Daughters of the Witching Hill

by Mary Sharratt

  "Gran's a blesser," I said, as I would say to anyone. "She's done nowt but good for folk."

  "I know, dear." Alice Nutter took my hand the way she had after church on Sunday. "But none of us in Pendle Forest can risk another accident like you had with that pedlar."

  Her words left me dazed. She believed what had happened in Colne Field to be a mere accident? What had Gran been telling her? Gran would weave any tale if she thought it could save me.

  "You must leave off the begging and wandering," Mistress Alice told me.

  "I would do just that, ma'am, if I could find steady, honest work."

  "I know you're a good girl who would do well at honest work given the chance. This Monday next, if you come to Roughlee Hall, I'll put you to work in my kitchen."

  "Mistress Nutter." My eyes filled, not believing my luck or her generosity. Given what secrets she hid in her house, she could hire only servants she trusted with her life and the lives of her children. I thought I would indeed fall to my knees and kiss both her feet, but she carried on talking, practical as my mam would do, saying that if I came early on Monday, she'd see if she could find another kirtle and coif for me and an apron besides and some pattens for my feet, and that I wasn't to be late. I swore to her that I would rise at daybreak and make straight for Roughlee Hall.

  Her face broke into a smile. "With God's grace, we may endure this, Alizon. Come hold my horse for me whilst I mount."

  So I held steady to the reins and saddle as she mounted up. When her chestnut roan mare nuzzled my neck, I laughed for the first time in a fortnight. Every part of me glowing with gratitude, I waved my farewells to Mistress Alice till she and her horse had passed out of my sight.

  Soon as she was gone, I flew into Malkin Tower and threw my arms round Gran.

  "What did you tell Alice Nutter to get her to take me as a servant? You charmed her, you did." I rested my brow against hers.

  "No, love. She acted from her own heart."

  Gran trembled hard as I did, for we both knew how close we'd come to ruin, only Alice Nutter had saved us. I swore to Gran that I would serve my good mistress till her dying day.

  Mam was best pleased when I told her the news.

  "I've no cause to worry over you anymore," she said, pulling me close. "You'll be sat on a lush meadow serving Alice Nutter. One month at Roughlee Hall, and you'll be too fat to fit through the gate."

  Over the moon, I was, to think of my good fortune—working every day in a warm, steamy kitchen and never knowing hunger again or the humiliation of begging or having some pedlar call me a whore when I'd wanted only to buy a few pins.

  Jamie asked if he could come along and work for Alice Nutter as well, but I knew that could never be, for he couldn't be trusted to keep the close secrets of her house.

  "I'll bring home plenty of cakes and pies for you," I promised. "You'll not clem."

  "Maybe you won't be coming home at all," said Mam, fair carried away in her excitement. "Mistress Alice might want you to live up at Roughlee Hall."

  My head began to spin at the thought of living in such a fine house, even if it meant sharing the servants' quarters in the attic.

  "Once you've served her a good few years and earned her trust," said Mam, always thinking ahead, "you might persuade her to take on our Jennet. Then my work will be done, knowing both my girls have a livelihood and a kind mistress."

  "And we'll both look after Jamie," I said, winking at my brother.

  Jennet remained sour, as she would do. "Alizon's been bad and she gets rewarded. I've been good and I get nowt."

  Gran gave Jennet a glare fearsome enough to turn her bones to ash. "Your sister was never bad. Now shut it."

  ***

  "You told Mistress Alice it was an accident," I said to Gran late that night after everyone else had gone to bed. "Was it then?" My heart swelled in hope that this stain could be taken from me, that I'd done no evil at all.

  "You're coming into your powers," Gran said. "You must learn to control them. Never speak out in anger like that again. Learn to hold your tongue. You'll go to Mistress Alice's hall where you'll be safe and looked after, but of a Sunday you'll come home to me and I'll teach you everything I know."

  I held fast to her hand. "The black bitch. What if she's dead?" I could just imagine someone like Baldwin stoning her.

  "A spirit is not a thing as can be killed, love." Gran spoke with a conviction that raised gooseflesh on my skin. "But we'll see to that later, after you're at Roughlee Hall and out of harm's way."

