Witch from the Sea

by Philippa Carr

  That was what had started my speculations. It was certainly mysterious. My mood fluctuated. At times I would think it was nonsense; then at others the certainty that my mother had not died naturally would be with me. Then I would start to look again for the journal, for if there was a secret would it not be in that? But if she had not known she was about to die how could it have been! But had she known? Why should she have been afraid during those last days of her life?

  It would be in the book and if that book existed it must be in the castle.

  I could think of nowhere in her sitting-room where it could be. I had searched that and the settle had yielded nothing. In the bedroom which she had shared with my father and was now that of him and stepmother? That had been refurbished after my mother’s death. Surely if the book had come to light it would have been mentioned—or destroyed perhaps.

  It was all mysterious and long ago. Yet at times the urge to discover that book came back strongly to me.

  There were turret rooms in the towers of both Nonna and Crow where perhaps something could be hidden. In one of my exploratory moods I decided to look.

  In those rooms there were some very old pieces of furniture, among them several stools and a table and a pallet or two. The stools were interesting because they were made like boxes and articles could be stored under where one sat.

  When I was in the turrets with their long narrow windows I was always fascinated to look out to sea and my eyes invariably came to rest on the jagged rocks of the Devil’s Teeth. A gruesome sight! I was not surprised that they were said to be haunted.

  These rooms were used fairly frequently, for high in the walls of those facing the sea were windows in which lanterns hung. They were reached by step-ladders which were kept in each room so that they could be easily reached. The lanterns had been hanging there for many years and had been placed there by one of my ancestors. He was known as Good Casvellyn in contrast, I had heard, to so many of the family who were far from good. The Devil’s Teeth had always been responsible for a good share of wrecks along our coast and Good Casvellyn had had the idea that if he carefully placed lighted lanterns in the top of his towers of Nonna and Seaward, it was possible that they could be seen some way out to sea and the sailors who saw them would know they were close to the treacherous Devil’s Teeth. Therefore they would steer clear of them.

  I liked to think that the kindly action started by Good Casvellyn had saved the lives of sailors. Of course it often happened that in spite of the lights there were disasters on the rocks.

  I was always anxious when I heard the wind rising and the spring tides were up and there was a storm at sea. How many ships had foundered on that grinning mouth? I imagined that many a sailor who was unsure of his whereabouts and saw the lights in Nonna and Seaward Towers blessed Good Casvellyn for his lights.

  It was the duty of one of the men from Seaward to make sure that each night they were shining out to sea.

  I had searched everywhere in the tower rooms at Nonna’s. I examined the stools with the greatest care because I suspected that in one of them there must be a secret compartment.

  It was soon after Christmas that I started to search again, and the more I thought of the matter, the more certain I became that one of the stools up there could be a hiding-place for those papers. I examined them all. There was indeed a secret compartment in one of them which made my heart beat fast but there was nothing in it when I finally succeeded in opening it.

  I sat on the floor feeling exasperated. There is nothing so maddening as to search for something when you are not even sure of its existence.

  Then suddenly as I sat there I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. I sensed rather than heard that someone was close watching. I stood up. There was no one in the room.

  “Who’s there?” I said in a sharp aggressive voice which betrayed my fear.

  There was no answer. I hurried to the door and threw it open. I was looking straight at the spiral staircase which wound a few steps from the top so that if someone were just a dozen steps down one would not see that person. But I did hear a light footstep and I knew that someone had been watching me.

  Why had he or she not answered when I called? Why was it necessary to watch me unobserved?

  There came to me then the thought that someone knew what I was looking for, and that that someone was very anxious to know if I had found it.

  The light was beginning to fade. I looked round the room. Soon the man who was in charge of the lantern would arrive to light it. I did not want him to find me here. Nor did I wish to stay here. That step on the stairs had unnerved me. For if someone was eager to know whether I had found the papers, why should this be so?

  Was someone afraid that I would find them? Was someone else looking for them even more fervently than I was? If so, there could be but one reason for this. That person might be afraid of what was in them.

  Who would be? The one who had killed my mother.

  Thomas Grenoble called often. Senara would play the lute to him and sing languorous songs of love.

  She had another suitor too. He was a young man with hair and eyes as dark as her own. He was a visitor at Squire Marden’s house. Some years older than Senara, he was intense and passionate I should imagine. He was not English though his name was not really foreign. He was Lord Cartonel. He spoke with a rather careful accent and some of his expressions were un-English.

  He told us that he had been in several embassies for the late Queen and that he had lived abroad for many years, which was why there appeared to be something a little foreign about him.

  There was no doubt that my stepmother admired him and I guessed that she had chosen either him or Thomas Grenoble as Senara’s husband.

  Senara was delighted to have these two admirers.

  “It is always good,” she said, “to have a choice.”

  “And what of Dickon?” I asked.

  “Dickon! You can’t seriously think that I am considering him.”

  “If he were of noble birth …”

  Her face flushed with sudden anger. “But he is not!” she said sharply and changed the subject.

