Charms of a Witch

by Marina Oliver

  Lucy shook her head, speechless, but Mistress Smith persisted and eventually, to stop her importunings, Lucy took the drink.

  'I cannot eat,' she protested as Mistress Smith tried to persuade her to have some food.

  The old woman nodded sympathetically.

  'Stay here, then, by the fire. I will go to the village and make arrangements.'

  'I would be most grateful,' Lucy whispered. 'I do not know what to do.'

  'Stay you here. I will see to it all.'

  And she did just that. The Minister came and arranged for the funeral to take place in two days time, made the inventory of the cottage, and dealt with Mistress Dean's will. The carpenter was called to make the coffin, neighbours sat with the body, and Mistress Smith insisted that in the meantime Lucy remain with her.

  On the next day Jem called, and Mistress Smith supported him when he asked Lucy to go for a walk with him.

  'You must not mope inside. 'Tis a fine day for the time of year, and you must get some of those roses back into your cheeks. Go with Jem, there's a good lass.'

  Lucy consented, uncaring, and they walked in silence for some time. Then Jem stopped, and Lucy looked up at him enquiringly.

  'Lucy,' he began awkwardly. 'I know this is not the right time to ask you, but I have good reasons, believe me. I wish to protect you.'

  'Protect me? From what? Sorrow, grief?'

  'No, no. I cannot do that, I know it well. 'Tis something I dare not speak of, but Lucy, my dear, I want you to know I am anxious to wed you, whenever you wish it.'

  'Jem, not now!' Lucy exclaimed, but he went on remorselessly.

  'I have said I realise 'tis not the time, and I do not wish you to answer me now, but remember it, please. Lucy, I cannot say more, but you will be safe as my wife.'

  'Safe? I do not understand you, Jem. Please, let us go back. I cannot think of such a thing now.'

  'Lucy, I love you,' he said simply, as he turned to walk back to the village.

  *

  Lucy scarcely heard. She was in a state of shock, and afterwards remembered little of the two days before the funeral. She was stupified with misery, but gradually the kindness of Mistress Smith warmed her and she was able to follow her grandmother's coffin to the church with dry eyed composure.

  Many of the villagers came to the burial, several Lucy had not seen before. Most of them said a few words of sympathy to Lucy, and she tried to answer suitably. Jem was there, but apart from an encouraging smile at Lucy he did not attempt to speak to her. His mother was with him. Jem was like her in feature. She was dark and swarthy, large boned and angular. Her hair, once black, was now iron grey.

  As the Minister proceeded with the burial service, Lucy was conscious of Agnes' gaze riveted on her. She glanced across the grave to where Agnes stood on the edge of the group of mourners once or twice, but discomposed by the penetrating stare, hastily averted her eyes.

  As the sprigs of rosemary were tossed into the grave at the conclusion of the service, Mistress Smith took Lucy's arm and turned her away.

  'We will return to my house for the feast, my dear,' she said, and Lucy looked at her in alarm.

  'How many are coming?'

  'I must ask all those who sat with your grandmother for the past two days,' Mistress Smith answered, 'but do not fear, they are unlikely to stay long.'

  Lucy nodded, and attempted to speak with the villagers as they trooped along the road to Mistress Smith's cottage, but their replies were monosyllabic, and they retreated from Lucy as quickly as they could. Most of them were carrying contributions to the feast, and it seemed to Lucy that everyone who had been in the churchyard was coming with her. She looked round. Jem and his mother were in the middle of a group, but Jem seemed to be avoiding her, and there was no comfort for Lucy there.

  At Mistress Smith's house they all crowded into the parlour and the kitchen, and the talk for a while was about the dead woman. Lucy heard many references to her goodness, but also comments of pity for what were described as her misfortunes and sorrows.

  Earlier the Minister had found the will left by Lucy's grandmother, and in it there were several bequests of small items to her friends in the village. By now Lucy knew who most of these people were, and she approached them one by one telling them of her grandmother's wishes, and suggesting they called round to her cottage on the following day to collect the small mementoes. Mostly they nodded with a brief 'Aye' or 'Thank you', and Lucy was feeling hurt and puzzled at their reactions. Then she approached Mistress Tanner, and had just told her of the gift when a harsh voice from behind her made her spin round.

