Testament of a Witch
Page 6
At the church gate he mounted his horse and proceeded down the main street of Lammersheugh. The mist had reduced visibility to about fifty yards, exaggerating the sound of the hooves on the cobbles. It was like any other small Lothian town. On each side of the road were squat dwelling houses with red pantiled roofs. He recognised the tavern where he would take a room.
As he looked to the left he thought he glimpsed a woman through a window. But the next instant there was only dark glass. The feeling of being watched was unsettling. He passed the mercat cross and the weighing beam where the houses were larger, a couple three storeys high, belonging to the merchants of the town. He noted a small shop on the ground floor of one; a sign read ‘Muschet’s Store’.
From another house on the left a noisy group of children spilled onto the street, breaking the eerie silence. One of them ran straight onto the road in front of him. Luckily he was able to draw up his horse in time.
‘You should be more careful, my boy,’ said MacKenzie sternly.
But the child did not reply. He stared up at him before taking off across the road and running down the High Street.
CHAPTER 14 - Lammersheugh House
MACKENZIE FOLLOWED THE servant up the stairs and across the hallway. They entered a room, much of which was in shadows. He could make out an elaborately carved fireplace, a painted ceiling and portraits on the walls. Sash windows looked onto the gardens. He was reminded of his library at The Hawthorns.
The grim servant spoke in a gruff voice: ‘Mr John MacKenzie, Clerk o the Session.’
There were two figures in the room. His eyes were drawn first to the one standing by the window. ‘Thank you, Murdoch,’ she said, coming forward to greet him.
She was dressed in mourning, a billowing black skirt engulfing a slender body. MacKenzie noticed how pale her face was; the hint of bone beneath papery skin. Dark lines curved under eyes which reminded him of her mother, but her features were a mixture of both parents. She had not inherited Grissell’s beauty. The chin of her father was too dominant; her mother’s voluptuous lips diluted.
‘Mr MacKenzie, welcome. I am Euphame. I must thank you for attending our mother’s burial. She always spoke of you with great affection.’
‘My dear, may I pass on my condolences. I was deeply shocked to hear of your mother’s death and much regret we meet under such circumstances.’
There was a hint of a smile on Euphame’s face: ‘This is my sister, Rosina.’
The other figure moved towards him from the shadows around the fireplace. As no candles were lit, it was difficult to differentiate her black dress from the surrounding darkness. MacKenzie experienced the sense of a spirit drifting towards him. The image of a burning witch on the Castle Hill flashed through his mind – a body engulfed in fire.
The younger sister took his hand. ‘I welcome you to our home, Mr MacKenzie.’ She was smaller in height, more curvaceous in body. She had inherited Grissell’s beauty.
‘Please be seated. Murdoch will bring us some refreshments,’ said Euphame, indicating a chair beside the fireside. The two sisters sat on the couch facing him.
‘I am sorry to raise the subject of business at such a time, but there are a number of legal matters we must consider. The estate will have to be administered. I believe your mother has not employed a factor since your father’s death?’ MacKenzie began.
Euphame looked down at her hands. There were tears on her forlorn face. It struck MacKenzie how alone the girls were. Despite it being the day of their mother’s burial, there was to be no solace from the Hay kin. Their father had been a fine man. Now his family was shunned by relatives and neighbours alike.
Euphame raised her head. ‘What are we to do, Mr MacKenzie? You must help us!’ Her voice was brittle.
‘Of course, my dear. I will do all I can to keep the affairs of the estate in order.’ He thought it best not to mention the letter.
‘It is not the estate that concerns us.’ Rosina seemed calmer. ‘It is what has happened to our mother. I presume you have heard of the accusations made against her? Men who have benefited from their connection to the House – Cant, Muschet and Rankine were her accusers. Margaret Rammage delated her. Sir, our mother was no witch!’
MacKenzie inclined his head in assent. ‘I will do all that I can to find out what has happened. But we must tread carefully. While I am in the parish I will follow the role of family lawyer. If it was thought I was here for other reasons it might make enquiries difficult. I do not want to draw attention to myself.’
