The forests of Solemn Vale are home to many rivers and streams that babble along through the trees. Some are wide enough to be crossed by small bridges, others just large enough for a traveler to leap from bank to bank.
One unassuming length of river, a few miles into the forest, bears a history of death. The Ryswell Straight, as this quarter mile of rugged river is known, runs between mossy banks and looks to any passerby like any other quiet woodland creek. The little river is deceptively deep though, and startlingly fast.
Following the Ryswell Straight will lead to a flat rock, slipping out from the forest floor over the river. The rock is treacherous, slippery even when dry. And it was from this rock, in the winter of 1576, that a girl named Bethany Ryswell was cast naked into the freezing river by the town priest.
Accused of witchcraft after a neighbour’s hen began laying black-yoked eggs, Bethany was swiftly apprehended by the local clergy, and the priest declared a test of faith. Promising Bethany would be cleared of all accusations should she swim the river and climb the other side, the girl was thrown in.
Only a dozen feet across, the river’s current held the girl down against the rocky riverbed, and Bethany never again rose from the water. The Priest cursed her name as a witch, it let it be known that holy justice had been served.
Ryswell straight began to be visited by missionaries over the decades following, becoming something of a holy site. They noticed strange things about the waters moving through the area. As if disobeying the laws of nature itself, the waters of the Ryswell straight coarse faster when touched, streaming past errant fingertips or dangled toes as if clutching for them. The waters turn in onto themselves in places, spinning the current in strange and unpredictable ways. Holy men at the site say it was the power of God in the waters.
This narrative was kept up a while, until a visiting Bishop blessing the river stepped on a particular out-jutting rock and slipped into the straight. The waters gripped the man like claws, tugging him under without time to scream. It was hours before they pulled the Bishops body from the waters downstream of the Ryswell straight, bloodied and torn upon the rocks.
In the strange way of things, more people began to visit the Ryswell Straight following the bishop’s grisly death. Each seeking a test of faith, to prove their holiness by leaping into the waters and successfully swimming to the other side. It seems none were as holy as they believed. Since 1576, no-one who has stepped into the Ryswell Straight has made it to the other side. Every single pious soul, adventuring daredevil or unfortunate walker who just happened to slip, has died in the short straight of river. Either held under by the twisting waters, or smashed upon the rocks. Some believe God is a harsh judge, and others say that the ghost of Bethany Ryswell still lies seeking warmth from the river bed.
At the Ryswell Straight today, little marks the place but for a poorly constructed wire fence around a few areas of the river, and a sign that warns ‘DANGER. Beware slippery Rocks. No Swimming’.
