Cunning Women

by Elizabeth Lee

Bett gasps and presses her hand to her mouth, looking past where we shelter from view under the trees. I turn to see a woman, caught in the clutches of the magistrate.

  ‘Please,’ she cries. ‘Please, sir, I beg you, show mercy.’

  Magistrate Wright grips her arm, and uses the other to fend off a man attempting to pull her free. ‘The time for mercy is passed,’ he says. ‘Your sins have caught up to you.’

  ‘Please,’ the man says. ‘We are honest people. God-fearing.’

  A crowd gathers around them, standing a little back, watching silently. Bett and I do not move. ‘The Shaws,’ she says. Her face has paled to the colour of milk.

  ‘What have they done?’ I ask.

  ‘Papists,’ she says.

  ‘Your trickery has failed,’ the magistrate shouts. ‘Time is come to face the truth and away to the assizes. Where were you on Good Friday? Not here, the God-fearing folk of this village tell me, but about your own heathen rituals. There is witchery here.’

  Mrs Shaw sobs and shakes her head. ‘No, sir, as God is my witness, you have it wrong. I am no such—’

  A boy in the crowd points at her and shouts. ‘’Tis she, the one I saw turned to a hare that day, the one that tricked me away.’

  The ground tilts beneath me and I reach for Bett. She clasps my arm. This mention of the hare is too close to Dew-Springer for me to ignore.

  Mrs Shaw’s eyes roll towards the child, mouth agape. ‘No,’ she implores. ‘The lad’s mistaken, it was not me, as the Lord is—’

  There are shouts now from the crowd, accusations of her sorcery and evil doings. Mr Shaw tries again to reach her, muttering about God and prayer in a torrent of words that I know shan’t save either of them.

  ‘My will is that you be hanged for your sins,’ Magistrate Wright says. ‘And no doubt God shall ensure it is so.’

  She screams at his words, collapses to the ground, sobbing, almost taking the magistrate down with her. He turns a furious glare on those gathered. ‘Are you all also sinners, that stand by and allow the witch and papist to escape? Take hold this man and assist me in escorting them away.’

  I grip Bett’s hand. ‘But – they’re in church. How can they be …?’

  She shakes her head. ‘In church today. Never before.’

  I watch, I do nothing as they’re hauled away, she limp and silent now, her shoes leaving a trail on the dusty path. Gabriel helps the magistrate, his meaty hand clasped around Mr Shaw’s arm. I search for Daniel. No sign of him, nor Seth either. Magistrate Wright picked his time well.

  ‘Will they really be hanged?’ I ask.

  Bett wipes her eyes. ‘That is the punishment.’

  I cast my eyes over the crowd that lingers. Women who help me wash clothes in the beck, who ask after me when they come to bake their bread in the farm oven. Those same that have pushed me away, thrown stones and pulled my hair when, in my other life, I dared ask for a coin.

  My mind is playing tricks; it seems now that every face turns to me with suspicion. With recognition. And my fate, should I be discovered, is clearer than ever.

  The closer I am to the hill, the more I feel its shadow.

  I’m surprised there’s no scent of henbane from the house, and disappointed, for I’m desperate to hear good news from Seth.

  Annie runs from the door before I reach it.

  ‘I heard you,’ she says. ‘John said Seth was come but I knowed it was you.’

  She is warm and soft in my arms. Grown, surely, since last I saw her. I hold tight, breathe in the scent of earth and trees from her taffled hair.

  She frees herself from my grip, pulls at my petticoat, searches behind my back. Steps away, hands on hips, frowning. ‘Where’s the food?’

  The pack lies neatly tied, hidden behind my bed. In my haste I came straight from church. I pinch my own arm, hard. It’s not been so long since I lived here that I’ve forgotten how much that food is needed.

  I drop to my knees, take her hands. ‘I’m sorry, Annie. I forgot. I’ll bring it in the week.’

  She pulls away, chews her nail, deciding what she feels about this betrayal. Fingers the embroidery on my coif. ‘All right. I’m going to fetch something for you now.’

  She scampers off in the direction of the woods.

  Mam is stirring nettle soup, her back to me. ‘John thought you were Seth,’ she says, without turning.

