Oh, the visions I beheld when my eyes opened. What reverie is this? What deliverance from the darkness? The colors, the hues, the light reflecting off the foliage and bows that hung from the rafters of the cottage. My eyes marveled at the diversity all around, and at the caked dirt covering the floor that I awoke to. What a wonderful new world this was, now that my eyesight had returned.

I leaned up from the goat skin rug and searched for the old woman that had placed the healing balm over my eyes, at least to express my sincerest gratitude but she was nowhere to be seen. The cottage was not what I expected, grimier than even the hovel where I lived with my mother. Or at least how I had pictured it. My first sight was still a splendid one however, filled with glorious revery for the things I had never seen. I stood over the circle that had been drawn on the floor, surrounded by burned out candles. To my left was a room, dark and cold. Therein lay a woman with a blanket over her frame. She looked to be sleeping but her body was unmoving. The door to the cottage was wide open and as I approached the forest outside it drove me to speechlessness. I couldn’t imagine the trees could be so high and so mighty, reaching to the heavens and swaying in the wind.

“Young girl, you shouldn’t be up.” Said a gravelly voice, pitched with feminine qualities. “Your mother…”

I froze when I saw the old woman. She had so many wrinkles and was dressed in nothing but a shawl. Her footsteps were soon followed by the footsteps of metal clanking.

“Stop. Stand aside. This young lady was promised to the Duchess of Norwich.” A man in an iron suit had approached from over the hill. Around him were two of the same, their heralds and armor were brighter than the sun. He waved at the old woman, who had a dreadful appearance about her.

A crow cawed as if in preservation of the woman’s stalwart stature. “Isabelle, go inside at once. The balm over your eyes may need more time.”

I did as was instructed of me but was followed by the men. They looked around the cabin and spotted the bed in the other room. The man at the fore signaled the others to check the room by nodding, “You are Isabelle? Tell us how you came so far into the wood and to such a place of sorcery. Do you not know who this woman is?”

The man was tall and foreboding with his chest out high. I could barely make a reproach, “I can see. I was born blind and now I see. This woman hath cured me.”

The lord looked away, not in the least impressed, “This woman is a sinful charlatan. Young lady, you must come with us to Castle Norwich. The Duchess awaits you presently.”

My eyes started to burn. I squeezed them shut and saw phantom shapes dance across my vision. I resisted the urge to rub them and blinked hard. Before I could protest one of them men whispered to the lead knight with downtrodden eyes, gesturing back towards the other room.

The other knight had lifted the sheet from the woman’s body and her eyes and mouth were wide open. She must have been in a deep sleep.

“We must depart. This bleak hovel is no place for such a young child.” Said the knight grabbing me by the arm and dragging me out.

It took several hours of riding in a carriage before we arrived at the castle. All the while I admired the glorious sea of trees and flowers; the cascade of brooks, rivers, and playful creatures was a splendid spectacle. Oh, how the ancient spirits of nature spread forth for miles in every direction. The hard edges of the castle appeared through the forest opening, I was filled with glee at its appearance, even though the rough stone was harsher on the eyes.

As we passed the gates, into the courtyard, there was so many people! They went hither to the market place in their weathered garb with the armored men guarding the main keep. I was taken through the huge doorway that might have been ten men high and into the large entry chamber. A woman was there, ordering her servants around like beasts of burden, whipping them with unfavorable tones. She stood by the gray staircase. “Do I have to do everything myself?” She was saying, yet the others were carting pales and carpet materials around without her help at all.

“Who is this then?” She said seeing myself standing there, waiting quietly.

“This is Isabelle. She was promised to you by a local peasant woman, in favor of her protection in the court.”

“Ah, the missing servant girl. We can make use of you with haste. These domestics have been wanting. Tell me, girl, have you ever seen a court in action?”

“Nay,” I said shyly.

“Fine, just fine.” The Duchess beckoned the attendants and knights who slowly gathered around. “You’ll learn soon enough.”

There was a blind expectation to the Duchess in how she greeted me in my frail, confused state. She motioned for me to stand next to her and I bowed my head as I complied. I was already following her orders, suffering low with a fealty to her, a large, gowned stranger, forgetful of my own filial piety.

“This is Isabelle. She will be attending to the lesser servants until she comes of age, where she will learn to be a midwife. I expect you to care for her as if she was your own.” As she spoke a small crowd was gathering, the villagers without become entreated within. From their tunics to their gowns and bodices they looked quite ordinary, except for the one who stood behind the door. As the visitors filed in a lone figure remained behind, a hand crept from the entrance’s edge. The Duchess continued her speech but I had been so disturbed by the dark robe standing there that I became entranced.