  'Be advised by me, Goody Tanner, accept nought from this girl, 'tis like to be bewitched!'

  A gasp arose from several throats, and Lucy opened her eyes wide in amazement.

  'What did you say?' she breathed.

  'You heard.'

  It was Agnes, standing hands on hips, looking down at Lucy.

  'I would not have my friends harmed by accepting gifts that are bewitched.'

  'Are you saying I would bewitch them?' asked Lucy, horrified.

  'It is likely, is it not? Like mother, like daughter.'

  'Will you explain what you mean?' Lucy said sharply.

  'It does not need explaining. Your mother was fortunate to escape the gallows, and no doubt you have inherited her powers, and made your own pact with the Devil.'

  'I know not what you mean,' Lucy exclaimed angrily.

  She looked round at the faces of the other villagers. What she saw there caused her to step back in alarm. They were gloating, animated in her presence for almost the first time since she had met any of them. She looked from one to the other.

  'You believe I am a witch?' she asked incredulously. 'What makes you think such?'

  'Do not play the innocent with us. You are the spawn of the Devil, and those that have aught to do with you have only themselves to blame if evil touches them.'

  Lucy shook her head in denial. 'You are wrong, and wicked to say such things.'

  'You mother was tried as a witch!'

  'I never knew my mother, but how could she be a witch? I do not believe that! Do you all think she was?'

  She looked round, and though she fancied she saw traces of pity in one or two faces, they all kept silent. Mistress Smith was standing at the back of the room, looking distressed, but would not meet Lucy's eye, then suddenly, to her relief, support came.

  Jem, who had been sitting in a corner unnoticed by Lucy, stood up and came to her, put his arm round her shoulders, and looked firmly at his mother.

  'You are wrong, and you will regret this,' he said. 'Lucy is no witch, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself, dragging up old hatreds.'

  'It would seem she has been using her charms on you already,' one of the village women said shrilly, but cringed back in alarm as Jem turned angrily to her.

  'Shut your mouth, woman!' He looked round at the rest of the villagers. 'I warn you all, if anyone illtreats Lucy, or slanders her, they will have me to deal with! Come, I will see you home.'

  He pushed a way through the crowded room to the door, half carrying Lucy with him. She closed her eyes to shut out the horror of the scene, and went with him unresisting.

  Outside she stood still, breathing deeply the fresh, cold, frosty air, then as Jem's arm tightened a little about her, she turned to him.

  'Thank you Jem. I did not understand what it was about. Thank you for getting me out of there.' She shuddered.

  'Come, I must get you home.'

  They moved quickly along the road and into the cottage that now belonged to Lucy. Jem pushed her towards the kitchen.

  'I will warm some ale,' he said. 'Sit you down.'

  Thankfully Lucy collapsed onto the stool beside the table, and watched Jem as he blew on the fire and set a tankard of ale on the hearth. Taking a poker, he thrust it into the heart of the fire and squatted there watching it until it was red hot, then plunged it into the ale. He set the tankard before Lucy.

>   'Drink,' he ordered, and scarcely aware of what she did, she obeyed.

  'Bar the door when I am gone,' Jem said, and Lucy nodded.

  'Do not fear for me, Jem. I shall be all right.'

  'I trust so, but I will come to see you tomorrow.' Lucy nodded and smiled her thanks. 'I must go now.'

  'I will see you out.'

  First Jem made certain the back door was securely bolted, and then went to the front door accompanied by Lucy.

  'I am sorry it was my mother,' he said to her quietly, 'but I will see to it that no one harms you.'

  She smiled and did not protest when he put his arms about her and kissed her lightly on the lips.

  'Goodnight, my dear,' he said. 'Bar the door immediately I am gone.'

  He opened the door and stepped out. It was nearly dark. Lucy did as he had told her and then, despite the early hour, took her candle and went up to her own room, exhausted with the grief of the last few days and the horror of the last hour.

