Heretic

Just before dawn, Mary Magdalene awoke with a start.  She sat up quickly and reached for her shawl.  She tried to shake her dream out of her vision as she wrapped herself in red wool.  She lit the candle on the bedside table and stared for a moment at the clay tablet that lie next to the candlestick.  She read the words in disbelief.

Her reverie was broken by a loud rap at the door. 

“Mary Magdalene!”  The voice on the other side of the door commanded.  “Come out here immediately!”

Instinctively, she put the tablet underneath the bedding.  “One moment,” she said firmly.

In a moment, she was out in the hall with the cell door closed behind her. 

“Yes?”

“The Elders want to see you.  They have some questions for you.”  The Guard spat out the words as if they were rancid.

He grabbed her and turned her around with such force she lost her breath.  He put the shackles on and whipped her back around to face him.  His dark eyes flickered as he looked her over.

“A witch like you needs containing,” he said huskily.

She inhaled deeply as she kept The Guard’s eyes in her gaze. 

“One day you will need me,” she spoke slowly, her tone even.  “And when you do, I pray I am more gracious.” 

The malevolence in The Guard’s laugh made her shudder as he dragged her down the hallway.