Name: The Witches of Vardo
ISBN: 9781786581914

Anya Bergman

They will have justice. They will show their power. They will not burn.

'Utterly Propulsive' - Kiran Millwood Hargrave, Author of the MERCIES

The Witches of Vardo

Emma Hak-Kovacs

It had been a long time since l had felt such deep chill in my bones as, for the past few years, a fire had always burned in my belly, keeping my extremities warm; some nightsI would awaken in my bedchamber in Bergen, the heat with in me overpowering, as if I were aflame.

My husband Doctor Ambrosius Rhodius is an esteemed individual as you well know. He is an academic and theologian, physician and schoolmaster at Bergen Latin Skole. But did you know all his titles I had acquired for him through my industry, knowledge and skill? Surely you must have surmised it was so, my king. And yet I was viewed a failure by all who knew Doctor Ambrosius Rhodius, because I was a wife with no offspring.

I had always felt safe in a library, as if the books were there to protect me, like a fortress of words, thoughts and learning.

The Dark Lord would hear her mother's laugh. Waiting with patience in the deep black, red eyes glinting with expectation.

'For I believe the only way to protect ourselves is to make them afraid of us.' 

‘Who are they?' Kirsten asked, wide eyed.

This is my battleground, my king. You send your men out to fight for our kingdom, with so many boys slain before they have more than a few chin hairs. But we women fight too, for our war is on the birthing bed. Your soldiers come into the world through their mothers' struggles, and we go into battle willingly because the rewards are great.

My father shared his knowledge with me for in his eyes I was neither boy nor girl, but his heritage, and he considered it his right and duty to educate me. In my father's cabinet of curiosities there was science, but magic and mystery too.

The violence within my own body felt as if a rebellion was upon me.

As I watched them, I mused upon how expendable women are in the world of kings, nay of men, all of us appendages: wives and mistresses, and those not even worth the mention.

I saw my father talking to a group of young nobles, and their glances towards me. My throat tightened with dread, for the idea of being married to a noble and leading a life of idle leisure was not appealing to me, let alone the dangers of childbirth. I desired to have purpose beyond the role designated to me as wife and mother. I wished to leave a mark upon this world, my king, and for my legacy to be more than offspring.

'Not me, I'm just a girl. There is nothing great that I can do,' Ingeborg said quietly trying not to think her life on this earth might end all too soon. 

‘That's not so,' Zare said, turning to her, the look in his eyes so intense she was transfixed by them. 'Sami revere the girl child as much as we do the boy.' 

Ingeborg was astounded by his words. Reverend Jacob- sen had always spoken of the Sami as savages and sorcerers. They were to be feared. Yet she'd never heard a boy or man - not even her own brother - speak as if girls and boys were the same. Even women did not believe this. Ingeborg could think of only one who held such an opinion.

I want to go back into the past, and yet my body is stuck in the present, pressed up against the suffering of the Varanger women so that the swifts' screams become their torment.

I dared not think of the ordeals the old woman had been put through by Lockhert to persuade her to confess, and it was clear her absence was proof she remained adamant of her Own, and the other women's, godliness. I was in awe of her endurance. People might say it was the Devil who gave her strength, but I believe it was her honour. Whether she was guilty or not of witchcraft, the old crone believed in her own innocence, and that of her fellow accused.

There will always be loss and suffering in this world, but this time it would not be mine.

"I summon the rain in the name of the spirits of the sky and the sea. I summon the hail in the name of the great blue whale, she who sings for our redemption from the depths of the seas. I summon the storm in the name of the clouds to assault all men who would harm us."

‘Are you coming?' Ingeborg called to her. 

But Maren shook her head. ‘I have other plans.’

She was a wild, strange girl. Everyone knew she was a witch, the daughter of Liren Sand, the most fearsome witch there had ever been. But what Ingeborg saw in Maren was not a hint of wickedness. She saw so much more. Empathy, deep knowing, and resilience. And, yes, she possessed the power she had spoken of so many times.

Her endurance was the wind calling through the long summer grass; her crying the call of a seagull. Her sorrow the howl of the wolf. Her nurture the lick of a mother reindeer's tongue. Her courage the sweep of the eagle's wings. Her laughter the crackle of the turf fire. Her life as a leaping salmon from an inland fjord; its flight, its flick of silver, its splash away.

But the witch never dies because she lives in you, and she lives in me. If ever you forget, close your eyes and you will see her magnificent lynx running for all eternity, spattered with witch's blood.

'You gave to the Devil what you wouldn't give to me,’ her master accused the witch. 

‘You had my body, my loyalty, and my whole life in your hands,' the witch whispered back, a heap of pain upon the castle flagstones. 

‘But you have never given me your consent,' the master said, in fury.

Eleanor 

The 17th century is not a historical period I am drawn to, so this book is not something I would usually read. However, I did enjoy it more than expected.

The first few chapters were slow and not enticing but luckily it did pick up, especially when the two pov’s merged. 

The intent of the book is clearly to demonstrate the injustices faced by women during the witch hunts, and while it does achieve that, all the characters are unlikeable bar zare. You initially feel empathy for Anna, for example, but her pov gradually becomes slightly tedious; thus, while I understand the purpose, it can be a little frustrating at times. Furthermore, I think the ending was slightly rushed and somewhat left questions unanswered - it fell flat for me and I just didn’t connect to the characters to the extent that I thought I would. 

I received this book as part of a ‘blind date with a book’ which was advertised as a witchy fantasy. This was slightly misleading as it was a depressing depiction of historical reality not escapism. 😭

Overall, the book highlights the harrowing injustices inflicted by the patriarchy and systemic misogyny, while emphasising the significant influence of religion in this period. The small bibliography at the end was also insightful. 

3.75 ⭐️

The Witches of Vardo

Reviews

Highlights