The Vanishing Witch

by Karen Maitland

  ‘I believe Godwin,’ Beata said stubbornly. ‘I’ve seen what that little imp Leonia can do. Aye, and felt it too. And I can see how she’s witching young Adam. Haven’t you noticed the lad’s changing? He’s getting sly and spiteful.’

  ‘He’s growing up,’ Tenney said.

  ‘It’s more than that. I saw them the other night after dark, here in the stables. I couldn’t see much of what they were up to, but they weren’t playing sweethearts, that’s for certain. She’d a bowl in front of her and a lit candle. Both of them were peering into it. They’d caught some creature or other. I couldn’t see what it was ’cause they were bent over with their backs to me. But I could hear the poor thing shrieking in pain. It was enough to set your teeth on edge. Made me feel sick it did. I was in two minds whether or not to go in and demand to know what they were doing, but . . . I couldn’t seem to step inside. It was as if there was a solid door there. It fair gave me the shivers, I can tell you. I ran straight back to my bed. Lay awake half the night, as chilled as if a corpse were lying atop me.’

  Tenney sighed. ‘If I go saying anything to him about his wife or Leonia, I’ll find myself turned out on the road, afore I can say, “Bless me.”’

  ‘If you won’t tell Master Robert,’ Beata said, ‘I will. I promised the mistress I’d watch out for her husband and her son and I’ll not break my word to a dying woman.’

  Tenney groaned. When Beata took that stance, arms folded and lips pursed, not even an angel with a flaming sword could turn her away from what she’d made up her mind to do.

  A piercing scream split the darkness and Robert found himself staggering out of bed for the third time that night. Had Johan’s men broken in? His heart thudding, he stood listening until he heard Tenney’s voice calling up from below.

  ‘It’s only Beata again, Master Robert. Don’t you fret. I’ll see to her.’

  Robert peered down into the dark stableyard below. Tenney was making his way to the kitchen, a lantern swinging in his hand, sending shadows slithering up and down the courtyard wall. Robert slammed the shutter. It was a damnably hot night, and they needed every breeze they could capture to make sleep possible, but better they roast than listen to those shrieks. He crossed to the ambry where the food and drink for the night had been left and poured himself a goblet of wine, drinking it in thirsty gulps. He knew it was foolish. He’d wake in a few hours with a sour stomach, but rather that than lie tossing and turning for the rest of the night.

  He climbed back into bed next to Catlin, groaning as he tried to find a comfortable position in the sweat-soaked sheets.

  ‘You’ll have to dismiss her in the morning,’ Catlin murmured in the darkness.

  ‘She’s been with me for years,’ Robert said. ‘Can’t send her packing just because she has nightmares.’

  ‘No normal woman has nightmares like these. And have you forgotten that nonsense when she imagined she saw a skull and candles on our bed?’

  ‘Jan’s death has unsettled Beata, that’s all,’ Robert said.

  But in truth he was beginning to worry that Beata was rather more than unsettled. Only the other day, when Catlin had poured him some of his favourite spiced wine from the flask that was always kept for him on the chest in the hall, Beata had suddenly turned as white as whey, flown across the room and dashed the goblet from his hands. Before anyone could stop her, she was pouring the contents of the flask onto the floor, babbling about Catlin putting poison in it. Poor Catlin had been forced to pull the flask from Beata’s hands and drink from it herself just to prove to her that the wine was untainted.

  Suppose his wife was right after all and Beata had slashed the bed. Hadn’t she said her aunt had been mad? Such things tended to run in families. Robert wondered if it really was time to dismiss her, though he resented being told to do it.

  ‘And what are we to say to the neighbours?’ Catlin said tersely. ‘I saw Mistress Ann peering through her casement earlier tonight as if she feared there was a demon in our courtyard. It will not help your business if the rumour spreads you’re employing a woman who’s possessed.’

  ‘I’ll deal with it,’ Robert snapped. ‘Don’t turn into a scold like Edith!’

  He heard a sharp intake of breath as if he had slapped her and was instantly remorseful. He reached for her hand in the darkness, stroking the back, marvelling, as he never ceased to do, at the delicate softness of her skin. ‘I’ll speak to Beata in the morning, my dear. Now please can we try to sleep while she’s quiet?’