‘We understand, Mr MacKenzie. We are most grateful to you for we have no one else to turn to,’ said Euphame.
‘I will do everything I can. First, I will write to my assistant, Davie Scougall, asking him to join me. He is in Musselburgh visiting his parents. As we say in Gaelic, Is e iomadaidh nan làmh a nì an obair aotrom – many hands make light work.’
Euphame removed a handkerchief to dry her tears as Murdoch entered with a tray. He placed it on a small table beside them. ‘Please join us, Mr MacKenzie.’
Euphame filled a glass with wine. MacKenzie took a sip, waiting until Murdoch left the room before continuing. ‘What do you believe happened to your mother?’
She took a deep breath. ‘She mourned deeply for our father. His death drained the life from her. And recently she has been afflicted by other concerns. We are not sure of their nature, exactly.’ Euphame placed her hands on her lap. ‘She did not share her cares with us. I think that pressure was being applied to her in some way. Archibald Muschet was calling in debts. She was sorely troubled by this. She feared that he would take her to court.’
‘What kind of man is he?’ asked MacKenzie, munching on a piece of bread.
‘He is a merchant who has prospered by money-lending. He is a vile little man,’ Rosina intervened. There was venom in her voice.
‘Our mother was very worried by the financial position of the estates. She could not raise sufficient cash to pay him,’ added Euphame.
‘I will examine the finances as soon as I can. But why would Muschet want to kill your mother or have her accused of witchcraft? He will still have to follow legal process despite her death.’
‘I believe he loved her,’ blurted out Rosina.
‘My sister speaks hastily, Mr MacKenzie. I can assure you, they were not lovers.’ Euphame turned a sharp eye on Rosina.
‘I never said they were. But I know the way he looked at her. I am sure that he had made an offer of marriage. Can you imagine it – a stepfather who was born in a hovel!’ The younger sister held back none of her disgust.
‘Many men looked at her in that way,’ said Euphame. ‘She did not seek their attention. Her beauty attracted it.’
‘Are you saying that Muschet was a scorned lover?’ asked MacKenzie.
‘No. I do not believe that he was.’
‘Do you have any evidence to suggest that he was involved in her death?’
‘None,’ said Euphame emphatically.
MacKenzie took another sip of wine. ‘Who was the woman who delated her?’
‘Margaret Rammage was a servant of Janet Cranstoun in Aikenshiels. She was executed last month with her mistress. Our mother never met her.’ Euphame began to shake. She folded her arms across her chest, rubbing them. ‘I cannot get warm, despite the fire.’
‘You must eat, sister,’ said Rosina.
‘I cannot. I cannot keep a morsel down.’
‘You will waste away. Then where will we be?’
MacKenzie watched the interaction between the girls. ‘Are you sure that your mother did not know Margaret Rammage?’
‘I do not think so,’ replied Rosina.
He cut off a piece of cheese, placing it on a slice of bread. ‘Tell me what happened on the day she died.’
Rosina took a deep breath. ‘She ate breakfast with us, then dressed in her riding suit. We thought that she was bound for the hills. She left at about eight in the morning. The day passed without incident. But in the
afternoon word came from Murdoch that a body had been found in the hills. In the evening the men brought her back. She was drowned in the Devil’s Pool.’
Euphame closed her eyes, attempting to control herself. But the shaking continued. MacKenzie was reminded of a frightened bird.
‘Where is the place?’ he asked.
‘About two miles from the town in the Lammermuirs. You follow the Lammer Burn. It is a place most of the people avoid. There are stories about it. We never go there,’ said Rosina.
‘Where were you during the day?’
‘At the house and in the gardens,’ said Euphame.
‘And Janet?’
‘Janet was with us the whole day.’
‘Is there anything else you can think of that might help to explain what happened? As you know, those accused of witchcraft sometimes seek escape in this manner.’
‘I do not believe she would kill herself, Mr MacKenzie. Her love for us was too strong. She would not abandon us,’ said Rosina.
