by Jean Plaidy
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘See that she has all she wants to eat.’
Tamar lifted her eyes to his face; she was completely fascinated by his clothes, his voice and his manners.
He looked at her again. He said: ‘Yes, it was good of you to think of bringing me the eggs. Come to the house when you are hungry. Mistress Alton will always give you food when you need it.’
He continued to look at her while a faint smile touched his mouth. Then he turned and went away.
‘Don’t dare set foot in this house,’ said Mistress Alton. ‘Don’t dare bring your bugs in here. Go round to the back and I’ll throw something out to you. You take those rags away with you when you go.’
And so, Tamar, as her mother had done when she first came to the house, stripped outside and put on the clothes which were given her. She was a new Tamar now; the clothes were too big for her, but that did not matter, for they were fine good clothes.
Then she was allowed to sit on a stool outside the back door when Moll handed her a bowl of soup.
She had never before had such a glorious adventure,’ and all the time she ate, occasionally letting her hands stroke the rough worsted of her gown, she thought of Richard Merriman, of his beautiful voice and his rich clothes; and then it seemed to her that he had looked at her in an odd fashion, as though he, like others, realized that there was something strange about her.
Tamar was just past fourteen when Simon Carter the witch-pricker came to Plymouth.
The old Queen had been dead a year now and a new King had come from Scotland to rule the English and the Scots. Tamar knew this because she never lost an opportunity of listening to the gossip in the streets. She would stand close to men talking outside taverns; she would lie on the Hoe where the seamen gathered, and listen to their talk, keeping her face turned away so that they might not recognize her for the Devil’s daughter.
She learned that it was a good thing that they had this James to rule them, for now that the two countries were united under him there would be no more trouble between them. He was a learned man – people were beginning to call him the British Solomon – and, being a fervent believer in the powers of witchcraft, he had determined to do all he could to drive it from his realm.
There were many witches in Scotland, it seemed, as well as in the North of England – far more than there were in the South – and on the continent of Europe there were more than in England and Scotland together. Witches had had an easy time in England compared with their lot in other countries. In their allegiance to the Devil, they denied the Holy Church of Rome and were considered heretics, the greatest criminals of the day. In Catholic countries there was one death only for heretics – the faggots to follow torture.
Tamar heard terrible stories of what happened to witches in other countries and she was glad of that shining strip of Channel which separated her native land from them.
The new King, it appeared, had undeniable evidence of bold witches who had dared work against his own person and that of his Queen. These witches had all but succeeded in drowning Queen Anne when she had set out from Denmark for her marriage to the Scottish King. Twice the Queen had attempted the journey and, just as she was within a few miles of the Scottish coast, a tempest had arisen and blown her squadrons on to the coast of Norway. When the disaster had been repeated, one of her captains admitted having taken on his ship a man who had a witch for a wife; and when a third attempt to reach Scotland was frustrated, there was no doubt in the minds of many that they were the victims of witchcraft.
The witch-wife of the sailor was burned alive with many of her companions, and when the King of Scotland himself set out across the sea to fetch his bride to her new home, his ship was all but wrecked off the coast of Norway.
Convinced that these tempestuous voyages, which had almost resulted in the death by drowning of himself and his Queen, had been the Devil’s work, the King had started an inquiry into the matter as soon as his marriage had been celebrated on Scottish soil. Many well-known witches were seized and under torture confessed to what they had done.
They had baptized a cat, making mock of one of the holy ceremonies of the Church; and then they had stolen parts of the bodies of dead men, and these they had attached to the cat’s legs. With the cat they had gone to the end of Leith pier, from where they had thrown the cat into the sea.
The cat had been a strong swimmer and had reached land in spite of its handicaps. The witches declared that this had told them that the new Queen would make port safely. The witches explained that the great Earl of Bothwell had been in communication with them; and it was rumoured that he attended their Sabbats, dressed as the Devil, and that he put on the power of the Evil One with his accoutrements.
The Scottish witches were strangled, and burned till there was nothing left of them but ashes.
This had happened more than ten years ago, and now this King and his wife and family had gone to London.
There were others besides witches to flout the authority of the State. The Puritans, Separatists and Brownists were now continually talked of. Tamar heard terrible stories of the ills these people suffered and had been suffering for years.
Persecution was rife throughout the land; not the hideous bloody persecution which had caused the name of Queen Mary to be spoken with shuddering contempt; but persecution all the same. In Plymouth men had been seized, torn from their families and thrust into prison because they had failed to attend the established church and wished to worship God in their own way. The prisons of London and most other cities were full of such men; they were left to starve in the pits and little eases of those prisons; they were set upon with cudgels and beaten almost to death; some were hanged.
Tamar, at fourteen, was budding into rare beauty, and although she was completely unlettered, her intelligence was fine and quick. She wished, therefore, to know of these matters of religion; and she was saddened because, being suspected of connexion with witches, she was hardly ever spoken to.