  Early-morning sunlight flooded through the casement, promising another cloudless day, which was more than could be said for the mood of those gathered around the table in the hall for breakfast. Robert, Catlin and Edward had the puffy faces and dull eyes of those who had slept ill, while Tenney and Diot were as bad. Only Leonia looked as fresh as a rosebud. Nothing had troubled her sleep.

  Robert gazed at his stepdaughter. A black curl swung against her soft cheek, iridescent in the sunlight. Was it his imagination or had her breasts filled out a little in these past few weeks? Rounded little mounds peeped over the embroidered neckline of her dress. It was a credit to the child that, even at this hour, she had taken care to dress pleasingly, which was more than could be said for her mother.

  Catlin was clad only in her dressing robe of russet fox fur, her legs flashing bare and white beneath it as she shifted in her chair. It irritated Robert to see her so, especially with her son in the house. It was vulgar and unbecoming for a woman of her rank to be dining half naked in front of her son – her stepson too, come to that. He caught Catlin and Edward exchanging another of their knowing glances and felt disquieted, as if they were anticipating something of which he had no knowledge.

  Robert dipped a sop of bread into his ale and pushed it into his mouth. In truth, he was so weary he could barely face breakfast, but he hoped that food might rouse him a little. It had better, or he was likely to fall asleep where he sat.

  The door opened and Beata entered, placing a dish of boiled herring on the table. Her hands were trembling, making the dish rattle against the wood as she set it down. Robert did not much care for herring at any time, but today, with those white boiled fish eyes staring up at him, any vestige of appetite that might have been stirring was instantly quashed.

  Catlin coughed pointedly, catching Robert’s eye. For a moment, he couldn’t think what she wanted. Then he remembered.

  ‘Beata?’

  She flinched at the mention of her name and darted a frightened glance in his direction. Robert was shocked to see the change in her. She was no beauty at the best of times. The pox had been cruel to her, leaving her with a deeply pitted face and drooping eyelids. But today she looked positively hag-ridden. Her face was pale, with dark smudges under her eyes – she might even have been punched. The memory of Edith floated into his head. Was Beata afflicted with the same sickness as had taken her mistress? No, it was not the same, he could see, yet the rapid change in her perturbed him.

  All the faces at the table had turned to him, waiting for him to speak, but he couldn’t bring himself to talk to her in front of them, when she was obviously so distressed.

  ‘Beata . . . I wanted a word with you. I’ll come to the kitchen presently.’

  To his surprise, she seemed desperately relieved. ‘Yes, I must speak with you, Master Robert. Please come soon.’ Lowering her gaze, she scuttled out.

  Robert took a last swig of the ale and rose.

  Catlin reached out to touch his hand. ‘You will tell her she must leave. I can’t stand another night of this and the children will be ill if they’re continually disturbed.’

  ‘The children are well enough, my dear. I wish I had their resilience.’ He pinched Leonia’s cheek, smiling tenderly, in spite of his tiredness. ‘In fact I would say our daughter is positively glowing with health. What is your secret, my dear? An innocent soul?’

  Leonia giggled. ‘It’s because I always feel safe when you’re here, Père. Nothing disturbs me because I
know you’ll protect me.’

  She stood up beside Robert, throwing her arms around him, and arching her back as she lifted her face to be kissed. From this angle, Robert observed that her breasts were definitely swelling into the sweetest little peaches he’d seen on a girl in a long time. She would need careful guarding. There were many lads and men out there who’d be only too eager to steal over the wall to pluck the fruit from such a tree and she was such an innocent.

  When Robert pushed open the door to the kitchen he found Beata sitting on a stool, rocking back and forth amid a chaos of unwashed pots and half-prepared food. She lifted her head only long enough to see who had entered, then lowered it again without meeting Robert’s gaze.

  Robert had never hesitated to dismiss any man, young or old, if he wasn’t performing his work as well as he should, but dismissing a woman, and a woman who had been part of his household for so long, that was different. He’d no idea how to begin this.

