by Deryn Lake
Despite the fact that the girl had been branded as a whore, there were many who wept. And more tears were shed when the remains of Mother Beeny, a kindly old widow woman, were discovered in the house next door.
It wasn’t until dawn that someone thought to ride to Baynden to fetch Richard Maynard, and it was over an hour before the yeoman appeared, heavy-lidded and smelling of drink.
‘Who started this?’ was all he could say. ‘Who started it?’
‘No one started it. It was an act of God. The violence of the wind simply fanned the flames to a frenzy. There was nothing anyone could do.’
‘You should have sent for me earlier. I would have got my wife out of there. She was coming back to me, you know. Our quarrel had been resolved and all was sweetness between us. And now she’s dead.’
Richard’s head sunk into his hands and his body racked with sobs. Despite the tragedy of the situation, Benjamin felt he had never seen anything more revolting. The yeoman looked as if he had slept in his clothes, so stained and crumpled were they. In fact he smelt as if he had not washed himself in a month.
Sir Thomas May had returned to the palace and it was left to Mr Luck, the vicar, to speak with the voice of authority.
‘The whole thing has been a tragic accident, Goodman Maynard. Be assured of our heartfelt sympathy and our prayers.’
Richard’s head rose and it seemed to Benjamin that he appeared quite mad.
‘Aye, prayers will be needed before this day is out. And prayers will be needed for the months to come. I know who killed my wife and son and I intend to have my revenge.’
‘What do you mean? What are you saying?’
‘That this is Devil’s work.’
There was an audible silence and then, for the first time, the constable spoke. He was new to the post, having only been elected and sworn at the last quarter sessions, and he was taking his unpaid honour more than seriously.
‘Are you accusing someone, Goodman Maynard?’
‘Indeed I am.’ Richard turned to look at Benjamin, who stood on the edge of the crowd, watching with a kind of terrible fascination. ‘I am accusing the wife of that creature there; that creature who raped my poor wife and let her be shamed before you all. I am accusing Jenna Mist of starting this fire by witchcraft, knowing full well that my family would perish.’
Into the murmur Maud spoke. ‘I say the Goodman speaks true. Why, Benjamin could not leave Goodwife Maynard alone. He was with her on the very night his wife gave birth. No wonder Jenna wanted revenge.’
‘These are very serious charges,’ said the constable. ‘How say you, Benjamin?’
‘That it is a monstrous tissue of lies. Jenna is still in her childbed. How could she have done this thing?’
‘It would not be difficult for the niece of Alice Casselowe,’ said Maud. ‘She had the evil eye. Besides, Benjamin, were you not yourself bewitched into unlawful love?’
He stared at her in horror, his mouth dropping open, unable to speak for the fury that was rising inside him. Finally he stuttered out, ‘My wife’s no witch. You are all liars. I was not spellbound. I married Jenna out of love, not magic.’
‘A strange love that allows you to commit adultery with the original object of your affections. I think there is a case to answer.’
Afterward Benjamin knew that he did the stupidest thing of his life, but he rushed past the constable and threw himself headlong at Maynard shouting, ‘You bastard. You evil bastard. This is some kind of plot, I know it.’ Then he smashed his fist into Richard’s face and had the great satisfaction of hearing one of the yeoman’s teeth dislodge.
Hard hands pulled him away and as Richard got up, cursing and spitting blood, there was a cry of ‘Look!’ and every head turned. Benjamin turned with them to see what was causing the stir and saw, to his horror, that Rutterkin had walked up the lane and now sat on the main track, cleaning her face with a long white paw.
‘And there’s the proof,’ cried Maud in triumph. ‘She has sent her familiar out to do her bidding.’
With a roar the crowd began to shout, ‘Witch! Witch!’ and there was a sudden rush away from the scene of the fire and towards the carpenter’s cottage.
