Chapter 30 Corabeth
Thirty
Corabeth
Corabeth expected to see some change in the village now that their Elder had been removed. Now that the Fabels had been purified from its system. But life went on. People still went to work, raised their children, gossiped, laughed.
It took nearly two months until armed men stopped patrolling the main street. Until they realized that the wave of misfortune only touched the Fabels. That, perhaps, they were safe after all.
Corabeth sat in the Marshal’s office and watched as the night retreated. Outside, some first workers passed the house, hushed conversations carrying through the silence.
Soon, spring will be upon them.
Another hour passed before heavy boots walked up to the Marshal’s office. Keys jangled on the other side of the door. Then silence. Confusion.
Had the door not been locked?
The Marshal walked in, his heavy coat unbuttoned in the front, and halted at the door when he saw a female figure sitting in his chair.
“Hello, Marshal,” Corabeth said.
The Marshal launched to the side, hands grabbing at emptiness where just a few hours before, a rifle sat. Corabeth, of course, had already gathered all the guns, wrapped them in a shawl, and stashed them away behind a cupboard. They weren’t gone forever. Just gone for now.
“I just want to talk,” Corabeth said, “I come to you with a proposition.”
Torches burned all around the raised wooden platform of the pillory. Some steps away, a crowd had gathered. And between the two, a line of a dozen men meant to keep the peace.
Corabeth watched from the shadows, heart thumping in her chest. It was a terrible risk, being there, but steps needed to be taken to mend things with the village. To make life better for everyone.
They had no reason to trust each other. Not after what the village had done to Corabeth and her mother. Not after what Corabeth had done to the Fabels. But things could not just be left to fester.
“Why are we here?” called someone from the crowd that had grown restless.
The Marshal shifted uncomfortably on the platform and looked back into the shadows where Corabeth stood. Then he gave her a small nod.
“We’re here to hear out Corabeth Arlay,” the Marshal called, his voice carrying over the murmuring crowd.
When Corabeth stepped onto the platform and into the light, the crowd erupted. Angry shouts and cries filled the night. The dozen men struggled to keep back the pushing people, and even they were giving each other wary looks.
The Marshal banged the heel of the rifle against the wood, pulling the crowd’s attention to himself. “Quiet!” he shouted, “And calm yourselves. We will hear her out. And we will not resort to violence.” At this, he gave Corabeth a pointed look.
The Marshal had not been happy seeing Corabeth. Even less so hearing what she had to say, but he could not deny the truth of her words, that what she was about to propose, would be a step in the right direction.
Corabeth took a breath and clasped her hands in front of her to keep them from shaking. “An evil has been rooted out from your village,” she began.
A new wave of enraged bellowing. The crowd pushed forward.
“What evil? The Fabels were good men!” shouted Clarence, the treasurer of the village who had been particularly close with Hyram.
Corabeth found him in the crowd and narrowed her eyes at him. Were they all truly so blind or simply complacent?
“Ask the women of your village,” she spat. “The ones you fail to protect! How many girls and women have been violated by the Fabels?”
Corabeth felt satisfaction for a brief moment as the villagers quietened, taken aback by her accusations. Then the men looked around, confusion marring their expressions. Blind after all.
But Corabeth noticed how many of the women’s backs had gone rigid. How many of them cast their eyes, avoiding eye contact with anyone. Even one was too many.
Susanna, Corabeth noted, had not turned up at all. Whether the Marshal had told her to stay away or she simply didn’t bother to come, Corabeth didn’t know. Didn’t care.
“If they choose to, they will tell you their stories,” Corabeth continued, “But know this—the curse will die with the Fabels. The Beast has sent me with a proposal.”
She paused for a moment, expecting another wave of angry insults, but none came. The revelation had taken the furious wind out of their sails.
“You will get back your woods,” Corabeth said, “Forage, hunt, get firewood—the Beast will not hunt you down. And in thirty-three years, when a new Night of the Beast is upon you, your children and your grandchildren will not have to fear. He will not set foot into your village. In exchange, bring an animal into the woods once a month and leave it there for the Beast.”
“Once a month? That’s twelve animals a year!” someone cried.
Corabeth knew they were not a wealthy village. Centuries of isolation had left their mark. No new roads could be built, no shortcuts could be taken to nearby settlements. But that would change, should they accept.
“Having access to the forest opens up new possibilities to you, new trade routes. Start your own pig and goat farms,” she said. And to her surprise, she heard some murmurs of approval from the crowd.
“I will give you a week to decide and discuss it amongst yourselves. Should you accept, leave an animal tied up to a tree on the seventh day. If not… nothing changes. You will have to look over your shoulder every time you get too close to the woods. And you will have to teach your children how to survive the Night of the Beast.”
She let the words linger as the villagers looked around amongst themselves. Some were shaking their heads in disapproval, unable to look past the events of the past. But she didn’t need to win over all of them. Only most of them.
“Women,” she continued, shifting her tone, “If there is another man in this village who harms you, come find me. Give me their name. You will not be harmed."
Then, she turned her narrowed gaze on the males in the crowd. “Men,” she said, her voice taking on a dangerous note, “If I hear that any one of you has lifted a finger against a woman in this village, you will be hunted. You will be safe nowhere.”
She would not let another man take the place of the Fabels.
Corabeth turned and stepped off the platform. She forced her steps to remain steady as she walked back towards the woods. In reality, she wanted to run. The crowd at her back still felt dangerous, although they were no longer shouting or pushing. But the mists were where she felt safest.
On the seventh day after the meeting, Corabeth and Rooke found a bleating goat tied to a tree.