Wychwood Fields

Fields near Wychwood, August 1614

The usual beauty of the landscape was further enhanced by the contrast between the golden fields of rye and dark graphite sky. One could hear the angry rumbling of the fast-approaching thunderstorm and see the serpent-like lightnings tearing the horizon. The whole view was so captivating that only a really observant onlooker would have spotted three feminine figures running across the fields. And only upon approaching them would he be able to notice the identical otherworldly faces framed by flame-red hair tumbling in ringlets upon their shoulders. If the said onlooker was a stranger, he would probably just gasp in admiration, overwhelmed by the women’s striking beauty. If he were empathetic enough, he would also feel a thrill of fear running down his spine. But that was all. Yet if the onlooker were a habitant of Wychwood village, he would flee in panic upon glimpsing the figures, as he would have realised who they were: the infamous witches of Wychwood.

What have they done to deserve such reputation no one would be able to tell. Perhaps it was the fact that even the gods are jealous, let alone simple villagers? So much beauty, intelligence and pride is always a dangerous combination.

  Especially if it is multiplied by three. And especially if the behaviour is difficult to understand. How could one explain the fact that the children dying of infections were suddenly cured by an aromatic mixture of herbs picked up by the Witches in the forest? Or, even more bizarrely, that the process of drinking the medication had to be accompanied by a soft chanting in the words the villagers could not understand? How could one comprehend that no one could resist the inviting smile and twinkle in the Witches’ eyes? Or that the Witches’ garden was always filled with flowers- proud roses, shy lilies of the valley, cheerful poppies and flirty violets, even when the harsh winter made it impossible for the flowers to bloom anywhere else?

Witches were strange. There was something too different and magical about them for the villagers to like them, yet they were too useful for them not to accept the fact that they had to coexist with them peacefully in Wychwood. No one, however, would calmly stay with them in the fields, especially if the Witching Hour was approaching. Some even believed that the Witches could control the thunders (Who else would have burnt down the oak which used to be a jewel of the village, standing in the centre and inviting the couples in love to exchange their vows underneath the umbrella of its leaves?), yet the more reasonable ones realised that that story might have been a little far-fetched.

All in all, no one in their right mind would want to be there in the fields near Wychwood in the company of the three Witches.

The said Witches were in fact ecstatic. They were running freely, enjoying the wind in their hair and listening to the sound of the approaching storm and the rustling of the leaves. They were laughing at the mere thought that someone might perceive them as danger. What they were about to do was far from being harmful.

One of them, having recently fallen in love with a handsome and fearless villager with greyish- brown eyes, decided that this cheerful moment should be commemorated. She convinced her two sisters to cast a spell upon the fields and the forest surrounding Wychwood.

The thunder, accompanied swiftly by a lightning made it impossible to hear the words the Witches whispered while casting the spell. Only the nearby birches heard them and giggled cheerfully already anticipating witnessing many beautiful moments.

Present Day

People do indeed find happiness near Wychwood. Once they arrive there they understand what Laurie Lee must have felt when he wrote ‘Cider With Rosie’. They simply get intoxicated by the beauty of Cotswolds.

And only the wooden nymphs inhabiting the enchanted woods laugh softly when they see them sitting on a tree that has been knocked over by a violent windstorm, engaged in serious conversations. For, although they do realise how powerful the spell cast by the Witches was, they know that the real magic lies in transcending conventions and believing that moments like this are what is worth living for.