Thirty
The first day of April, 1611, and already sweet, clean showers drenching the land: the village fresh and washed, the grass verges of the track glistening, the houses white, dark timbers fine as fingers; and through the village a witch-girl — black hair and golden skin and tall, lean body — being led by the constable to attend the presence of Sir Thomas May, Justice of the Peace.
In that April morning, the girl who walked to the palace, the girl full of love and kindness, the girl whose sweet babe lay wide-eyed in his cot, knew that she was about to be plunged into an abyss of darkness.
Jenna stood before Sir Thomas — neat-bearded, small, spendthrift, foolish — and said, ‘Sir, I know I stand accused, but pray tell me of what fault.’ And he answered, ‘Jenna Mist, if you deal plainly and confess the truth, then will you find favour.’
To which she replied, standing very dark and straight, ‘Sir, there is nothing on my conscience concerning the deaths of Debora Maynard and young Richard. Sir Thomas, tell me my fault.’
Then, very directly, he answered, ‘Jenna Mist, a book has been found. Even while you came here the constable’s man searched your house and, breaking the lock on a box, discovered this.’
Sir Thomas put his hand beneath his desk and drew out Alice Casselowe’s journal, thrusting it under Jenna’s nose.
‘Now what say you?’
‘That it is a book written by my great aunt who died in Horsham Gaol for her crimes.’
‘And you kept such a monstrous thing? Why did you not commit it directly to the flames?’
‘It was her life’s work, Sir Thomas. I could not bring myself to destroy it.’
There was a silence and they stared at one another, until Sir Thomas said, ‘And tell me, Jenna Mist, have you ever made any of the potions listed here?’
‘Yes, Sir. I have mixed the preparations for beauty especially at your wife’s request.’
It was the wrong thing to say and Jenna knew it at once. Sir Thomas’s brow darkened and he said, ‘Don’t try to be clever with me, girl. You know very well what I mean. Have you ever used the spells for bending the will of others? Remember, if you confess the truth you will be treated fairly.’
Jenna hesitated and Sir Thomas pounced. ‘Yesterday I examined both Goodman Maynard and Mother Maud. Both say that you bewitched Benjamin Mist to unlawful love, and the Goodman bore witness that he saw you return naked from a Satanic rite. The case against you is strong, Jenna. Did you bewitch your husband?’
A million thoughts went through the girl’s mind and she began to feel terribly afraid. If she persisted in remaining silent she could be punished just as severely as if she spoke. Whichever course she took she knew herself to be in great danger. Eventually she said slowly, ‘I did give Benjamin a love potion, Sir Thomas. Yes.’
‘More than one?’
‘I ... I ... can’t remember.’
Sir Thomas bristled with impatience. ‘You are making things very difficult for yourself, my dear. I have told you all along to deal straightly with me. How many potions did you give him?’
‘One a week.’
The Lord of the Manor leaned back in his chair and put his fingertips together, nodding. When he next spoke his voice held a soft, purring quality.
‘I am glad that you are beginning to see sense. Now let us speak of your familiar. From where do you give it suck?’
Jenna stared at him in horror. ‘What do you mean? I have no familiar.’
‘Oh I think you have. Is it not a white cat called Rutterkin?’
‘I have such a cat but it is a pet, a harmless creature.’
‘We shall see. You shall be examined for such marks, Jenna. And if they be found then further questions must be asked.’
If they be found! Jenna knew that any scratch o
n her body, any tiny pimple, mark or spot would be pounced upon as the place from which the spirit drank her blood.
‘Oh God help me, Sir Thomas,’ she cried out violently. ‘I am no witch. It is true I used herbs to win Benjamin’s love but this talk of familiars and such is hideous and untrue.’
‘We shall see,’ he answered again. ‘Now what do you have to say to me about the deaths of Debora Maynard and her child?’
‘Nothing. I was at home in childbed. How could I have had anything to do with it when I could not move?’
‘Quite easily, if you sent your familiar forth to do your bidding. And there are many who will swear that the creature appeared the next morning to see what results it had achieved.’
