Charms of a Witch

by Marina Oliver

  'I do not wish it, Jem. 'Twould be kind in you not to attempt it.'

  'What's the matter with you? I kissed you before and you did not object.'

  'I was startled, surprised at it,' Lucy tried to explain. 'I thought you merely meant to give special comfort when I was particularly distressed, but I do not wish it to become a habit.'

  'Fustian! Do not be so ladylike. You'll not make me more eager by refusing as you might think to do with a fine horn gentleman.'

  'It is not that at all,' Lucy protested.

  'Lucy, my dear, you know how I feel about you!'

  'Yes, Jem, and you know how I feel about you. I have told you often enough. I do not love you, I will not marry you.'

  They were standing facing one another in the kitchen. He reached out his hands and grasped her roughly by the shoulders.

  'Be sensible, Lucy, what else can you do? I offer you safety as well as a prosperous home. You may think you do not love me now, but you will when you are my wife.'

  'I will not marry where I do not love, Jem. I am sorry, but I do not love you.'

  'You are still back in the fine house where you were brought up, trying to behave as you think gentlefolk behave. But you are not gently born. You are but a cottage wench.'

  'That may be true, but it makes no difference.'

  *

  On that occasion Jem shrugged impatiently and left the cottage in an angry mood, and it was a week before Lucy saw him again, but he was impenitent and the same arguments continued with greater intensity.

  Lucy turned away from Jem at one point during the quarrel, but he immediately came up behind her and put his arms round her. She turned angrily to him.

  'What good is friendship to me?'Jem asked. 'I am a man, I have a man's needs, and I need you. Will you give up this posturing? Who else would be willing to play with you?'

  'I know not, and I care nought,' Lucy answered, 'but I will not marry you.'

  'No one else in Brookley, or for miles around, would dare!'

  'Dare?'

  'Did you know Tommy Bates has died?'

  Lucy looked at him in surprise. 'Who is Tommy Bates? And what is that to the point?'

  'Remember the boys who were pretending to swim the witch?' He gestured towards the kitten which was curled up in front of the fire. 'Tommy Bates was one of them.'

  Lucy looked at him in puzzlement.

  'He died a few days ago, no one knows why, but you are held to be responsible for it.'

  Lucy stepped back and looked at Jem in horror. 'No! They cannot!'Tis monstrous!'

  'The blacksmith, he is ill,' Jem went on relentlessly.

  Lucy shook her head wordlessly.

  'He is ill of some wasting sickness, has been these past few weeks. He was friendly towards you, was he not, on the same day when you obtained the cat.'

  'But I have nought to do with this. Why should I kill people or make them ill?'

  'Witches have powers,' Jem answered matter of factly.

  'If you believe that is what I am, I am surprised you are not afeared to be here alone with me!'

  Jem smiled somewhat contemptuously. 'I do not believe you are a witch. Witches are usually taught from the cradle, but your mother died before she could infect you by her own evil doings. I do not believe her powers were passed on to you. When you marry me the rumours will die down. You realise my mother is the chief accuser?'

  'Yes,' she answered bitterly.

  'She is doing it because she fears you want to marry me.'

  'Jem, if you leave me alone, as I wish you to, she will see there is nought to fear and stop persecuting me.'

  'She will have to do that when you wed me. When you are my wife there will be little point in her accusations. She does not really believe it, she merely wishes to separate us.'

  'If it were not for what she accuses me of, I would wish her success,' Lucy said sharply. 'Jem, I do not love you, but even if I did, there would still be the barrier of our possible kinship.'

  Jem considered her in surprise for a moment. 'So that is the reason? I have told you 'tis nonsense! My father swore that he had no commerce with your mother. I believed him. If you had seen the pain he was in, the fear he had of God's punishments, you would believe that he told the truth.'

  'Even so, 'twould be too great a risk. And I do not love you. How often must I say it before you accept it?'

  'That matters nought. I have enough for both of us. Did you know my mother had gone to Hadleigh?'

  'Hadleigh? In Suffolk?'

  'Aye, she has gone to consult Hoveye.'

  'Who is that, and why are you telling me this?'

  'Hoveye is one of the Cunning Folk. My mother has gone to ask her how she may avoid your powers. Possibly she has other objects in view, but she did not tell me these. She would like to drive you away from the village.'

  Lucy laughed a trifle forcedly.

  'I know these Folk have powerful reputations, but since I am no witch whatever she does will be of no avail. She travels a long way in vain.'

  'She has gone to Hoveye because she is of high reputation. There are many nearer to hand. 'Tis a measure of her determination against you. She will return later today. Think on't Lucy. If you do not agree to marry me, matters will become very much worse for you than they have been until now. I am warning you.'

  He swung on his heel and left the cottage, and Lucy sat down to consider it. The cat jumped onto her lap, and she sat there absently caressing it. More than ever was she determined not to agree to his proposals, but she did not know what else to do.

  *

  Then the thought of Sir Humphrey came to her, and she began to wonder if this recluse, who was never now seen in the village, might be able to tell her something about her mother. He was thought to be her father. A gleam of hope in her eyes, Lucy nodded to herself. She would approach Sir Humphrey, and ask him to tell her about her mother. She did not care whether he was her father or not, but somehow she had to discover what had happened to her mother, why she had been branded a witch, in the hope this might give her some guidance herself, in her own predicament.