  Sunday morning I kissed the rose-coloured ribbon Nancy had given me before tying up my fresh-combed hair. "Wish me luck," I whispered, hoping Nancy would hear me in heaven.

  No matter what the other Holdens had done, I would always remember her with devotion as she had been my true friend. I vowed to keep her memory alive.

  Smoothing my hair into place, I set my coif on my head and danced in a circle. I felt like my old self again, no longer like some hounded boggart. If my kirtle was ravelling apart, then my Mistress Alice would find another one for me come Monday morning. I only had to make it through this day and then my new life could begin.

  Bright and eager, I set off for the New Church. Mam and I walked arm in arm, busy talking of my future and how much easier things would be for us. Jennet lagged behind, but we knew that if we ignored her, she'd catch up with us by and by. Jamie lurched about like a moonstruck calf, crashing into hedges and groaning about a mighty pain in his head.

  "The skriking," he said, "like a great number of children crying out."

  "Peace." I took his hand and tried to gentle him. "It's all right, love. We'll be all right."

  In the churchyard Mistress Alice nodded to us whilst Mam and I curtseyed to her for everyone to see. I looked round for Constable Hargreaves and, not seeing him, decided that the bloated man had taken ill. But Baldwin was there, staring slit-eyed at Mam and me as though he were some great hooded crow. I just smiled to him whilst ruffling Jennet's hair, the same mouse brown as his own, then smirked to watch him flush wine-red. Jennet swatted my hand and Mam pinched my arm.

  "Don't be too bold," she warned.

  So I ducked my head as a modest girl should and filed into church. During the Curate's sermon, I stifled a yawn, for he was even dourer than usual, making every excuse to rant of hell and damnation, as if his preaching weren't endless torment enough. Working himself up was the Curate, till his voice reached a feverish pitch that made our eyes snap wide open.

  "There are no accidents in God's design," he proclaimed. "Everything proceeds according to Divine Providence. Those that lead godly lives shall be rewarded in this world and in the next."

  Out of the corner of my eye I could see Baldwin smile, smug as anything.

  "Whilst those who turn their hearts and souls away from the true God shall be punished and brought low."

  Here the Curate hooked his eyes upon Alice Nutter. Feeling faint, I fingered Nancy's ribbon for comfort. With a prickle, I remembered my friend's drained face the day after Chattox had cursed her. I remembered Nancy's fingers gripping mine as she told me of her nightmare. I dreamt you were in danger, darkness and stench everywhere. I tried to help you but I couldn't reach you.

  "Sometimes God punishes the many," said the Curate, "for the sins of the few. Plagues and famine, storms and flood, and the deaths of those still young are brought upon us by the deeds of wicked souls. And so shall misfortune and calamity continue until we smite the evildoers in our midst."

  When the Curate looked straight at me, everyone else did too, their eyes like a thousand bodkins lancing my flesh. Our Jamie began to sway and yammer in the midst of the congregation, forcing Mam to lead him out the door. Then I was left with no family but Jennet, who gazed at me, cool and pitiless, with Baldwin's crow eyes.

  Counting the minutes, I was, till I could finally stagger out of that church, and when at last I did, three men awaited me in the churchyard, blocking my way to the lych-gate where Mam and Jamie wa
tched with huge eyes. Jennet glanced from me to them, then burst into tears. I gazed wildly toward Alice Nutter, who looked back at me, her handkerchief clutched to her mouth. But even she was powerless to rescue me now.

  Before me loomed Roger Nowell, looking a sight sterner than when I'd seen him last; Constable Hargreaves with his bull's jowls; and between them a strange young man, short and portly, in scuffed black riding boots. With sickening sureness, I knew he must be none other than Abraham Law, the lamed chapman's son.

  Gawping at the stranger, I saw his father again, the pain and fear etched on the side of his face that could still move. Like Jamie, I was half-maddened by the voices leaping about inside my head. Alice Nutter's voice, patient and wise, was telling me that what had happened that day in Colne Field was an accident, no more—that was what a just person would believe. But in his sermon, the Curate had decreed there were no accidents.