Euphame looked down at her skeletal hands. She moved a ring up and down her finger. She shook her head, but said nothing.
Rosina sat forward. ‘Something is happening in the parish,’ she said intently. ‘We feel it. Janet has felt it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I do not know. But there is something.’
There was a knock on the door. Murdoch entered and began to light the candles on the wall brackets. MacKenzie waited until he had completed his task and left. ‘Who are your neighbours?’
‘Tweeddale has land to the west, but we have little to do with him,’ said Euphame, who had recovered her composure. ‘He is in London mostly, on political business. Our close neighbours are Lady Girnington, our father’s sister, Colonel Robert Dewar of Clachdean and Adam Cockburn of Woodlawheid.’
‘How would you describe them to me, Rosina?’ MacKenzie had noticed the more direct replies of the younger sister. He addressed his question to her.
‘Our aunt did not like our mother. We do not like our aunt. Woodlawheid is a good neighbour. He has helped us often. The colonel is a brute.’
‘A brute?’
‘A lecherous drunkard,’ Rosina said contemptuously.
MacKenzie was aware of noises somewhere in the house. He could hear Murdoch’s raised voice. The sounds were getting closer. Suddenly the door burst open.
‘I am sorry, my lady.’ The beleaguered servant was pushed back.
Leading the intruders was the minister, a grim expression on his face. MacKenzie counted six others enter the room.
‘What is the meaning of this intrusion, Mr Cant?’ Euphame summoned the authority of her social position.
‘I am sorry. My task is of the utmost gravity,’ replied Cant, short of breath.
MacKenzie saw the panic on Euphame’s face. Clearly the message brought by the minister was not one of condolence.
‘Grave accusations have been made. Margaret Rammage has delated…’ Cant glanced at Rosina, hesitated, and then commenced: ‘Euphame Hay of Lammersheugh, eldest daughter of Alexander Hay of Lammersheugh for the crime of witchcraft.’
The young woman sank back onto the couch from which she had just risen, whispering: ‘God help me, God help me.’
‘Margaret Rammage has delated Euphame Hay as a witch,’ the minister continued. ‘She is accused of meeting with the Devil in the Blinkbonny Woods and other places in the parish, of lying with him and other libidinous behaviour.’ Cant spoke as if reading the minutes of a session meeting. He could not bring himself to look into Euphame’s eyes.
‘You are surely mistaken. She is an innocent girl,’ MacKenzie gasped.
‘I do not know who you are, sir. But we have evidence.’
‘I am John MacKenzie. I act on behalf of the family as their legal agent in Edinburgh.’
‘We must investigate the accusations. Satan walks in Lammersheugh!’ exclaimed the minister.
‘Surely you do not believe that this young woman could be involved?’
‘Her mother was under suspicion at the time of her death. The parish is in much danger, Mr MacKenzie. As minister of Lammersheugh I must do all that is in my power to root out such evil, wherever it presents itself – in the byre or in the laird’s house.’
‘I cannot allow such madness to go unchallenged.’ MacKenzie moved in front of Euphame. ‘Such accusations are ridiculous. I ask you to calm yourselves, gentlemen. Look at this in a rational…’
A man standing beside Cant with a crazed look in his bulging eyes pointed at Euphame: ‘We must take her!’
The minister stood back to let the others forward. MacKenzie was manhandled out of the way. Heavily outnumbered, he realised that resistance was pointless.
As Euphame looked up at him imploringly, a terrible thought passed through his mind. He wondered if her fate was sealed already. Was she to be garrotted and burned to dust on the Castle Hill like the poor creature witnessed by Scougall?
CHAPTER 15 - A Cottage in the Woods
THE EVENTS OF the afternoon added urgency to MacKenzie’s steps as he made his way through the gardens of Lammersheugh House in the gloaming. He would usually have taken time to examine the plants in the long border against the wall, but his horticultural interests were relegated to the back of his mind. The arrest of Euphame placed everything in a different light. He had no time to lose.
