Weyward

by Emilia Hart

Weyward is used in the First Folio edition of Macbeth. In later versions, Weyward was replaced by Weird.

It was a spider, its legs and pincers blue with moonlight. My new friend crawled into the hollow between my neck and shoulder, clinging to my hair. I thanked it for its presence, which did more to lift my spirit than even the bread and water.

But her menstrual blood flowed from her body with its own rhythm, one that he didn’t care for and couldn’t control. He hated the feel of it, slimy and fibrous. The smell. Like an animal, he said. Or something dead. So, Kate had one week a month when her body was her own.

The physician spoke with confidence. He was a man, after all. He had no reason to think he would not be believed.

What did they know of souls, these men who sat on bolsters all day, clothed in finery, and saw fit to condemn a woman to death?

Witch. The word slithers from the mouth like a serpent, drips from the tongue as thick and black as tar. We never thought of ourselves as witches, my mother and I. For this was a word invented by men, a word that brings power to those who speak it, not those it describes. A word that builds gallows and pyres, turns breathing women into corpses.

it was Elizabeth’s marriage to Rupert that had earned her a place in the record books. A relationship with a man.

Perhaps something has survived, in the dark, hidden places where men dare not look.