  ‘Beata . . . the nightmares . . . You wake the whole household repeatedly. It can’t continue. If it was simply a question of disturbed sleep, Hugo Bayus would be able to prescribe you a draught to help, but this is more—’

  ‘I don’t ever want to sleep again.’ Beata stared up at him, her reddened eyes full of fear. ‘Each time I do it’s the same. I’m in the river, under the thick green water. I can’t reach the surface. Something has hold of my ankles, pulling me down. Then I see them swimming towards me. Long black eels with rows of teeth. I feel their fat slimy bodies twisting round me, pinning my arms so I can’t move. They’re strangling me. Eating me alive. Eels with human faces. Eels with Jan’s face!’ She gave a great sob and buried her face in her hands.

  Robert closed his eyes, shuddering at the memory of his son’s bloated body, dragged from the water. ‘You were . . . fond of Jan, I know. The shock of his death, it . . .’

  She shook her head, glancing fearfully out of the open door. Then she leaped to her feet, pushed past him and dragged it shut, plunging them into darkness. The only light came from the deep, ruby glow of the embers in the oven. She drew so close to Robert that he could smell her sour breath. For an insane moment he thought she would attempt to kiss him. Alarmed, he tried to back away, but succeeded only in knocking over a pile of pots.

  ‘Did Tenney speak to you?’ she whispered urgently. ‘Did he tell you what Godwin told him about Widow Catlin and Leonia?’

  Robert was bewildered. ‘Godwin? I know no one by that name. Beata, we need to decide what’s to be done with you. You’ve given good service to my family, but—’

  ‘You must listen, Master Robert. Leonia is enchanting Adam. It’s already begun.’

  A fond smile crossed Robert’s lips. ‘Leonia has the gift of enchanting everyone. It’s good if she can coax young Adam into better humour.’

  ‘It isn’t good at all! Adam is no more than a nestling, but Leonia, she’s a woman. She can seduce—’

  ‘No!’ Robert’s face flushed with indignation. ‘She’s just a child.’ Even as he uttered the words he knew deep down that they weren’t quite true, but that only made him the more annoyed.

  He tried to remember that Beata was sick and attempted to keep the anger from his voice. ‘If Leonia is kind to Adam, it’s because she’s a tender, motherly girl and naturally feels pity for the boy, that’s all. But, of course, if you have proof otherwise, you’d better tell me at once.’

  ‘I do have proof,’ Beata gabbled, then turned her head, staring wildly at the wall, as if she were addressing someone Robert couldn’t see. ‘I will speak, I will . . . You can’t stop me! All three of them—’ She broke off with a strangled cry, her hands clutching at her throat, then fell to the floor, her back arching, jerking violently.

  Robert ran to the door, flung it wide and shouted for help. He glanced around and, seeing a beaker of small ale on the table, he snatched it up and dashed the liquid into her face, but still she convulsed. Tenney came running across the yard, closely followed by Diot.

  ‘Look at her! It’s as plain as a pig’s arse, she has the falling sickness,’ Diot announced triumphantly. She hurried back towards the house as if she couldn’t wait to apprise her mistress of every detail.

  Beata’s jerking gradually subsided and she lay still, as white as a shroud. Robert strode across the yard, beckoning Tenney to follow. He kept his voice low, not wanting to distress Beata and bring on another attack.

  ‘When Beata has recovered sufficiently to be moved, put her in the cart and take her to the infirmary at the convent of St Mary Magdalene. Give them this for her admission.’ He fumbled in his purse and brought out a gold coin, which he handed to Tenney. ‘If they can make her well, they may take her in as a lay servant but tell them she cannot return here. If she should be overcome near a fire or on the stairs, she could kill herself. The nuns will know to set her to work where she risks least harm, in the gardens, perhaps.’

  Tenney tried to thrust the coin back at Robert. ‘Master Robert, it’s not the falling sickness, I’m sure of it. It’s grief over Mistress Edith and Jan, and now she’s fretting herself sick over you and young Adam. If she could but sleep without dreaming . . . I’ll ask the nuns if they have a potion to help her. I know if she could just rest—’

  ‘There is no sleep without dreams,’ Robert told him firmly. ‘I’m sorry, Tenney. I know you’re fond of her, but I cannot have the curse of the falling sickness in my house. I’m master of the Guild of Merchants. With business already as bad as it is, if this should become known, I’d be ruined. No one would trade with me for fear of it and then I’d have to part with you and Diot too. Besides, it’s not just the sickness. It’s her insane accusations – poisoned wine and skulls! Beata herself admitted that her aunt had run mad. I fear she’s afflicted with the same tainted blood, and what if she should attack Catlin or Leonia? I’d never forgive myself.’