She knew something of witchcraft, for she had been an eager pupil of Granny Lackwell, who still sat on her stool in the cottage; Granny was getting old now and at times she would sink into a stupor and so remain for hours at a time; she would talk incoherently of flying through the air on a broomstick, of her conversations with Toby, her familiar, and a man in black who, she professed, came to visit her. Tamar had never witnessed any of these visits, and she was inclined to believe that Granny Lackwell was not right in her head.
Bartle was back from his sea voyage – a young man of twenty – tall and strong and very proud of a scar he bore on his cheek. His skin was tanned a light shade of brown which made his blue eyes quite startling. Tamar heard that he was such another as his father and that all the maidens of the town and the surrounding villages were ready to come when he beckoned. It was said that there would be many a child with the Cavill blue eyes roaming the streets and lanes in a year or two.
Once Tamar met him on the Hoe. His lips curled in recognition as she ran past him.
And now . . . Simon Carter the witch-pricker had come to Plymouth. Soberly dressed as became his solemn mission, he carried a Bible in his hand; and with him came a group of men to help in his work.
He stood in the square and told the people of the great work he was doing for God and the King. The country was suffering from witches. He could recognize a witch when he saw one, merely by looking at her; but he believed in justice, so he condemned none before they had been put through the test.
‘If any of ye know a witch, do not hold back that knowledge. And if any of ye have suspicions that your neighbour traffics with the Devil, then come forth and name them.’
Tamar stood on the edge of the crow4, alert, ready to run if any should look her way.
Simon Carter was a man who knew how to talk to simple people.
God, he explained, was all-powerful, but there was one – turned out from Heaven – who under God was greater than any. Goodness must prevail, because God was
the greatest power in the world; but evil unchecked could do great harm. Nor was God one to save from witches those who by their own folly – and he was not sure that he should not say wickedness – abstained from denouncing these creatures. For to give oneself to the Devil was to work against God. They were all God’s servants, were they not? Then let them show it by giving the information he sought.
‘Good people, have your crops ever failed you and you wondered why? Have your animals died of strange sickness? Have you ever been taken with fits and vomiting and strange sickness? You have! Then, my friends, you may take my word for it, you have been the victims of a witch’s, spleen. Think, men and women . . . think of those who live around you. Have any of them ever done strange things? Have you seen animals slink into their houses? Have you seen them collecting strange herbs and brewing odd concoctions? Have you ever seen or heard them muttering to themselves? Have you seen them going into the country at dark of moon? Come! As you would serve your King, as you value your health, your good living and that of your little ones . . . come and tell me of those who lead dark lives among you.’
Tamar slipped away from the crowd. The streets were deserted. It seemed that everyone was in the square. She knew that she was in danger. The old woman was in danger, and if they tortured her she would say those queer, incoherent things which she had said to Tamar. There was nothing she could do, for how could she take the old woman and hide her? It would be impossible to move her from the cottage.
She did not go back to the cottage, but lay stretched out on the grass, looking at the sea, trying to think clearly, to make some plan to save herself and the old woman.
But the desire to know what was happening in the town was too strong to be resisted, and she went back.
Already Simon Carter had six women gathered together in the Town Hall.
He talked continually.
‘Witchcraft, my good friends, is more often found in women than in men. The incubus and the succubus and any devil of Satan’s kingdom loves best the women. For women are weak creatures, more given to wickedness than men. They lack the brighter intellect which God has given men; they are more easily persuaded to wickedness. Strip the women of their clothes. My good friends, we will now search for the Devil’s mark. He stamps them with it to mark them his for ever. He will often put it in the most secret places of the body, so that it is necessary for us to search most diligently.’
One woman was protesting; she was young and not uncomely. But one of Simon Carter’s men had pinioned her, while another tore her garments from her.
‘And what,’ continued Simon Carter, taking the woman nearest him and forcing her on to her knees while he jerked her face roughly upwards and pulled at her nostrils to peer up them, ‘and what, my innocent friends, do these creatures do besides the evil tricks they play on you? They wallow in filth, my friends. They entertain strange creatures in their beds. There is the succubus who visits men and draws from them the seed of life; this they pass on to the incubus who visits these women and plants in them the seed contaminated by devils.’ He pushed the wotnan to the ground. ‘Come, woman, don’t be shy. Let your evil mind believe that I am the toad you welcome to your bed . . . the devil who comes to pleasure you . . .’
He gave a shout of triumph, for he had found what he called the Devil’s Mark. It was behind the woman’s knee in the hollow where the leg and thigh join. He chuckled with glee. Each witch he brought to the gallows meant fifteen shillings in his pocket.
‘Now, dear people, you shall see how I prick her. She won’t bleed, this one, for she has the witches’ mark on her. How do I know? Because, men and women, the divine power has been given me. I see a witch; I prick her for the sake of justice. But I know a witch when I see one. Oh, my brothers and sisters of this fair city, you will rejoice in remembering the day that Simon Carter came among you to rid your town of this curse.’
He dug a pin into the wart.
‘No blood!’ he cried. ‘This is devil’s work. If I prick any godly member of this city with a pin, what happens? The blood will spurt. But prick a witch and all the Devil’s help cannot save her. She will not bleed, because she is of the Devil, and her flesh and blood obey not the rules laid down by God. This witch shall hang on that fair stretch of green which overlooks the sea. Ye shall watch her carcass rot, and then, dear friends, when you have seen how justice can be done, you will bring more and more witches to me.’