  "Alizon Device," said Roger Nowell. "Abraham Law, cloth dyer of Halifax, Yorkshire, has summoned me and Constable Hargreaves to bring you to his father, John Law, chapman of Halifax, who lies half-crippled at the Greyhound Inn in Colne."

  Before I could say a thing, Constable's fat fist closed round my wrist, and I had to rush to keep up with his quick pace as he marched me out the lych-gate to the waiting wagon. I wrenched my head round to take one last glimpse of Mam, weeping whilst Alice Nutter held her shoulders.

  The horses strained to drag the wagon along the road, muddy with spring rain. Every so often the Constable and Abraham Law had to leap off and push the wheels free of the mire whilst Roger Nowell stayed aboard to keep his eye on me. So frightened I was, my bones knocking together, that I didn't dare look at him. But when the other men's backs were turned, Nowell cupped my chin and raised my face, giving me a look that was almost fatherly. Odd though it might sound, there was something in his eyes that reminded me of Gran. He looked as though he possessed some of her understanding as to the secrets folk buried in their hearts.

  "When we reach the inn and you face the chapman," he whispered, "speak from the heart and tell the truth. With any luck his son will be satisfied and let it lie."

  "Thank you, sir," I whispered back, smiling shy at him, but remembering to hang my head when Hargreaves and Abraham Law clambered back into the wagon.

  When we reached the Greyhound Inn, Hargreaves made to haul me down from the wagon, but Nowell stayed his hand.

  "No need to manhandle the girl," said the Magistrate. "I doubt she'd be foolish enough to make a run for it in front of so many witnesses. Would you, Alizon?"

  "No, sir," I promised him.

  Obedient as anything, I followed Abraham Law whilst Hargreaves and Nowell followed behind me. We entered the inn, crammed with half the people of Colne, so it seemed, but at Nowell's word, they jumped aside to clear our path. Abraham Law led the way up the stairs, then down a corridor, and finally into his father's room. Even that small chamber was packed: the innkeeper and his sons were there, as well as a scribe sat with his goose quill and parchment. In the midst of it all John Law lay upon a four-poster—the rumour went that Nowell himself had paid to put the man up in the Greyhound's best room. Master Law was no longer fat as I remembered, but wasted-looking, as though he had hardly eaten or touched ale since I saw him last. Though he was still lame and frozen down his left side, both his eyes could move again. He stared at me with such rancour that I wished myself dead.

  "John Law," said Roger Nowell, speaking calm and even, with none of Hargreaves's heated huffing. "Here before you stands Alizon Device. Is this the girl you met in Colne Field on Wednesday, eighteenth of March, and who spoke to you before you fell lame?"

  "Aye, that's her all right," said the chapman, his every word dripping in venom.

  "Would you care to make any accusation regarding this girl?" Nowell asked him.

  "She bewitched me, plain as day. I was struck down after trading words with her and you can see for yourself I'm still crippled for it."

  Roger Nowell turned to me with his unruffled face as though he were as fair-minded as King Solomon and asked me, "Alizon, what do you say to this?"

  I remembered what he'd said to me in the wagon, bidding me to be truthful. When I looked at the chapman's racked body, my eyes filled. Whether what happened that day was an accident or whether it was due to the powers come out of me that I could not control, he had suffered just the same and I was sorry for it. I clasped my hands and fell to my knees.

  "Master Law, I am so very sorry. I beg your forgiveness." With the powers inside me I felt his pain as though it were my own.

  The pedlar finally spoke up, brusque but not unkind. "Right then, lass. I can see your regret is genuine. I forgive you."

  A mighty muttering filled the room. Abraham Law bent to say something in his father's ear, but John Law held up his good hand to call for silence.

  "She's only young, Magistrate. Send her home to her mother for God's sake."

  Master Nowell seemed as astonished as everyone else. "Alizon Device, you are free to go."

  Thanks to God's grace and John Law's forgiveness, I ran home to Malkin Tower. The very air I breathed seemed to spin and crackle with blessing, and then I knew in the depths of my heart that Gran's prayers and charms had warded me this day like a great invisible hand. When I burst in the door, Gran let out a shout and I cried into the crook of her neck. Afterward Mam embraced me and held me firm and safe.

