Witchborn

by Nicholas Bowling

  ‘Yes . . .’

  ‘And you were showing off about what a great sailor you were . . .’

  ‘Yes . . .’ Alyce could see a glimmer of amusement returning to Raleigh’s face.

  ‘We talked about the New World.’

  ‘We did.’

  ‘Take us there.’

  Raleigh stared at her.

  ‘Us?’ he said. Alyce could see the pity on his face, and it made her angry.

  ‘Solomon will make it. I just need a bit more time with him.’

  ‘Suppose he does survive . . . why the New World?’

  ‘I have nothing to keep me here,’ Alyce continued. ‘Neither does Solly. It would keep me out of the hands of Mary, out of the hands of the witchfinders. Elizabeth would never need to worry about her daughter turning up unexpectedly. A totally new life. Next time you cross the Atlantic, throw us in the hold with the rest of the cargo. Yes?’

  ‘Alyce, I don’t think—’

  ‘I mean it, Walter. I don’t want to live out my whole life in some English hovel, always fearing the knock at the door. There aren’t any witchfinders in the New World, are there?’

  ‘No,’ said Raleigh. ‘Not yet, at least.’

  ‘Well then.’

  A blank look of concentration crossed Raleigh’s face, as always happened when he retreated to discuss something within himself. Then, unexpectedly, he smiled. ‘Very well. I shall put it to your mother.’

  He got to his feet and put his hat back on his head.

  ‘Are you going now?’ said Alyce. ‘To Whitehall?’

  ‘Not just yet. I need to clear up some business here, first. Not least to try and explain to the guards why somebody fell from the highest window of the north-east turret this morning. But I will ask your mother when the occasion arises.’

  ‘Thank you, Walter.’

  He looked over Solomon’s body, smeared with unguents and covered in a patchwork of muslin. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to stay?’

  ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘I think I’d like to be alone with him.’

  He smiled sadly and bowed. There was nothing to be said.

  As the latch clunked behind him, a strange wheezing noise escaped Solomon’s blue lips. Alyce was suddenly on her feet. Pecke squawked plaintively.

  ‘Solomon? Can you hear me?’ She soaked the sponge in the bowl again, and dabbed at his brow. ‘It’s Alyce.’

  He gasped, and arched his back.

  ‘Solomon!’

  He didn’t make another sound. His chest rose and fell, rose and fell. And then just fell.

  ‘Solomon?’ Alyce whispered. She rubbed his cold fingers in her own, trying to force the life back into them. Then she laid her head on his chest, and let her tears fall on to his smooth, white skin.

  She didn’t know how long she stayed like that, but at some point she wiped her eyes and stiffened her resolve.

  Calmly, she got up and locked the door from the inside. Then she wiped her eyes, went to the desk, and produced the two books that she’d hidden away behind the Queen’s herb stores. One was the Necronomicon. The other was Doctor Dee’s commentarium.

  During Raleigh’s absence she had found her way down to the catacombs and searched among the debris of the Doctor’s grisly laboratory. It had been lying on a workbench, covered with his bloody fingerprints – a book no bigger than a diary, written in both English and his own system of runes and glyphs. In it were all of the secrets he had elicited from the black book. Explanations. Translations.

  Her heart was beating fast, her chest light and airy. She tried to shoo Pecke away from the bookshelf, but he simply hopped to one side. He cawed at her, and nipped at her hand, as though he knew exactly what she was going to do.

  But she didn’t have a choice, she told herself, over and over as she took her seat next to Solomon.

  Again the raven called out, louder than before.

  She ignored him, and flicked through the blackened pages of both books until she found the spell she needed. She rested them on Solomon’s motionless ribs, and then set to work.

  PLYMOUTH

  One month later

  Alyce had never seen the sea before. Something about the salt in the air, the creak of the galleys and the bustle of sailors brought blood to the surface of her skin, and made her hairs stand on end. Beyond the lines of masts and rigging, the gulls hovered idly over deeper waters, calling back to those on the shore, daring them to join them. Alyce felt like their cries were for her, and her alone.

  It was a grey, gusty day, but she could have stayed out on the seafront for hours. As she stared out to the horizon she felt a hand upon her shoulder, which then slipped down her arm and entwined with her fingers.

