed it over. "How can I ever repay you?" 

"Payment isn't needed, but gifts are always welcome." She pressed the woman's hands over the cloth. "I'm no priest to demand silver. Just a simple hedge healer and maker of teas." 

There wasn't much the woman could offer, but Julia hadn't expected more than a small offering, so accepted the dried apples from the previous year's harvest with the grace that her own mother had drummed into her through the years. No one expected a woman of her status to be rich, and she had little need or desire to rise in the ranks. Any attempt to climb higher in society would only lead to pain and a greater risk of drawing the attention of the priesthood.

Most days she was left in peace with the occasional visit from women such as the one who even now hurried home, other days she had men who came to her to impose their will, demand herbs, teas, and other items from her, but they always left her in peace when their business was done. 

None had come to take from her, to use her as if she were a bondmaid, but in time there would be one who sought to claim her as theirs. Marriage, be it recognized by the priests, or the common union recognized only by those around you, was inevitable for women. The idea of a woman succeeding or even managing without the protection and guidance of a man was unimaginable to many.

Including those in the nearby villages.

One of the many reasons she'd remained in her mother's home, where the lack of a male presence could be overlooked by those brief visits from the needy. 

Julia watched as the woman vanished through the trees, taking the narrow path Julia took care of when time allowed. Never permitting it to completely overgrow, knowing it was one of the few ways others could find her. But a path that was kept clear only allowed for others to find her when she knew how dangerous it would be. 

A mistake her mother had drummed into her to never make, not when she understood far better than her daughter the risks that waited for them beyond the trees. She'd repeated the lesson every time the two women had worked on gently pruning the pathway, keeping it narrow and winding, more in keeping with an animal trail than an actual planned track through the trees. Nothing a human being might have made, only taken advantage of.

With the sun past its zenith, she had only a few hours of workable daylight before the shadows grew too long, casting fingers of darkness through the protected glade. Her small gardens were scattered through the area, with only a simple vegetable and herb patch close to the small cottage. Those other patches she, and the women before her, had cultivated were well hidden, hard for anyone who didn't know exactly what they were looking for, to locate. 

Birds sang, then fell quiet as she made her way through the trees to one of the other gardens. Little more than a strip hidden in the center of a grove formed by ancient trees and brambles. Few would dare to try and push their way through the thorns, but it didn't prevent her from checking for signs of unwanted visitors. 

She paused at a growth of dandelions, burdock, nettles and clover, gathering some of the fresh leaves, flowers and a single root. Laying them in the tightly woven basket she'd collected before leaving her home. Just as she never left without a leather sack on her hip, a digging stick, or her small pruning knife. She needed all of them if she was to work when she was out away from the protective stone walls of her home.

How many women had called this place theirs, she didn't know, not for certain. Her mother, and grandmother, those she knew from her mother's stories, and the few pieces of parchment or scraped hide they'd used to take notes, but even those were in a code, or phrased in ways others wouldn't find offensive, just in case they were discovered.

A twig snapped behind her.

A branch moved.

A single bird called out a shrill warning.

Julia stiffened, then turned, moving with care, searching for the source of danger.

She wasn't alone.

Another bird joined in with its own alert.

She swallowed down her fear, refusing to give in to the urge to run. If she ran now, whoever was there wouldn't need any more proof of her guilt. For all she knew they were nothing but hunters, or men from the estate out planning a hunt for their new lord. If they were hunting beasts then they'd do nothing more than tease, offer an empty threat or two, perhaps urge her to run so they could enjoy a chase. It didn't matter, she wasn't going to give them a reason to chase her. Not when such a thing would result in her being dragged to the castle in chains.

Questions.

The priests.

There'd be a dozen things she'd have to answer for, most of them unimportant, nothing more than an excuse to keep her at the castle where she wouldn't be allowed to return home.

Not that night or any night to come.

"You there, hold! In the name of the Celestial Hosts, stand."