“Handmaid, take her away at once. Show her the quarters in the cellar.” The Duchess commanded and I was taken by the arm. The figure continued to steal my glances. It watched me as I went out of sight, into the corridors where I was led on a tour. The ladies were kinder than the Dutch but more sapped of energy and vigor.

After I was shown the kitchen, the dressing rooms, the parlor, and the servants’ quarters, which were all so wonderful to look at, the maidens were eager to tell me to stay quiet and out of the way of the Dutch. Finding it all so hard to take, with the sudden changes and commotion, I asked to take a sup from the water bowl which they permitted. When I leaned over the reflective bowl, I saw inside a woman standing just behind me, in long ragged hair and a horrid complexion. I quickly snapped up, my heart agasp, and turned. The wretched visage was gone. Turning back, I still saw her there, mirrored in the pool, in the same spot in my eyes. I blinked and blinked until the horrors of those eyes staring back dissipated in the ripples. A sighed escaped my lips when she was gone.

The castle walls were devoid of the fresh green that was the glorious wood outside, draining my spirits and slowing time to a miserable crawl. The cellar quarters were just as empty and cold, worsened by the shadows around every corner and crevice. The room would likely become my prison. I started to wish I never had recovered my sight, coping with this drab dreariness as if in mourning.

As day passed to night I couldn’t sleep. The echo of the emptiness when the maidens left had become too much. I rose from my bed of hay and walked the corridors of the cellar, exploring the walls with my fingers. A soft hum came from my throat, a song that my mother taught me, dispelling the gloom. But it didn’t last long. Through one hallway, dripping with moisture, I saw a figure, hooded with long hair. It stole my breath, suffocating me with heavy heartbeats. Not wanting to see anymore I reeled around to another hallway and the decrepit woman was standing at the end there as well. Running back to my bed I threw up the blankets and tightly shut my eyes. I couldn’t get the vision of her out of my eyes. She had a haunting visage about her, being taught by mother that only witches and the impoverished dressed in such a fashion. Darkness surrounded me but even with my eyes closed I still saw her before me, peeking out from the darkness, staring, reaching with long spindly fingers. She wouldn’t go away. I screamed and moaned while tossing to and fro. It became evident that this castle was haunted. I rolled out of bed and took haste down the corridor. The frightful image was still in my eye. I ran and ran, blindly twisting around the corners. My eyes burned and ached, twitching with strange agitation. I knew that if I looked behind, she would be there, following in the dark.

The handmaidens had mentioned the castle was built over a cave system, which in my panic-stricken mind must’ve had a way outside, a means of escape. I searched down ever pathway with bated breath, shaking my head when the witch appeared in the distance. As my feet tired, I found a pipe that would be the castle’s underground waterway. The murky black water came up to my stomach and the witch glowered back in the reflection, looking at me with hideous appeal. Several times I did slap my head, wishing for the phantom to vanish. The jarring shocks gave me temporary respite when I came to the entrance to the cave system.

Through the waterway’s edge I could see the light of dawn coming from a rocky opening. The witch was nowhere to be seen as I reached the opening and bathed in the early sun’s glow. I had survived, I was free, and the witch would return to haunt the halls of the castle. Drenched in salt water I came to the shore and made my way up over the rocks to a field of posies, where I laid and rested.

When I woke the sun was high in the sky and I remains ensconced in the flowers and the thoughts of the poor phantom. Back in the castle she was likely finding a new host to torment. But I soon found out, when I turned to face the blowing meadow, that the witch was still there, tethered to my soul. She stood a few yards away at the top of the hill, arms stretching out…reaching, gazing. Why was I cursed? Why did she beckon thusly…with warmness?

In the light of the day I saw her more clearly than I saw my own obliviousness. She was familiar in her long shawl, a dust of gray but bluer in the sun. Grief choked my speech, I searched endlessly for the right word but only found “desolation” and “isolated.”

Oh, happy ignorance, how I abhor you, how foolish and forgetful I was to the giver of the gift of birth, that I could lose sight of my own mother. She had always been there since I was reborn with sight, keeping me company, making sure I laid witness to her visage, even though she had passed from this world.

I knew now what I had to do and with what emotion. I would to the cottage of the old healer and bury my mother. But I would not go in fear or in miserable solitude. She would be by my side until the end, until my journey of mourning was complete and both she and I could rest with perfect clarity.