  It was late February when Melanie said to me one day: “My brother is home. I have a letter here from my mother. She says he will be staying for a while before his next voyage.”

  “I wonder if he will call here.”

  “I think he will want to,” she answered, smiling her gentle smile.

  I used to wake up every morning after that saying to myself: “Perhaps he’ll come today.” Whenever I heard arrivals I would dash to my window and look down longing to see him.

  February was out. He had been home three weeks and he had not come to the castle.

  Why did he not come? Melanie looked puzzled. Surely if he did not want to see me he would wish to see his sister?

  Senara was faintly mischievous as she always had been about Fenn.

  “I hear the good Fenn Landor has been home some weeks. Yet he does not call here.”

  I was too wounded to retort sharply so I shrugged my shoulders.

  “He has forgotten all about us,” she went on. “They say sailors are fickle.”

  A few days later we heard that Thomas Grenoble had returned to London.

  “Without asking for my hand!” said Senara demurely. “What do you make of that, Tamsyn?”

  “I thought he was deeply enamoured of you. It seems strange.”

  “He was. But I was not going to have him.”

  “He has not asked, remember.”

  “He was on the point of it. He is a very rich man, Tamsyn. He will have a high-sounding title one day. He is just the man my mother wanted for me.”

  “Yet he did not offer.”

  “Because I did not want him to.”

  “You told him so?”

  “That would not have stopped him, but I had to stop him somehow because if he had I am sure the temptation would have been too much for them to resist. So I worked a spell.”

&n
bsp; “Oh Senara, do not talk so. I have asked you so many times not to.”

  “Nevertheless I stopped him. It was a very natural sort of spell. A man in his position at Court could not have a witch for a wife.”

  “Sometimes I think you are mad, Senara.”

  “Nay, never that. I am so pleased that my spell worked that I want to tell you about it. Have you ever thought, Tamsyn, how we can make our servants work for us? They can do so much with a little prompting. I have made good use of servants … always. You are not attending. You are wondering whether Fenn will come soon. I will tell you something. He won’t come. He doesn’t want you any more than Thomas Grenoble wants me. Let me tell you about Thomas Grenoble. I made the servants talk … my servants to his servants. It was so easy. I made them tell him of my strangeness, my spells, the manner in which I was born. I wanted him to think that the servants were afraid of me, that I never went to church because I feared to. That strange things happened, that I could whip up a storm at sea, that I could make a man see me as the most beautiful creature he had ever seen … and he believed them. So that is why he went so suddenly to London. He is putting as great a distance between us as he can.”

  “You did not do this, Senara.”

  “I did. I did. I knew they would force me to marry him if he made an offer. And he was on the point of it. He was besottedly in love with me. But his fear of being involved with witchcraft was greater than his love. People are becoming more and more afraid of it, Tamsyn. It’s a growing cult. And the more people fear it, the more they discover it. I am free of Thomas Grenoble.”

  I did not entirely believe her. I thought she was piqued because he had gone away.

  I accused her of this and she laughed at me.

  “His love could not have been very strong,” I said, “if he could so quickly forget it.”

  “You should comfort me, Tamsyn. Have we not both lost a lover?”

  As I walked away I heard her shrill laughter. And I thought: She is right. I have been foolish to hope for Fenn. I misunderstood his friendship. But if he is a friend why does he stay away?

  A little later I saw Senara riding away from the castle.

  I thought: She is going to Leyden Hall. She is going to see Dickon.

  I remembered then how she had adored him when she was younger and how they had danced and sung together.

  Could it really be that she loved Dickon?

  Was it really true that she had rid herself of Thomas Grenoble in this way?

  One could never be sure with Senara. If she loved Dickon she was heading for sorrow, for she would never be allowed to marry him.

  And for myself, I knew I could never love anyone but Fenn Landor.

  Senara and I, I thought, we shall have to comfort each other.

  March came in like a lion, as they say. The winds were violent and the salt spray dashed itself against the castle walls. The waves were so high that it was dangerous to walk on the sea side of the castle. One could easily have been caught and washed away.

  One evening, when a storm was rising, I had an uneasy conviction that the lantern was not alight. There were occasions when it went out but in such weather special attention was supposed to be given to it.

  I climbed to the tower carrying a taper with me and sure enough that reassuring glow was not there and the turret rooms were in darkness.

  I thought of going to the Seaward Tower to tell them that someone had forgotten to light the lanterns in Nonna’s. Then I thought it was quite a simple matter to light them myself. I could comfortably reach them with the step-ladder. I lighted them and in a few minutes they were throwing their reassuring beam of light out across the sea.

  I went down to my bedchamber. Senara was there lying on her pallet with dreams in her eyes.

  I was about to mention the lanterns when she said: “They will be going away soon.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “The puritans. They want to worship in freedom and they say the only place where they can do so is in Holland.”

  “Will Dickon go with them?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “You will miss him.”

  She did not answer. I had rarely seen her so subdued.