Jenna burst into tears, falling to her knees in distress.
‘Sir Thomas, I beg you to believe me. I am innocent of Debora’s death. Why should I want to kill her?’
‘Because you caught your husband with her in the act of adultery.’
‘But I have forgiven him that. He and I are reunited.’
‘According to the testimony of Mother Maud, Benjamin and Goodwife Maynard were still lovers. She saw them together on the very night you gave birth.’
Jenna hid her face in her hands. ‘They will not rest till they see me done for, will they? Sir Thomas, you must believe that I am innocent of causing the fire and its resulting deaths.’
His voice was frighteningly quiet as he answered, ‘Must believe? Why? Jenna Mist, by your own confession you practised witchcraft to procure an unlawful love. Why should I believe that you are not capable of far more serious crimes? I am not satisfied with your reply and I commit you to the ward and keeping of the constable for the rest of this day and night. Tomorrow, when I have spoken to other witnesses, I shall examine you further.’
Through her tears Jenna stared at him in anguish. ‘But what about my babe? Who will care for him?’
‘He shall be made provision for, never fear.’
‘But I do fear. I fear the web of false accusations that is being woven around me. I fear for my life if my enemies have their way.’
Sir Thomas stood up. ‘If you deal fairly and confess your crimes it will go better for you. Remember that when I examine you again tomorrow. Now, constable, take her away.’
*
Benjamin cried out when he saw Jenna leave the palace, walking between the constable and his man. He had waited outside, thinking she would be free to come home even if things should go badly for her. He had not suspected for a moment that she would be put in charge and taken away as a prisoner.
He had run forward to speak, only to be met with an abrupt, ‘Benjamin Mist, you are not permitted to talk to the examinee.’
‘But she is my wife!’
‘All the more reason.’
He walked along beside the trio, shouting, ‘But her babe needs feeding. She is suckling him. At least let me bring him to her breast.’
The constable and the deputy exchanged a look. ‘Very well, but just this once. After today you must find him a wet-nurse.’
‘Why? How long will she be in custody?’
‘That is up to Sir Thomas May.’
In a frenzy, Benjamin ran all the way home, picking his son up from the arms of a neighbour and hurrying back to the constable’s house. And it was by this quick thinking that he managed to get a few moments private conversation with his wife.
As she sat, her full and beautiful breasts naked as the baby took each in turn, the constable’s wife briefly left the room, and Jenna and Benjamin were alone.
‘My God, what’s happening?’ he whispered hoarsely.
‘Sir Thomas accused me of bewitching you to unlawful love — as well as causing the deaths of Debora and her child.’
‘What did you say?’
‘That I did bewitch you. Which is true! Oh Benjamin, forgive me for that sin.’
He shook his head impatiently. ‘I forgave you long ago.’
‘You knew?’
‘Of course I did — but that is not important. You should have said nothing. You should have stayed mute.’
‘But then I could be imprisoned for not allowing myself to be tried. Sir Thomas told me I would be dealt with fairly if I confessed. So I did.’
In the passageway the feet of the constable’s wife could be heard.
‘Oh Benjamin, what am I going to do?’
The door was opening and they could say no more. Very gently, Jenna took her nipple from the now sleeping infant. ‘Who will you find to feed him?’
The constable’s wife, a kindly enough woman, said, ‘Try Euphorix Hoodsby. She’s given birth — again.’
‘And who will look after him?’
‘I’ll take him to Daniel and Agnes. They will help us.’
Jenna smiled faintly. ‘Give them my love. All that is left, after my love for you.’
As Benjamin stooped to take the child from her, he bent his head — regardless of the beady eyes observing him — and kissed Jenna full on the lips.
‘I love you,’ he said. ‘And I shall stay close to you, have no fear.’
Just for a second they clung to each other and then the constable came in and they were forced to separate.
‘You must leave now, Mist,’ he said, ‘and I want no trouble.’