  ‘Come on, it’s freezing . . .’

  She turned around to see Solomon’s face, pink from the cold wind, his eyes and nose running a little. To look at him, no one would have any idea of what he’d been through. Just like he had no idea.

  ‘I like it out here,’ she said, and faced the sea again. Rationally, she knew there was no reason to feel guilty. Solomon was alive and well. That was all that mattered. Why did her belly squirm so much, then?

  He unclasped her hand. ‘Suit yourself. But Walter says the ship’s crew won’t be ready until midday, and he’s buying us all drinks.’ He smiled and sniffed loudly.

  ‘I’ll join you if you stop doing that . . .’ said Alyce.

  ‘I’m sorry. Handkerchiefs were not top of my list of things to pack for a voyage to the other side of the world.’

  Alyce fumbled around in the folds of her dress – a present from Raleigh – and produced a delicate square of lace, which she thrust under his nose.

  ‘Oh. Thank you.’

  Solomon sneezed loudly, and when his face came back up to meet hers it was contorted in pain. He put a hand to his heart.

  ‘Still hurts?’

  He nodded. ‘Let’s get you some wine then. The stuff here works more wonders than any potion I could brew for you.’

  The pair of them turned their backs on the wharf and wandered across the street, dodging the horses and carts and bands of rowdy sailors, until they reached the door of the Mermaid Inn.

  The common room of The Swan had been fairly sedate compared to this place. It was still morning, but the watering hole was full to its low warped rafters with men of fortune, and plenty of ill-fortune, who seemed to have started drinking the previous afternoon and never realized that the night had come and gone. Every face was weathered or scarred in some way, even among the cabin boys, who were younger than either Alyce or Solomon but looked at least twice as old.

  The timbers resounded with songs and jokes, and in the corner Alyce spotted Walter Raleigh laughing uproariously with an old seadog whose shirt was spattered with ale, and whose nose looked like a giant, withered plum. In his sleek grey doublet, pearl earring gleaming beneath his curls, Raleigh could not have looked more out of place. And yet the patrons of The Mermaid didn’t seem to care.

  He spotted them, made his excuses to the salty old gentleman, and ushered them both over to a table by the window. Thick and dirty as the panes were, Alyce could still watch the ships bobbing gently in the bay from where she sat.

  Raleigh left them for a moment and then returned with three cups of wine.

  ‘Savour this. Most wine has turned to vinegar by the time it’s crossed the Atlantic.’ He raised his cup in a toast. ‘To new beginnings.’

  They each sipped in silence.

  ‘How long will we be at sea?’ asked Solomon.

  ‘Ten weeks,’ replied Raleigh. ‘Maybe more, depending on the winds.’

  There was something odd about the way he looked at Solomon, Alyce had decided. Had he guessed something? Or was she imagining it? As far as he was concerned, Solomon’s recovery must have seemed more than miraculous.

  Solomon gulped down his wine and pulled a face, which might have been in reaction to the taste, or to Raleigh’s answer, or both. But then his face brig
htened and he leant in conspiratorially.

  ‘We do have a witch on board, though,’ he said. ‘I’m sure she can conjure us up some favourable weather. Yes?’ He turned and raised an eyebrow at Alyce, who looked back at him wearily.

  ‘I would keep sorcery to a minimum, young lady,’ said Raleigh. ‘Sailors are almost as superstitious as actors.’

  Alyce tried to change the subject.

  ‘When we arrive,’ she said, ‘what will you do?’

  ‘Stay for a little time. There are some of the Coven established there already. They will want news from Elizabeth. And of course, they will want to be in my charming company for as long as possible.’ He flashed her a smile.

  ‘But then you’ll return to England?’

  ‘Yes.’ He paused. ‘I will return when I can, but I suspect I will have to spend more time in London, now that Doctor Dee has all but exiled himself. I can foresee your mother and me working much more closely together. Perhaps, one day, she will make the journey to the New World with me.’

  Alyce nodded and stared out of the window at the dark slate of the sea.

  ‘It’s going to be strange, leaving without speaking to her.’