  But Tenney would not give up easily. ‘Please don’t shut her away, Master Robert. I’ll ask her to wed me. I’ve been meaning to for years, but never got around to it. We could rent one of your cottages. I’d keep her out of harm’s way. I know she’s not the fairest lass in the cabbage patch, but I’m not the best-looking man either and she’s a good soul. She doesn’t deserve to be walled up.’

  ‘No one who has the falling sickness can marry. The Church forbids it and I forbid it,’ Robert said. ‘She’ll have a good life in the nunnery, plenty of women to gossip with and people to care for her. You will take her to Magdalene’s this morning, Tenney. I’ll not be dissuaded from this.’

  He turned away towards the house, but for the first time in his life, Tenney laid hold of his master’s arm and pulled him back. Robert stared at him, as if he, too, had run mad.

  ‘Beg pardon, Master Robert, but Beata was right. There’s something I have to tell you. Maybe if I’d come straight out with it and told you soon as I got home, she wouldn’t . . . It’s like this. I got talking to a man—’

  Tenney froze, staring at something over Robert’s shoulder. A look of fear passed across his face. He quickly averted his eyes, and strode back to the kitchen. Alarmed, Robert turned to see what had frightened him, but saw nothing untoward, only little Leonia standing in the open doorway, her lips parted in her usual beguiling smile.

  Chapter 39

  If a man or woman is sick, take the water that has been used to wash them and fling it on the track outside. The first living creature, human or animal, to pass over the wet ground shall take the illness upon themselves and the sufferer will recover.

  Beata

  I rushed at the door of the infirmary as soon as it opened, but Sister Ursula and the two lay sisters who flanked her were on their guard. Afore I even reached the door, they’d grabbed my arms. I yelped as their fingers dug again into the bruises they’d already made. They steered me back to the little bed. The twenty or so patients in the long chamber watched me warily as if they thought I might start screaming or biting, like they did.

  My bed, like the others, was enclos
ed on three sides by high wooden panels. There was even a fourth panel, which could be bolted to the remaining side, like a cupboard door, to lock the patient inside for hours, as I knew only too well.

  The lay sisters were spiteful cats, especially when the nuns weren’t around. They were always grumbling about the filthy work they were forced to do because they were low-born or bastards, while the daughters of wealthy families had dowries to buy their way into an easy life at the convent. The lay sisters dared not complain to the nuns so they took it out on us. It was no good appealing to them, but a nun would surely listen to reason.

  ‘Sister Ursula, please, I must speak with Master Robert. I’m so afeared for him. He doesn’t know how wicked she is. She’ll destroy him and poor little Adam, else send them mad. They’re both such innocents. I have to warn him.’

  ‘I am quite certain,’ Sister Ursula said sternly, ‘that a wealthy merchant like your master is far from innocent in the matter of women and more than capable of dealing with any female who has designs on him.’

  ‘But he isn’t,’ I protested. ‘You must let me out. I have to talk to him, tell what we’ve learned, for Tenney’s too afeared to do it. I swear I’ll not linger, not if he doesn’t want me there. I’ll go as soon as I’ve made him understand.’

  The two lay sisters smirked, as if I had told a bawdy joke. ‘You’ll not be going anywhere, will she, Sister?’ one said. ‘In here for life, that’s right, isn’t it?’

  ‘That will do,’ Sister Ursula snapped. ‘Amice has soiled herself again. She needs her bed linen changing.’ She nodded towards an ancient, toothless woman, who huddled naked on the edge of the bed, rocking and whimpering to herself.

  ‘Wh-what did they mean, for life?’ I said, panic rising.

  Sister Ursula wouldn’t look at me, but occupied herself with trying to draw the sheet up around me as if I was a bairn she was tucking up for the night.