  ‘I saw him this morning,’ I say. ‘He’ll be here.’

  ‘Knew as much,’ John says. He sits at the table, whittling a stick. ‘Struck by the melancholy last I saw him.’

  ‘And where was that? When you were about your wickedness in the village?’

  The accusation is out too soon, and not in the persuasive manner I planned. Neither of them move or speak, until Mam turns, wipes her hands on her petticoat and steps to embrace me. Her face is red and swollen, a deep scratch running under her left eye.

  ‘What happened?’ I ask.

  She glances past me to John. Waves a hand in dismissal. ‘Oh, a woman in the village. Swears I’ve cursed her belly to be barren. Dew-Springer was about an errand and not there to warn me.’

  John snorts. ‘The reason her belly shan’t bear fruit is more caused by the tastes of her husband than any curse, I’ve heard. Prefers to lie with his own kind.’

  ‘Oh, Mam. Have you used a salve?’

  ‘Of course, lass, don’t fret. Nowt we’ve not faced before.’

  She steps back and looks me up and down. Not so different from Annie’s inspection earlier.

  ‘I forgot the food,’ I say. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Bring us nowt but your interference, then,’ John says.

  ‘Because I’m feared for you, there’s talk in the village and I saw you—’

  He stands, stick dropping to the floor, but he keeps hold of the knife. ‘Easy for you, in your new clothes. You’re a village lass now, you’ve forgot what we must do to live.’

  ‘Whatever you’ve set upon Sam Finch you must call off. If he dies they’ll turn on you. They’ll come for you, all of you. Annie too, and a scratched face shall be the least of it. Even today the magistrate’s had a man and his wife dragged away, for less than this. You must listen to me, Mam.’

  ‘He hurt my flesh,’ she says. ‘His flesh will pay. It’s as simple as that.’ She glances at the floor by her feet. ‘That’s right, little one. You understand, and you’ve your role to play.’

  ‘But, Mam—’

  Her eyes like needles. I daren’t argue. Despair has me pressing tears away. Pain beats in my head, a darkness that I only hope I can hold back, tame and quieten.

  The door behind me opens and Mam gasps. ‘Out,’ she says. ‘Get them out.’

  Annie stands on the threshold, holding a cluster of scarlet flax and cow parsley. The smile on her face, as though it’s jewels she offers, falls and she glances down at the flowers, frowning.

  ‘Get them away,’ Mam says. Pushes past me and bears down on Annie, snatching the flowers from her and throwing them through the air and down the hill as far as she can. Annie stamps her foot, clenches her fists and bares her teeth, growling. Tears seep from her eyes and trickle down her cheeks. John laughs.

  ‘They were for Sarah,’ she shouts. ‘They were pretty.’

  I take her in my arms but she shakes me off.

  Mam leans against the door, panting, pressing her palm to her side. ‘Thought I’d brought you up to know better than that, lass.’

  John keeps his head bowed as he whittles the stick. ‘Never put red and white flowers together,’ he says.

  Annie looks up at me, her eyes awash. I stroke her hair. ‘Brings death to the dwelling,’ I say.

  What He Had Seen

  There was no news from the parson when Daniel spoke with him after church, though he expected word any moment. The waiting was unbearable, and Daniel woke each morning, well before dawn and wrung through by terrible dreams, praying that it would be the day their new life could begin. Under Magistrate Wright’s influenc
e this place had become one of fear and suspicion. The danger of discovery was greater with every day that passed, and he dared not think of what would befall them then.

  At last summer was nearing its end, and its tyrannical grip on his time. The wheat was now golden and brittle, giving a rich, dusty scent. It was ready to be cut, tied into stooks and stored. The stubble had dried and was harvested. Long days of labour and thin nourishment of bread and butter in the field were done. A goose had been slaughtered to celebrate and Bett and Sarah had cooked up a feast.

  On this first free night Sarah and Daniel at last had some time together, the air was warm and the riverbank empty. Sarah had taken no persuading to set foot in the water. She shed each layer and ran to immerse herself before her beauty was too long displayed. He hurried to follow, cursing as his eager fingers tangled laces, as he tripped on the uneven surface, and longing for the day soon to come, when their love need not be hidden.