Tamar could bear no more. She had listened to the horrible obscenities of the lookers-on. She was bewildered, for the name which had been called on more than any other had been that of God.
Nobody noticed Tamar; everybody’s eyes were on the naked women; they could only gloat while the searchers handled their victims, crudely exposing them to the eyes of the watchers while they muttered words of righteousness.
Tamar fled and did not stop running until she reached the cottage. Her mother was there with several of her half-brothers and sisters; she ignored them and went to the old woman.
‘Granny! Granny!’ she cried. ‘The witch-pricker is in the town. You must make a spell quickly. You must not let him come here . . . or he’ll get you . . . he’ll get me!’
The old woman was taken with great trembling; her jaw fell and her eyes closed; she sagged on her stool.
The others took no notice.
A few days later the witch-pricker came to the cottage with two of his men. A crowd from the town followed them.
Tamar heard them coming and made for the door, but she was too late; she could not run away without being seen, and she knew that to attempt to do so would call attention to herself.
Both Luce and Bill Lackwell were in the cottage with three of the children.
Simon Carter threw open the door and stood looking in.
‘Ah!’ he said, looking straight at Granny. ‘There sits a witch! ’Twouldn’t be necessary to look for the mark on her. Never saw I a witch who was more clearly a witch.’
Tamar in her corner, surrounded by her stones which she knew would have no power to protect her now, stared at Granny.
The old woman had recovered a little in the last few days; she had been able to open her eyes, but not to speak. The right side of her face was drawn down and she could not move her right arm or leg. Poor Granny! It was small wonder that Simon Carter was so sure she was a witch.
The two men seized her and pulled her off her stool. She fell forward, a dead weight in their arms.
‘She’s dead,’ said one of the men; and it was true.
They let her body slip to the floor.
‘It’s a trick!’ cried Simon. ‘She’s called the aid of her familiar. Take that cat and wring its neck. There’s devilry in this place. I can feel it. I can smell it. The Devil is right here . . . close to us, good people. Keep your thoughts holy. Say the Lord’s Prayer. That will drive him away quicker than anything. Now we must make sure this woman is dead, for witches play tricks, friends.’
They pulled open her rags and felt for poor Granny’s heart.
Tamar could not take her eyes from Simon Carter. His mouth was a straight line; his eyes glinted like points of light beneath his bushy brows which almost hid them. He was very angry. A dead witch meant a loss of good money and he had made the journey for nothing.
‘Good people,’ he said, ‘the Devil has taken this woman. It has pleased him to cheat us of justice.’ He turned his eyes on Luce, who was cowering against the wall. He continued to stare at her.
Someone in the crowd peering in at the door began to whisper.
‘Didn’t Luce Lackwell . . . you remember . . . Wasn’t it said? . . .’
Simon Carter, his ears as sharp as his eyes for the hunting of a witch, had swung round.
‘What was that, dear friend? The woman there . . .’
A woman was pushed forward. ‘Well, ’twas said . . . I couldn’t swear to the truth of it . . . but ’twas said . . .’
‘Come. Speak up, woman dear,’ begged Simon. ‘Remember your duty
to God and your country.’
‘’Twas the woman Luce Lackwell . . .’ She pointed at Luce. ‘’Twas said she were took by the Devil . . .’
Simon had turned to Luce, his mouth curved in a hopeful leer.
‘This woman?’ He lifted Luce’s hair from her face and peered into her eyes. ‘You cannot hide it from me. I have seen it in your eyes. There is the guilt. So ’twas you, woman, witch woman, who raised the spell that sent yon older witch to the Devil her master? Come, my men, search for the mark. I’ll warrant you we’ll find it in some secret place, for she is a woman of secrets, this one.’
Luce screamed as they tore off her clothes. In a few seconds they had her naked before them.
Tamar could not bear this. She had to get out of the cottage – not so much because escape was imperative to her safety, but because she could not bear to watch her mother’s shame.
She sidled to the door, and so intent was the crowd on watching Luce and the prickers that they did not notice who she was or what she was doing until she had broken through them.
Someone said then: ‘That’s the girl . . . the result of her mother’s evil union. Don’t let her go. She should have the test.’
Tamar ran as fast as she could; the thud of footsteps behind her terrified her, but she was fleeter than any of them and no one had any intention of missing the sight to be seen in the cottage.
At length it seemed that Tamar was free of them. The sun beat down on her and she felt sick and faint, gasping as she was to regain her breath. She did not know where to go until she remembered the stream which was in Richard Merriman’s private grounds. She thought of this man now in her extreme need. Not that he had taken very much notice of her when he had seen her; but there had been something in his look which made it different from the looks he bestowed on other children of the place. A faint curving of the lips which might have been a smile. She had often been to his house and received food and clothes, and she guessed that Mistress Alton would not have given those to her if she had not been afraid of offending her master by refraining from so doing. She felt that this gentleman was in some way her friend, so she would hide herself on his land while she thought of something she might do.