  Lucy slept long, and woke at dawn. She rose and dressed, and after breakfast resolved to visit Mistress Smith, and try to discover from her the meaning of Agnes' accusations.

  Mistress Smith's cottage was a short distance away from her own, and she had not quite reached the gate before she was accosted by the voice of Agnes Perkins.

  She looked up. Agnes was standing on the doorstep of Mistress Smith's cottage.

  'What do you here?' the woman demanded.

  'What right have you to question me?' Lucy replied, determined not to give the woman the satisfaction of frightening her.

  'Do not answer me back, or you will regret it,' Agnes stormed at her, 'and keep away from my son.'

  'Is he not old enough to choose his own friends?' Lucy asked angrily.

  'Aye, if the choice be freely made.'

  'What mean you by that?'

  'If he is not bewitched!'

  'I do not think he will heed you, and if he wishes to continue my friend I shall not prevent him.'

  'I shall make sure you regret it.'

  'What can you do?' Lucy asked scornfully.

  'I shall report you to the magistrates, and accuse you of having illegal relations.'

  Lucy narrowed her eyes. What could the woman mean?

  Agnes continued. 'You pretend that you do not know it, but with the powers the Devil gives you no one would believe you could not know.'

  'Know what?' demanded Lucy.

  'That Jem's father is also your father!'

  This shook Lucy. She stared at Agnes.

  'Jem's father? Your husband? You are saying he is also my father?'

  'Yes, that witch your mother stole him, and took him away from me. Would you like me to report this to the magistrate?'

  'Jem is but a friend, you could report nought else,' Lucy said, and turning on her heel, walked briskly back to the cottage leaving Agnes shouting abuse at her back.

  *

  Lucy tried to distract her mind from this possibility Agnes had opened up by tidying the cottage, but the hours passed very slowly, and she was relieved when, soon after dinner, Jem appeared at the door.

  'Come in! I am so glad to see you,' Lucy greeted him, and he smiled at her.

  'Are you feeling better now?'

  'I know not. Things are perplexing me more and more. Jem, do you know the truth of it? Your mother – '

  'Aye,' he interrupted. 'She told me she had seen you again. What was it she tried to frighten you with?'

  'She said that your father was also mine. Jem, is it true? Could it be true? Do you know aught of it? Please, Jem, there is so much I do not know, and now that grandmother – ' she paused, then went on firmly, 'that she cannot tell me, I have no one to turn to. If you know the truth, please tell me.'

  'Sit down, Lucy, I will tell you what I know, but 'tis not a great deal.'

  They sat down either side of the kitchen table, and Jem began.

  'I can only remember what I have been told, since I was only six or seven at the time, and did not take much heed of what went on. From what I hear your mother was very pretty, like you, and my father had a roving eye. My mother was exceedingly jealous, and accused him of being attracted to your mother. She maintained your mother had used love potions to ensnare him.'

  'She accused my mother as a witch?'

  'Aye, but your mother escaped, nought came of it. 'Twas after that, I believe, she went as a maid to Anstey Manor, and we saw very little of her in the village. When you were born my mother was in a fierce rage against my father. That I can remember. They had many fights when I was a young lad. 'It was later my father seemed not to care, and did not answer her when she tormented him.'

  'You knew of this?'

  'I knew of my mother's suspicions, but they were not true.'

  'How can you be certain.'

  'When father was dying, he swore he had never known your mother carnally. He could not be your father. Lucy dear, I feared you might be accused of witchcraft through my mother's mad jealousy, which has not diminished. But if you were my wife, you would be safe, she would not dare to accuse you.'

  'Your mother would never accept me.'

  'That would not matter to us. We could live at the farm. We need not see her.'

  'I do not love you, Jem. Even if 'tis not true, I do not love you. I could not marry you, I am sorry.'

  'I have chosen a bad time. I will continue to be your friend, and some day you will change your mind.'

  Lucy shook her head. 'No, Jem, do not entertain any hopes. But I will be glad of your friendship. Thank you for that.'

  Jem left her soon after that, promising to continue his visits. He again kissed her, before she realised his intentions, and Lucy was disturbed at this attitude of ownership he was beginning to display, but she did not rebuke him, being so short of friends.