  The cry came from the riverbank as they swam, and they both turned to see who it came from.

  Daniel squinted into the sun, feet reaching for the muddy bed as he shaded his eyes. Surely, he was mistaken. Surely, he had misheard.

  ‘Witch,’ it came again, a shriek that could not be ignored, no matter how the wind snatched it.

  The figure stood at the river’s edge. They were so entranced, they had not noticed. Had not cared to.

  Sarah’s arms reached pale under the rippling surface, her body a white blur that wavered below. Dappled sunlight lit her face. She kicked her way over to him, silver droplets of water falling from her lifted arms.

  ‘What’s this?’ she asked. ‘Happen a visitor.’

  Her voice was light, but her eyes hard, snapping a fire he had only ever seen when she felt Annie to be threatened. He was distracted still by the desire to slip his arms around her, bring her body to his own. She turned from him, glaring towards the bank.

  He peered into the sunlight again. ‘I – I think it’s—’

  ‘Molly,’ she said.

  It was, as he already knew, Molly Matthews stepping over rocks, closer and closer to the river’s edge until she was in danger of soaking her shoes, screaming into the wind. ‘You have bewitched him. Stolen and bewitched him. I will tell them all.’

  How did she come to be there? How did she know who Sarah was? His thoughts tumbled in a panicked cascade – what she would do next, what would happen to Sarah as a result. And to himself.

  ‘Do not be afraid,’ he said, though his own voice shook. ‘I shall talk to her.’

  ‘It’s she that should be feared,’ Sarah said, a cold flame in her eyes.

  She swam as far as she could towards the bank, then stood, rising naked from the river right in front of where Molly stood, water pouring in rivulets from her slick, dark hair. She raised a hand and pointed a finger. Molly was silenced.

  ‘You dare to call me witch. You, who knows I see the truth of what you are,’ she said.

  Molly whimpered and gathered her petticoats to her. Daniel, afraid to show himself to a person other than Sarah, stayed where he was and called for her to stop. She did not.

  ‘You took him,’ Molly shouted, words broken by sobs. ‘Used your sorcery and took him from me. If it had been him, all would be well. What am I to do?’

  ‘Swallow your foul words and never let them pass your lips again. Else your tongue shall blister and weep,’ Sarah said. ‘Each word shall transform into a bat, flying from your mouth and turning its teeth to you, filling you with the wickedness and pain you seek to inflict on me.’

  Molly screwed her petticoats up in her hands, face crumpled like a little child’s, body bent like an old maid’s. ‘I am already filled with it,’ she screamed. ‘There is none to help me now.’

  Sarah stepped forward, arm still outstretched, and Molly backed away, tears flooding, mouth gaping in fear.

  ‘Sarah,’ he shouted. ‘Stop.’

  She took another step, standing but an arm’s length from Molly. ‘Blood shall seep from your poisoned flesh, pool at your feet, pour from your fingers.’

  Her voice was lower, slower than he had ever heard it. As though another spoke through her. And the words, more vile than he had ever thought to hear from her, such foulness he could not believe she harboured within. Sunlight glinted upon the water until it was all he could see, each breath sharper, faster. He washed his face, blinked, forced himself to stay aware, that he might know what was happening.

  ‘Leave her,’ he called, his voice breaking. But she was unreachable. No longer the Sarah he knew, but a being unknowable and powerful. In this moment she was everything the villagers feared the family to be.

  ‘And all that you touch, all that you love, shall be infected,’ Sarah said.

  Molly sobbed, made to run, but Sarah reached out and held her arm fast, spun her round. Standing tall over the cowering girl, she took Molly’s chin in her hand, tipped her face and brought her own close.

  ‘Heed. My. Words.’

  She released her hold and Molly ran, tripping over a branch and falling, catching her head on a rock. He heard the crack from where he stood in the water. She lay unmoving for a moment and Daniel waded to the bank, scrambling into his breeches. He glanced at Sarah. She stood, watching. Where Molly lay a red stain spread slowly over the ground.

  She was moving before he reached her, holding her head and groaning, whimpering at the sight of blood when she brought her hand away.

  ‘You saw,’ she said, voice high as she clinged to him. ‘She moved the branch to trip me, it wasn’t there before, she used her witchcraft to do it. You saw, didn’t you, Daniel?’