  Then she started to talk about the puritans. They were brave people; they hated finery and gaiety and everything that seemed to make life interesting to her. Yet she could not but admire them. They were people who would die for their beliefs. “Imagine that, Tamsyn. It’s noble in its way.” She laughed suddenly. “Dickon is greatly tempted. I can see that. He wants to be a puritan and his whole being cries out against it. As mine would. It is a continual battle for him. Battles are exciting. You want everything to be peaceful. You always did. It’s not that you lack spirit, but you’re not an adventurer, Tamsyn. You’re the mother figure, there to love and protect. I’m not like that. I’m the mistress … to tempt, to snare and to be unpredictable.”

  “You are certainly that,” I retorted. “Why do you visit these puritans? I know why. It is because it is dangerous. There are going to be harsher rules against them. They are going to be persecuted. Perhaps people will always want to fight again and kill those who disagree with them. The Catholics on the one hand; the puritans on the other; and they are both supposed to be enemies to the Church!”

  “The King hates them. Puritans, witches and Catholics who attempt to blow up his parliament! The King is a strange man. They say he is very clever and that he is renowned for his wit. He loves pleasure as much as the puritans hate it. Thomas Grenoble told me that he spends much time at the cock-fight and pays his master of cocks two hundred pounds a year, which is equal to the salary of his secretaries of state. He is a coward too! His garments are padded to preserve him against the assassin’s knife. He is terrified of being assassinated. They talk of these matters at Leyden Hall and they plan to escape from them. It is not that they are running away exactly … They are brave men and women, for they will face fearful hazards. They care nothing for this. They make wonderful plans. They do not intend to stay in Holland.”

  Her eyes were brilliant. I could see that she was following them in her thoughts; she was facing the hazards, and I knew that all the time she was seeing herself side by side with Dickon.

  “It is some years since Sir Walter Raleigh found a fair land which he called after Queen Elizabeth—Virginia. It lies a long way across the ocean. They talk of Virginia.”

  “It was a colony,” I said, “and is now abandoned.”

  “It is a rich land of fruits and plants and trees. Perhaps it will be there that they will settle. They will build a new country where men shall be free to follow their religion.”

  “Providing,” I added, “it does not conflict with that laid down by the puritans.”

  Senara looked at me seriously for a few minutes and then she burst out laughing.

  “Oh, it is not for the religion, Tamsyn. It’s not whether we shall genuflect twenty times a day or make our knees sore by kneeling on a stone floor. What do I care for that! It’s the adventure. It’s glorious. To set out like that … not knowing whether you were going to die on the way. The dangers one would face. That’s what I care about.”

  That, I thought, and Dickon. I was very uneasy wondering what would become of her when Dickon went away.

  The next day the violent storm of the previous night had abated. Two things happened. There was a whipping in the Seaward courtyard.

  Merry told us about it, her face distorted with misery. She would, I knew, be remembering the occasion when her own Jan Leward had been so degraded.

  He had offended the master, this last victim. It was a terrible occasion. The men of Seaward had been commanded to assemble in the courtyard to watch. The women would not look. They set about preparing ointments and bandages to deal with the sufferer when he was untied from the post and dragged unconscious into the Tower.

  The whippings took place rarely, which no doubt made them more to be feared than if they were a commonplace occurre
nce. The last one had been Jan Leward. I knew that Merry had never got over it and because of this misdemeanour my father had refused them permission to marry for another year. He had told Jan, so Merry had reported to Senara, that he did not want two disobedient servants and until Jan had proved his loyalty he could not marry.

  I had watched Merry’s face sometimes when my father’s name was mentioned and I saw the bitter hatred there.

  All that day there was a hush over the castle and everyone was talking about the whipping. A few days later there was good news. We had a visitor. He wanted to see my father and thank him personally. On the night of the storm he had all but been wrecked on the Devil’s Teeth. He had in time seen the warning lights; but for that his ship battered by the devastating weather would undoubtedly have foundered. It was like an act of God. He had been making straight for the rocks and then he saw the warning light in time. He had reason to be grateful to the Casvellyns.

  The cargo he carried was one of the richest he had ever handled. Gold, ivory and spices from Africa.

  He sat drinking with my father all through the day and he announced that he was sending several barrels of finest Malmsey for the enjoyment of my father’s servants.

  When I thought about it I realized that I had been the one to light the lanterns. I couldn’t resist telling Senara about it. Merry came in while we were talking.

  “It’s a wonderful feeling,” I said, “to have saved that ship. Someone forgot to light the lanterns that night. I thank God that some instinct sent me up there at the right moment.”

  Senara and Merry were looking at me intently.

  Merry said: “So it was you.”

  “Why,” cried Senara, “the Malmsey should be yours.” She added: “If you mention it there would be trouble.”

  I thought I knew what she meant. Of course there would be trouble. The fact that I had found the lanterns unlit meant that someone had failed in his duty. A slip like that could have cost many lives.

  We wanted no more whippings in the courtyard.