  Raleigh didn’t answer, but just stared into the depths of his cup.

  In the month since the events at the Tower, Elizabeth had not once managed to come and see her. Perhaps, she thought, that was something to be thankful for. She was sure Elizabeth would have known what she had done. Would have sensed something about Solomon. Or would have simply read the guilt on Alyce’s face.

  No, Alyce told herself, there’s nothing to feel guilty about. Solomon is alive and well. I had no choice. And then sometimes she’d catch herself echoing Mary Stuart’s words: It’s not unnatural. We define what is natural.

  When Solomon was fully recovered, both of them were smuggled out to a country house somewhere south of London. And still her mother did not visit.

  Alyce had also paid a visit to Mrs Thomson before leaving the city. Their farewell had been brief and awkward, since Alyce could tell the old innkeeper so little about what had happened to her, and where she was going. Martha, she was pleased to learn, had been given a whipping and then been dismissed from her employment, after it became clear she had betrayed Alyce to Hopkins and Caxton.

  Hopkins and Caxton. She shuddered to think of those two again. Raleigh had not deemed them worthy of a burial. He had ordered their bodies be wrapped in chains and thrown in the Thames – and this time made sure that Caxton wasn’t still breathing.

  They finished their drinks and talked of lighter matters, and Raleigh invited the plum-nosed man over for a game of cards. After an hour, they pushed back their stools and headed out to the wharf. Alyce’s stomach turned a small somersault when they reached Raleigh’s ship.

  The Gloriana was a small but beautifully formed vessel, with three masts and an extensive, ornately decorated sterncastle. As Alyce approached, the weathering and the damage to the carvings became more apparent, but she only found this more endearing.

  Way above them, looking ruffled and frozen at the top of the main mast, Alyce could see Pecke watching them come aboard. The raven had followed her everywhere since she had left the Tower. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about the way he shuffled around on the crow’s nest made it look like he was rather embarrassed to be sharing his perch with a ragtag band of seagulls.

  Raleigh shouted up to a man on deck, who seemed to Alyce the only person in all of Plymouth as well dressed as Raleigh himself.

  ‘Sir Humphrey! I have our two stowaways!’

  The older gentleman came to meet them as they came up the gangway, swaying a little with the rising and sinking of the ship.

  ‘Well met, Walter. Crew’s all accounted for, baggage and provisions are stowed, wind’s moving south-west. We’re just about ready.’

  Alyce turned to Solomon.

  ‘Are you sure you want to do this? You’re leaving a lot behind.’

  ‘Like what? Master Adams? Can’t imagine I’d be wanted back in the company after what happened at Whitehall. My father? He made it clear he never wanted to see me again years ago. And I feel like if my mother were around, she would approve of it. In fact, she’d insist on it. I could marry into royalty. Even my father couldn’t have a problem with that.’

  ‘Um. Who’s getting married?’ said Alyce. ‘No one.’ Solomon pulled at his ruff. ‘I just meant . . . It was a joke. I think.’

  Alyce laughed.

  Once they were on deck, Sir Humphrey took Raleigh to one side and they exchanged some words that Alyce couldn’t hear. Then he went up to the bows of the ship to oversee the rigging of the sails, to the obvious annoyance of the sailors hauling at the ropes.

  Raleigh turned back to the two of them, an odd look on his face.

  ‘The captain would like to speak with you in his quarters. He would like to get to know the character of his passengers.’

  Alyce and Solomon looked at each other and frowned. ‘I thought Sir Humphrey was the captain . . .?’

  ‘His cabin’s at the back,’ said Raleigh, ignoring her query and pointing. They both started off across the deck, but he put out an arm to stop Solomon. ‘Just Alyce, I meant.’

  Confused, she went to the door of the sterncastle, opened it, and stepped into the darkness beyond.

  The captain’s cabin was lit with a pair of oil lamps that hung from the rear wall and clinked softly on their chains as the Gloriana rose and fell. In the middle was a large desk covered with maps, a globe, compasses, sextants and other nautical apparatus, and behind it sat the captain himself, his head obscured by a broad, feathered hat, poring over the material in front of him.

  Alyce cleared her throat.