  Daniel looked from Molly, to the branch, to Sarah. Her face showed no trace of what she felt. Had the branch been there? He could not say. He did not know what he had seen.

  ‘I – I think it, it must have been an accident,’ he said, hearing the doubt in his own voice.

  ‘She put it there.’ Molly’s voice rose to scream. ‘I would not have run into it, I looked, the ground was clear. She moved it, to punish me. You know what they say of the Haworths, how they steal your children and boil their bones to make potions.’

  Daniel helped her to her feet, glancing once again at Sarah. She stood as she was, did not take her eyes from them. ‘I think perhaps that’s just – ’

  ‘She has you bewitched,’ Molly said again. ‘She’s used her powers on you. You know it was the mam that conjured the storm and drowned their father, think what will become of you. Come back to yourself, Daniel. Please. Come with me.’

  She reached up unsteadily, balancing on her toes and pressing her hands against him. Kissed him on the lips. He shook his head, and she ran off.

  Daniel waited until Molly had gone, then made his way to Sarah. Turned her, afraid to see her face for fear it was transformed to that of the foul creature that had spoken through her, but it remained her own. White with cold, eyes wide and barren, but still Sarah.

  ‘What have you done?’

  Her empty eyes met his. ‘It came,’ she said calmly. ‘It was here but it didn’t take me over, I shared myself with it. I chose.’

  ‘I – what came? You’re not—’

  ‘The dog. It was here and I chose to let it be. It is part of me. But not how I thought.’

  He looked into her face, tried to see her as he always had. Tried to banish the mounting whispers of doubt.

  Spike of Hope

  Seth is a weighty burden, leaning on me as he does, but one I’m happy to carry. It is to him I owe all the happiness that begins now.

  I had walked up the hill to the scent of henbane lacing the wind, and pushed the door open to see him splayed on his back, arms wide.

  Though I dared not tell Mam, the talk’s been of Sam Finch’s recovery this past week. I knew in my heart it was not my appeal but Annie’s bringing of a death portent that made her leave off whatever curses or poisons she had been laying on him. I was still grateful. A mite less feared for them, for now at least.

 
Less feared about everything, for I felt a steady strength coursing through me, remembering how I opened myself to the power of the dog when I cursed Molly. I had begun to tame it, learned to use it for my bidding. And the terror in her eyes assured me that she would speak no more dangerous words about me.

  Seth lifted his head, blinked. ‘Little one, this is fortuitous.’ The words drawn out, as though torn from him, and slightly slurred. ‘I have need to speak with you.’

  My belly tightened, and I left off dreaming of my newly-conquered powers to focus on what was happening right before me. Seth had news and I prayed it be good.

  He sighed, reached inside himself and dredged each word out at an agonising pace. ‘I have heard from the family we spoke of. They would be grateful for the labour, and could offer board, food and a small wage in repayment.’

  I gasped air into my burning chest.

  He slumped his head down on his arms again. ‘I shall marry you tomorrow.’

  I rushed to Mam, threw my arms around her. ‘Oh, Mammy. It’s happening, it’s really going to happen.’

  She held me fast. ‘You shall be saved.’

  ‘We all shall. Though we must leave, Daniel has sworn we’ll send for you as soon as we’re able.’

  Mam’s face closed, a shield against hope. ‘That one of my childer should have such a life is more than I dreamed.’

  ‘We’ll send for you, Mam. And you shall come.’

  The words run through my mind still as we walk down the hill, his arm over my shoulder and the full weight of him leaning in to me, and I twist the ring around my finger. The smile remains on my lips, even as Seth talks in a constant, low murmur. I catch little, only half-listening.

  ‘The village is a good journey away, far enough that none may know your family,’ he says. I shift the weight of where he leans higher on to my shoulder. The back of my neck sore and dry from the sun. ‘Past Middon, you must go, you know of it?’

  I nod, lick my dry lips.

  ‘Past Middon, through Aldmore and then it is a way, a long way, with always the sea at your left, and then you shall reach a place called Blackop and, though the name be dark, it is a place of fish, fields and furrows and the people are good and honest to a one.’