THE LAST WITCH OF THE BOGOMIL TRIBE
As science progressed, everything occult and vague has been revealed. The witches were eliminated inland, slowly they are extinct, disappeared from history.
Brijeg forest in sight. According to the oral history of the tribe, Bogomil is where the witches residing. Legends and myths as if calling me to get there. There is a detour to get to Sarajevo, but call me beat the fear that has been instilled by the ancestors.
I got out of the carriage. “Goran, give me a horse. We will pass through this forest!” I’m not used to riding a horse. It will even cause a rash on the thighs. But this time it was not a problem.
“Sir if not better we passed the usual way. This forest is a witch’s nest.” Goran proposal, which was approved by the guards looked the other.
I smile. “The trip from Istanbul was very tiring. There is nothing wrong, we cut off the road. Anyway is there among you who has ever seen a witch? Let’s go forward!!!”
Reluctantly they follow. Entering the Brijeg Forest may rest with the earth. The delegation walked slowly to avoid offending trees that grew close. The half-day trip, nothing special until we arrived at the field that is not as great extent. An old village which seemingly had been abandoned by its inhabitants. Could this was once the village witches? Fear and curiosity mingled in the minds of us all.
Dark days ahead so that we see the distance incandescent fire in a house. Nedzad suggested that we all go. But the call of my heart is getting stronger. “Goran, Nedzad, Ceric took me there! While others stay here to prepare a base. We spend the night here!”I spur my horse right into the house.
Just like the other houses, this house is unkempt. The walls are made of hardened muddy ground with wooden branches as the roof.
“Please come in Lord Milovan!” A voice called out, strange as it sounds to recognize my name. We entered quietly. There was silence, who would have expected someone who lived in a hidden forest know who the guests. Predictably he was one of those magicians who became a legend in the oral tradition of our tribe.
An old lady in black robes, sitting at the table while holding a crystal ball glowing red patterned red wood grain. His face was pockmarked like the people affected by leprosy, he smiled at us, his teeth had dated some really creepy.
“Why be surprised to see me, if you had just returned from Istanbul, a different world? While I was part of your people, Lord White Milovan?” We stopped, obviously the witch tells her identity.
“You’ve opted into Turkey and leaving the pagan belief. Whereas in the rest of Europe only a tribe of us who still worship the God and the Goddess.” The words seemed sad. And we are ready to accept anger from him. The witch is the link between the world and the gods in ancient culture Bogomil tribe.
Our foursome was still standing. “I have to choose. Austria in the North, our rivals Slavic tribes allied with Russia, while others have succumbed to Rome. Only we were still pagan, and now is the golden era of Ottoman.” I argued.
“Lord Milovan!” She stared, pointing to me. “Ottoman Period will end soon. And one day our people will be left alone.” She voice sad. “But I will not be here to see. Because I, Sonja daughter of Illiya will die soon. Bringing this tradition is lost forever. “
A witch can not cry, that’s his destiny but he was seen sobbing. Found herself alone and betrayed. Chin jutting out and the greenish face looks very sad. “And you!” She pointed to my face. “Since the departure declares surrender to the Caliph in Istanbul, I’d curse you!” Somehow I do not get angry with her, maybe I pity her.
She paused for a moment waiting for an answer, but we just stay quiet. He laughed. “I curse the ancient curse using my own blood, you Lord Milovan! Will find your name is lost to history, and will not be recorded or remembered by anyone! And your tribe! Will be the most different, the most bizarre in the history of mankind! And will experience the abomination that you have never imagined!” Even before he was condemned, we Bogomils were the most different across Europe.
Still, she had cursed me, my people, which are also his people. Finally, he poked his head as if waiting to be beheaded, “are you waiting for? Is not religion the Turks think of me as evil and should be killed! “
“Old woman,” I sighed. “They are also taught to forgive, and love,” I said. He laughs, terrible as the laughter of crows. “You hypocrite !! Are not you, Lord Milovan expect forgiveness from me? A frail elderly woman and you were left alone in the world? “
That’s not really, but somehow we all nodded. Sorry for the last witch of the tribe Bogomil. “We apologize for disturbing the mother, it is a time we returned. The return trip to Sarajevo was still very far away.” We ask ourselves.
“Have you gone! Go away and leave me alone!” She raved with Bogomil ancient language that had we not understand anymore. “But I’ll give you an exception, as the latter devotion the memory of your ancestors.”
He intends to hold us, but stay here longer will add to the pain, we. “But today’s events will be recorded in your name, and you will live happily until the end of life. And our people will be the most beautiful in the history of mankind.” Her voice trailed off and lost in sobs.
We exited the house, we mutually pledge to not going to tell this story to anyone. For the good of us all. That evening we also agreed to continue the journey. At dawn, we found already on the edge of the forest.
The road to Sarajevo’s looked behind the fog. This trip was so tiring, my body seemed to crumble all. Arriving at Sarajevo I feel like sleeping. Our spy was so exhausted. Somehow, since leaving the jungle Brijeg my eyes felt swollen. Given the history of Bogomil since the Great Albarc had to drop my hand, given the Principality Bogomil future will only be Sanjaq (province) of the Ottoman. Could this all my fault.
“Ah, maybe this is due to the fog that!” I muttered to myself. However, the house is getting closer.