  ‘You wanted to see me, sir?’ she said.

  The captain looked up, and Alyce nearly choked. ‘I don’t know how you managed it,’ said a voice she had never expected to hear. ‘These breeches are just impossible to wear.’

  Looking back at her was the same white face that she’d last seen in the depths of the Tower, the same dark, sad eyes.

  Queen Elizabeth got up out of the chair and revealed her outfit in its entirety: a battered leather jerkin, a broad, black leather belt, some heavy-looking breeches that looked as though they were made of some sort of untreated animal hide, and a pair of knee-high boots.

  ‘Not very convincing, is it? You pulled it off much better, I think.’

  Elizabeth stepped forwards until she was in the lamplight, and Alyce saw her mother’s face clearly for the first time. Her skin was bleached and drawn, smallpox scars too deep to be concealed under make-up. She looked beyond weary, like poor old Master Makepiece, only more dignified. Alyce found herself pitying her, unexpectedly.

  ‘Forgive me,’ said Elizabeth. ‘For everything.’

  Still Alyce didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t angry any more. She didn’t know what she was. Maybe just a little sad, for both their sakes.

  Her mother took her hand. ‘You are brave. Braver than I am.’ Then she pushed a red curl out of Alyce’s eyes. ‘I wish my hair still looked like this.’

  ‘What would you have chosen?’ said Alyce.

  Elizabeth looked surprised. ‘What?’

  ‘When Mary asked you to choose – between me and the throne. What would you have chosen, if I hadn’t escaped?’

  ‘You, Alyce,’ she said. ‘You, a thousand times over.’

  ‘Why did you give me up, then?’

  Elizabeth took her daughter’s hands. ‘I didn’t give you up, Alyce. I had to keep you safe.’

  ‘Couldn’t I have lived with you in the palace?’

  ‘What, as a princess? Forever on show, forever having to conceal who you really are? I would not wish it upon anyone. Suppressing the Craft is dangerous. Far easier, far safer to be a witch away from Court, away from the city.’ She sighed. ‘Not safe enough, though, it would seem. Even with faithful old Pecke watching over you. Even with Ellen.’

  Alyce t
hought back to her cottage in Fordham, watching her mother feeding the scruffy black bird with scraps. Yes, she still thought of Ellen as her mother – couldn’t un-think it, even with her real mother standing right in front of her.

  ‘I still miss her.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Mary said that she could bring her back. From the dead.’ Only as the words left her mouth did Alyce realize she was talking more about herself than about Mary. It almost felt like a confession. Would her mother know, if she saw Solomon?

  ‘No doubt she could. Witches like her have spent centuries trying to defeat death. Dee was intent on the same thing, and you saw what that led him to do. You saw his laboratory. Bringing Ellen back would have been an abomination. It is the one thing we must never do, as members of the true Coven. We communicate with the Other Side, yes, and we may banish it wherever and whenever it spills over into our world. But that is all. We are here to ensure balance. Death is death. It is the end. And all things need to come to an end, at their proper time.’

  Alyce swallowed hard.

  ‘I was tempted,’ she said, as though that were at least halfway towards an admission of guilt. ‘To take Mary’s deal. To join with her.’

  ‘Of course you were. Who wouldn’t be? Death is with us from the moment we are born, whoever we are. The Great Shadow is always there. But we have to decide whether we treat the shadow as an enemy pursuing us, or merely a friend accompanying us. If you choose the first, then you will spend your whole life trying to outrun it, trying to defeat it – and you will never succeed.’ She paused. ‘I pity her. Mary. She has lost a great deal. And necromancy promises so much.’

  Elizabeth went back behind the table, and from under a pile of sea charts brought out a charred, leather-bound book.

  ‘We found this in the Tower,’ she said, handing her the Necronomicon.

  It hadn’t burnt, Alyce realized with horror. She shifted the weight on her feet nervously. The commentarium had gone up in flames as soon as it was in the brazier, but the black book had survived somehow.

  ‘Where did you get it?’ asked Elizabeth.

  ‘It was Solomon’s. His mother had it.’

  The Queen nodded. ‘I know of Anne Harper. I know she was deceived by Mary, like so many others.’