He found the gate at the end of the wall. A path led across the muir and over a small brig into the darkness of the woods. After about fifty yards it bifurcated. He took the right fork. The gurgling of a burn could be heard on the left, but he could see little in front of him beyond a few feet, so he kept his head down, fearing he might trip over a tree root. After about half a mile he came to a glade where a small cottage could be seen in the half light, a line of smoke drifting into the sky from the chimney. It was an old stone dwelling-place with a little garden surrounded by a low wall. A birch tree shimmered silver and two rowans stood like sentries at the gate. Light glimmered at one of the windows.
He knocked three times, as instructed. A dog barked. There was a short delay before the door opened and Janet peered out. ‘Come awa in, Mr MacKenzie – come in. It’s a cauld nicht.’
After sniffing his leg, the dog returned to the fire. ‘Please be seated, sir.’
He sat on the chair, but realising it was the only one in the cottage, rose to his feet.
‘No, sir, I insist. My auld body is a twisted root. I cannae sit at rest sometimes. I will pour us some ale.’
She disappeared into the shadows at the other side of the room. A candle on the table beside the chair was the only source of illumination. He noticed a box bed in a corner, a black cauldron by the fire and a long wooden table.
‘You no longer live at the house, Janet?’
‘No. I hae a wee annual rent granted in ma auld age. The cottage is ma ain until I dee. Ma family are gone, sir, deid or gone, at least fae roond here. I still hae some on ma mither’s side in Perthshire. She was a Gaelic speaker like yoursel.’
‘Where was she from?’
‘A village near Blair. I hae never been there. She came sooth tae the Lowlands when she wis a girl. Ma faither widnae let me speak her tongue. He said it wis the language o beasts. So I hae only a few wirds o Gaelic. But she taught me much else besides. She had the second sight. I hae some o her skill.’
MacKenzie smiled. ‘It is a shame you cannot speak Gaelic. What of the rest of your family?’
‘Ma faither wis a servant o Tweeddale’s at Yester. I served at Aikwood afore Grissell was born and stayed wi her. Ma man served the House of Lammersheugh. He died in the year the rebels rose against the King.’
‘Was that in 1666 or 1679?’ asked MacKenzie.
‘It wis 1666. They were a bundle o grim craws. Oor parish still crawls wi em, wirms like Marion Rankine. Looking doon their noses at ye. Aye tellin folk what tae do. I hae nae time for ’em, Mr MacKenzie.’
‘Then we will get on well, Janet. I have little liking for
fanatics. Who is Marion Rankine?’
‘She is the sister o thon session clerk, Theophilus Rankine. Hae ye ever heard sic a name, Theophilus – lover o God I’ve been telt it means, but they are sic a joyless pair o crimmers. They are aw up tae somethin, mind, I’m sure o it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve seen strangers in the parish. Folk oot at nicht up tae nae guid. I hae seen them wi my ain een. Only last week there were three cairts on the Haddington Road at midnight.’
‘What were they carrying?’
‘I dinnae ken. It wis somethin which was to be kept secret. But they couldnae hide it frae Janet Cornfoot. I often walk in the wids at nicht. And ither things, Mr MacKenzie – strange screams at nicht.’
‘What kind of screams?’
‘Wailin sounds, like spirits cryin fir release.’
MacKenzie wondered how reliable she was as a source of information. ‘You have no one else, Janet?’
‘Ma lad went aff tae sea twenty year ago an ne’er returned.’
‘How old are you?’ He saw that she enjoyed the chance to talk. It was an old lawyer’s trick. Put a person at ease with a few questions about themselves, then down to work.
‘I dinnae ken. I wis aye telt I wis born in the year guid King James came back tae Scotland aifter winning the English Croon. That wis in 1617, which wid mak me sixty-nine or seventy. What is certain is I’m an auld cailleach. Is that not what you say in Gaelic!’ she chuckled.
‘Your Gaelic is good, Janet.’ MacKenzie felt that he could not withhold the events of the afternoon any longer. His expression became serious. ‘I’m afraid I have bad news, very bad news. Euphame has been taken to the steeple, suspected as a witch, to be questioned by the session tonight.’