It’s 1644.
Underground in the dark, dank, smelly squalor of Edinburgh’s cold old stone town dungeons, with barbaric, cruel, evil means, we go on trial.
They use many types of metal tools to try to make us talk. To speak our truths AND to speak out against them….fellow healers; fellow intuitives; fellow women and men and so called thieves.
There he stands before me – that wig wearing judge. On his pulpit, armed with wooden hammer, he speaks. His loud voice echoing around these dimly lit surroundings.
Peering down at me and my skinny ragged barefoot form. Shouting lies upon lies at me about my suspected misdemeanours.
None it is true. It’s all entirely fabricated. I try to gulp the dryness down in my throat.
It’s hopeless.
I’m doomed to the same fate as the rest of them.
An unspeakable torturous hot death.
He lifts his hammer high in the air and, as it comes crashing down on his wooden pulpit, he sentences me to death by means of burning at the stake on the Castle Esplanade, with plenty of space for onlookers; time and date to be confirmed…. For Witchcraft.
I feel a familiar flicker in the bowels of my belly. A reigniting of that old flame.
A knowing that I have been here before.
A remembering that this has happened. To me and many friends, over the centuries.
I stand there and, laughing, turn to my children and husband.
“This is real! This did happen!”, I tell them.
We turn and together walk through the wooden door, along the old stone floor and into the next room as our tour of the Edinburgh Dungeons continues.
Later that evening, I return to the Castle Esplanade, alone. Walking up the worn shiny stone steps, I think of the 300 plus witches that were burnt at the stake in Edinburgh’s Old Town all those centuries ago. And for the many more who were drowned in the Lake in the now beautiful Princes Street Gardens.
I stop at the Witches Well and take a photo – a plaque commemorates them.
Who were they? What were their names? What are their stories? Why had I not noticed this plaque before in all of my time living and working in this city? Was this their last view looking out over the castle esplanade and down the Royal Mile?
I stand and quietly pay my respects.
While the witch burnings have ceased, the witch wound remains.....So...
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Much Irish witchy love,
Eimear xxx
Photo: I took this photo of The Witches Well at the Castle Esplanade by Edinburgh Castle, UK