A tremendous burden for the Dark One, Mary thought, with so many depending on him for help. He forever lived in the darkness for others.
Glenda continued. “We do not know his true identity and that is fine with us. He keeps it that way for our own good, but if we did know there is not a one here who would betray him.”
The Dark One was truly loved here in this tiny remote village, and Mary thought it would not be a bad place to remain and offer her help. But she knew in her heart that was not possible. Decimus hunted her and he would not stop until he caught her. If she remained, the village would be in danger. And neither she nor Michael could let that happen.
Glenda stopped at a small cottage. A well-tended patch of budding flowers and a bright yellow sun painted on the wooden door welcomed visitors.
Glenda lowered her voice as they approached the closed door. “This is Agnes’s home. She has been here three months and continues to heal. She keeps much to herself and only allows me to visit and tend her since I was the one who cared for her when she was first brought here.”
Mary nodded and motioned that perhaps she should wait outside.
Glenda knocked. “Nay, I think it fate that you and Agnes meet.”
Mary wondered over her words as she followed behind Glenda and entered the cottage.
A small, thin woman with white hair, her back to them, stood by the fireplace warming her hands. “I want no visitors.”
Her voice was clear and sharp and her stance straight, no curve or hunch to her shoulders to add to her advanced years.
“I think you are expecting this visitor,” Glenda said to Mary’s surprise.
The woman turned and Mary was stunned by her lovely face and shocked by her blindness. It was not torture that had caused her blindness but an affliction at birth, for her eyes were creamy white.
“It is you,” Agnes said anxiously and hurried to Mary’s side, reaching out and grasping her hand.
Mary stared at Agnes wondering how a blind woman moved as easily as one with sight.
“I see without seeing,” Agnes answered as if hearing Mary’s thoughts.
Mary understood instantly. The woman was a seer; she predicted forthcoming events good or bad. And while seers were often sought and respected, the Church had different ideas and branded them cohorts of Satan. She had heard they suffered the most when tortured, for it was believed they needed to be banished of their evil ways and suffering, and death was the only way to be certain they were cleansed.
Yet this woman looked as though torture had not touched her. Had Michael rescued her before any suffering befell her?
“Leave us, Glenda, I must speak with Mary alone.”
“Mary cannot speak,” Glenda said as she walked to the door.
“I know,” Agnes said.
Mary nodded to let Glenda know she was fine.
“I will be at Brenda’s cottage two doors down,” Glenda said and closed the door behind her.
“Your mind is clear and aware of much, this is good.” Agnes said. “You wonder about me, particularly about the sun painted on my front door. You assumed I painted it when you first saw it. But now you wonder, How does a blind woman paint a sun on her door?”
Mary squeezed her hand to let her know she was accurate in all she assumed.
“Good, you speak without speaking as I see without seeing, which is the way I painted the sun on my door.”
Mary smiled, pleased and somewhat perplexed that conversation flowed so easily between a blind woman and a woman who could not speak.
“I feel your smile and it is as beautiful as you are, Mary. And it is long I have waited to meet you.”
Mary shook her head as she gently squeezed Agnes’s hand.
“I know how confusing this seems to you and how frustrating it must be to not be able to speak your mind, but trust me it is best for you at this moment. You are very special. You will succeed where others have failed, and in so doing you will save many lives.”
Agnes grasped Mary’s wrist tightly. “You must listen and remember. My imprisonment was brief, my freedom swift, all because I am to be here at this time, at this place to give you an important message.”
A shiver raced over Mary that warned and frightened, or was this premonition?
“Decimus is close. He wants you and will have you.”
Mary quaked at the insidious thought.
“You are his destiny, though he will bring you great sorrow.” Agnes placed a trembling hand on Mary’s shoulder. “But in the end it will be you who will be the demise of Decimus.”Chapter 6There is knowledge in silence, Mary’s father taught her. But presently she found silence to be a prison. After leaving Agnes’s cottage she entered the edge of the woods, making certain to keep the village in view but needing privacy to consider the old woman’s prediction.