  *

  Chapter 6

  Two days later Lucy braved the village. For some time the spit over the kitchen fire had been giving trouble. It was very worn, and she decided she would take it to the blacksmith and ask him to make another.

  The few villagers she saw on the way to the smithy did not reply to her greetings. They either stared as though she were not there, or looked away and refused to acknowledge her. Disheartened at this evidence that Agnes' accusations were believed, Lucy made her way slowly across the green. The blacksmith was a brawny young fellow, and Lucy was relieved when he smiled at her as she approached. She waited while he finished shoeing the horse which stood patiently outside the forge, and then he turned to her, wiping his hands on his apron.

  'What can I do for you, Mistress Dean?'

  'The spit is almost worn through. Can you make me another the same size?'

  'To be sure. I will have it ready for you tomorrow.'

  'Thank you.' Lucy smiled at him warmly in gratitude for the ordinary friendliness he had shown, and turned with a lighter heart to make her way back to the cottage.

  Some children were playing at the edge of the pond, and as Lucy drew near she heard the frightened mewing of a kitten. She looked more closely, and stopped. The children were gathered round one who held a tiny kitten in his hands. Another child had some twine and was attempting to tie the creature's tiny legs together.

  'Swim the witch! Swim the witch!' the others were chanting, jumping up and down in excitement. The children turned towards the pond, and the one holding the kitten bent down. One of the others held on to his smock, and he leant as far as he dared over the water, and let go the kitten. The children crowded round.

  'She's sinking!'

  'No, there she is.'

  'She sinks, I tell you. There, she's innocent.'

  'No, she floats, she is guilty!'

  'Swim the witch!'

  Suddenly one of the children spied Lucy.

  'There is the witch herself,' he cried, just as Lucy began to run towards them.

  The children looked up in alarm and then, with cries of terror, scattered, but Lucy ignored them. She reached the edge of the pond an
d looked down just as the kitten came to the surface. Its struggles had brought it nearer to the bank, and Lucy was easily able to scoop it out. The children had not been very successful in tying its legs together, and the twine hung from one of them, but the poor animal, skinny, wet, bedraggled and terrified, struggled furiously in Lucy's hands, which were badly scratched by the time she managed to hold the kitten in such a way that it could not attack her.

  Crooning gently to it, she sat there on the bank, and gradually the creature relaxed. Lucy rubbed it gently with her cloak, and the fur dried, and instead of a scrawny rat-like creature a fluffy black ball emerged. When the deep throated purr began, Lucy smiled in triumph, and holding the kitten gently but firmly, she stood up.

  'I cannot leave you here, puss. I will take you home with me. We will be company for one another.'

  Concentrating on her new companion, and ignoring the children who had reappeared from their hiding places and were regarding her with awe, she walked slowly along the green, not noticing the horseman who was sitting in the shelter of some trees from where he had watched the whole scene after emerging from the smithy. She passed by quite close, but was unaware of his presence as he looked down at her.

  *

  He was unable to see much more than the soft curve of her cheek, and a firm rounded chin half hidden by a cluster of dark shining curls as she bent over the kitten.

  Gavin Anstey smiled to himself and when she was some distance away turned his horse and slowly followed her. Some of the bolder spirits amongst the children were also following Lucy, but Gavin quickened his pace until he was between them and her. When he saw her turn into the cottage door he stopped and swung his horse round and waited for the first children to come up with him.

  'And where might you be going?' he asked sternly.

  'Nowhere. We're just playing,' they answered, somewhat taken aback.

  'Does playing include ill-treating kittens?'

  ' 'Twas but a jest,' one boy answered.

  'It will be no jest for you if I catch you at it again. Now be off.'

  Resentfully the children turned, and somewhat dismally made their way back to the village, followed by Gavin. He watched them disperse, and then smiling at his recollection of the picture Lucy made, he quickened his horse's pace, and trotted towards the Black Goat. Arriving there, he dismounted in the yard and gave his horse into the care of the ostler, and made his way into the common room.