‘There’ll be trouble,’ Benjamin answered. ‘There’ll be trouble every minute of the day until my wife walks free again.’
Then he went from the room, carrying his baby, suddenly looking small and defenceless and as if he had no idea what to do at all.
*
As soon as Tom May broke the seal on his mother’s letter, he knew that he must return to Maighfield. Pleading a family bereavement he left Cambridge and came back to a Sussex village seething with unpleasant excitement. Villagers stood in whispering huddles, and as he rode up the main track and turned into the palace beneath the arch, he felt every eye on him. Defiantly muttering, ‘Whoresons!’ Tom waved his flamboyantly feathered hat and disappeared from their gaze.
The palace was strangely quiet and the young man guessed at once that his parents were quarrelling; and, as soon as he saw his mother, he knew the argument to be even worse than he had imagined. Jane May’s eyes were swollen with weeping and her normally ivory skin was flushed and mottled.
She flew to embrace him, holding him at arm’s length and thinking, in a proud and motherly way, that her son could not be more handsome if he tried. Then she said, ‘Tom, the news is so grim. Your father has examined Jenna Mist three times and she has confessed to bewitching Benjamin, though not to causing the fire and the subsequent deaths. He found, therefore, that she should be sent for trial and she has been taken to Horsham Gaol.’
‘My God,’ said Tom, sitting down, the idea that he must expunge some previous guilt by getting Jenna released so powerful that he could scarcely credit it. ‘What shall we do?’
‘Tom, I thought that you, of all people, might persuade Maud to change her statement. The old wretch has always had a soft spot for you and I do believe you could make her retract.’
‘You really think so?’
‘It is worth trying. Anything is! Why, I am so anxious to save Jenna Mist that I even thought of enlisting the help of Robert Morley.’
Tom looked at his mother thoughtfully, putting his head first on one side and then on the other. ‘I am not so sure that he would be the right person to go to.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Mother, the woman who died — Debora Maynard — I have a feeling that she was evil. I do not believe that she would hide at Glynde as long as she did without attending Master Morley in his bed.’
‘Tom, to say such things is slanderous!’
‘Nonetheless, I once had to lie for that girl. She begged me to say to her parents that an accident had caused her to spend the night at the palace. I was never more embarrassed in my life. So much so I could not find my tongue and Goody Weston stared at me as if I had interfered with her wretched daug
hter.’
At the very memory of it Tom’s speech defect became more apparent and his mother found herself having to strain to understand him.
‘Yes, but the Maynards are Master Morley’s tenants, as are the Casselowes. I think he should be informed.’
‘Very well. I’ll go to him if you wish.’
‘Oh, dearest Tom, if you would.’
‘And what of Goodman Maynard? You have not mentioned him.’
Lady May shivered, her flush disappearing and her skin ivory again at the mention of the name. ‘Don’t go near that man, there is something terrible about him. It is my belief, Tom, that he started the fire himself and then blamed it upon Jenna. I think he is a madman.’
‘But not so mad that he has not managed to destroy two women, if what you say is true.’
Lady May sat down, looking suddenly drained. ‘The fates are ranged against Jenna, Tom. I doubt that we will succeed in this venture.’
‘And what does her husband think?’
‘Benjamin? I do not know. Since Jenna was taken to Horsham he has vanished.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Tom, seating himself by his mother and sighing deeply. ‘I wonder what he is up to.’
‘Who knows?’ answered Jane May. ‘Who knows?’
*
With his mouth dropping open, Richard Maynard dozed before the hearth, the cup of wine he held in his hand tilting in his loosening fingers and spilling in a thin stream down his leg. He was almost unrecognisable from the man he had been a year before when, had he but had more colour in his cheeks and less in his lips, he might have passed for handsome. Now his half-closed eyes were glassy and bulging, his red lips slack and wet, his fair hair a filthy mat about his head. He smelt rankly of a mixture of stale perspiration, urine and sour feet, and his clothes looked as if he had slept in them.