  "Tomorrow morning you'll go to Mistress Alice's. The Constable and the Magistrate will dare not trouble you there. She's a rich woman. Her lands rival Nowell's."

  I tried to ignore the niggling in my belly, remembering how the Curate had singled out Alice Nutter in his sermon, saying she would be punished for being true to the old faith. If she was wealthy, she was also guilty of high treason, hiding that priest—a far greater crime than witchcraft even. If Nowell chose to turn against her, she too must submit to his judgement. But then I recalled Nowell's fairness to me that very day, and I trusted that he would not persecute so virtuous a woman as Alice Nutter so long as she took pains to remain discreet and not make a display of her popery. If he were to arrest every Catholic in these parts, Nowell would have to take on Henry Towneley, the Shuttleworths of Gawthorpe Hall, even the Southworths of Salmesbury.

  Our Jamie twirled round the room with me, so happy he was to see me. "Come Good Friday, I'll conjure up the name of your black dog and call the spirit back to you."

  "Hush, Jamie," I begged him. "If you want me to stay out of harm, you must never speak of such things again."

  17

  MONDAY MORNING I rose at first light, got myself up neat and proper as I could, and tied my hair with Nancy's ribbon.

  Mam and Jamie wanted to walk with me to Roughlee Hall and watch with their own eyes as I passed into Alice Nutter's protection. So I kissed Gran goodbye and with her blessing set out the door. My brother slowed his long-legged pace to walk beside Mam and me whilst Jennet trailed behind.

  "Walk smart, lazy bones," I called out to her. "When we reach Roughlee Hall, our Mistress Alice will give you something wondrous to eat."

  We were a mile from Roughlee when a wagon drawn by whipped and foaming horses overtook us, then drew to a halt, blocking our way. Richard Baldwin and Constable Hargreaves jumped out.

  "Alizon Device," said the Constable. "You must come to Read Hall. Roger Nowell wishes to examine you regarding the charge of witchcraft brought forward by John Law."

  At that moment I took the man for a bigger simpleton than our Jamie.

  "Master Law forgave me, sir." I'd a fair struggle not to show him any impudence. "He said so in front of a whole room of witnesses. Master Nowell himself said I could go free."

  I made to squeeze past the Constable, but Baldwin thrust out his whip to block my way.

  "You also so much as admitted in front of all those witnesses," the Constable said, "that you were guilty of bewitching the man."

  "I never did!" My eyes darted to Mam's, wanting to tell her that the C
onstable was lying, not me.

  "You begged his forgiveness," said Constable Hargreaves. "Why would you do such a thing if you hadn't bewitched him in the first place? An innocent soul has no need for forgiveness."

  I opened my mouth to protest further, but the Constable cut me off.

  "If John Law forgave you, his son will not let the matter rest. Abraham Law has asked us to proceed with the examination."

  "But I'm bound for Alice Nutter's," I told him as though her very name were the charm that could release me. "I gave her my word I'd begin in her service this very morning, sir."

  Baldwin laughed. "Witches cling to Papists as flies to dung."

  The Constable ignored him. "Get in the wagon, Alizon. You are under arrest."

  I turned to Mam, whose temper was rising, her wayward eye bulging as though she were set to murder Baldwin and Hargreaves then and there.

  "Give my love to Gran," I told her, speaking fast before the men could silence me. "Ask her to pray for me."

  "Ask her to work witchcraft on your behalf, you mean. Your grandmother's so-called prayers killed my daughter." Baldwin brandished his whip, but Hargreaves told him to put it away.

  "Nowell won't be happy if he sees she's been molested," the Constable said.

  Climbing into the wagon, I was thankful that Nowell, at least, was a just man. Perhaps this could still be made right and tomorrow I could begin my service at Alice Nutter's. I lifted my hand to wave goodbye to my family, only Baldwin and Hargreaves were ordering my mother and brother into the wagon.

  "The Magistrate wants to question Elizabeth and James Device as well," said Hargreaves.

  "Run along home to Gran!" I shouted to Jennet, who was stood there crying. "Run along, poppet! Now!"

  My nine-year-old sister took herself off before the men could change their minds and drag her along to Read with the rest of us.