  The following day Lucy set off. As she was crossing the green she saw coming towards her Mistress Tanner. Lucy was by now accustomed to being ignored by the villagers, who usually passed her with their eyes averted, but this time Mistress Tanner's reaction on seeing her was somthing Lucy had not before encountered. The woman stopped, then moving as far as she could to the other side of the path, she hurried past Lucy, making the sign of the cross as she did so.

  Lucy looked at her in amazement. Essex was a Puritan area, and such Papist superstitious practices were no longer seen. They were severely frowned upon by the Puritans. Lucy proceeded to the Manor, putting the odd behaviour of Mistress Tanner out of her mind. She entered the gates and followed the drive which wound its way through a belt of trees where the undergrowth grew wild and entangled. At the far side of the trees the drive went between well kept lawns to a small but exquisite Tudor house.

  Lucy advanced and knocked on the door. There was no answer so she knocked again, more loudly this time. After a very long wait the door was opened, and an elderly servant looked out at her.

  'What do you want?' he queried in a surly tone.

  'I wish to see Sir Humphrey Anstey,' Lucy replied firmly.

  The servant's eyes widened. 'Sir Humphrey never sees anyone,' he said harshly. 'Be off!'

  'Oh, but 'tis most important. Please will you not ask him?'

  'There would be no point in doing so.'

  'I am Lucy Dean. Will you not tell him that? I beg of you, do that at least.'

  The servant shook his head. 'It would be of no avail, I tell you.'

  'What can I do? 'Tis so important that I see him.'

  'If you were to write a letter?' he suggested, softened a little by the look of distress in Lucy's eyes. 'I cannot promise that he would answer it, mind, but he is like to read it.'

  'I thank you,' Lucy smiled gratefully at him. 'I will
do that. I should have thought of it before.'

  The servant nodded, and permitted a faint relaxation of his features which Lucy assumed was a smile. Then, before she had turned away, he shut the door.

  *

  With a lighter heart Lucy made her way back through the village. She was humming a tune softly to herself, but as she passed alongside the hedge which bordered the churchyard an odd sound made her pause. She stood listening intently. As far as she could tell there were several voices, and they were chanting something which at first appeared unintelligible to Lucy. Then she realised what it was – the Lord's Prayer being said backwards.

  She hurried along to where there was a gap in the hedge, and peered through. A few feet away from the church door was a group of five or six women. Agnes and Mistress Tanner were among them. They were holding hands while chanting, but as Lucy watched the chanting came to an end, and they released each other's hands. Agnes took a step forward and bent down. She had a small spade in her hand, and Lucy could see that she was digging a hole in the ground. When the hole was sufficiently big, she turned and took a bottle from a basket on the ground beside her. Agnes made sure it was firmly corked, and laid it in the hole she had made. Twice more she put bottles in the hole, and when she had finished, the women joined hands and began their weird chanting once more.

  Lucy hurried away, not wishing them to discover she had overheard them. Instead of going home she went straight to Mistress Smith's cottage, and told her what she had seen.

  'What does it mean? Can you tell me?'

  Mistress Smith looked at Lucy sadly. 'It is nought for your ears, my dear.'

  'I think it very likely should be,' Lucy answered firmly. 'Is it not something to do with me? Please, if you know or suspect what it is, tell me that I may be warned.'

  Mistress Smith nodded thoughtfully. 'Mayhap you are right. 'Tis an anti-witch device. I have heard of it being done once or twice before. The bottles contain many ingredients, organs from small animals, items belonging to the supposed witch. 'Tis hoped the witch will gradually die.'

  'That is what they wish for me?' Lucy said sadly.

  'Be not afeard. I do not believe you are a witch, so nought they can do will harm you. These charms only work against real witches. But Lucy, do not go abroad tonight.'

  'I rarely go out,' Lucy answered, 'but why not tonight especially?'

  'Do you not know the date?'

  'It is the end of April.'

  'Aye. May Eve.'

  'Of course. The night when witches meet at Sabats?'

  Mistress Smith nodded. 'It is most like why they have buried the bottle today. I know little about these practices, but 'tis possible that to use these devices at particular times make them more like to succeed.'

  'Thank you for telling me. I will make sure I do not leave the cottage.' Lucy smiled somewhat wanly and went off to her own cottage, where she barred and bolted herself in.

  *

  Chapter 8

  When darkness fell Lucy went upstairs and prepared for bed, but she had scarcely reached her room before she heard noises outside the cottage. There was a rustling greater than that made by any animal. She listened intently. There came the sound of voices, hushed at first, then gradually increasing in volume.

  Lucy went over to the window and peered through a knot hole in the shutter. It was not completely dark, and she could distinguish many forms in the road outside. Half the village was there. Trembling slightly she drew away from the window, though she knew full well that no one could see her behind the shutter. She sat in the darkness, and the noise outside gradually increased. The voices became louder and more penetrating. At first the villagers appeared simply to be talking to themselves, but then Lucy could distinguish comments that were directed at her.

  'Come out, Mistress Dean.'

  'We wish to see you.'

  'Are you flying off to meet the devil your master tonight?'

  'Where is your broomstick?'

  'Where is the familiar?'

  'Aye, the cat! Where is the cat?'

  Lucy listened, worried and angry. She knew the cat, as was its custom, was asleep on her bed. Stretching out her hand, she felt the warm soft little body. Her touch woke the kitten, and he purred and crept onto her lap, where Lucy held him close for comfort. The noises outside went on, the shouts grew louder. Lucy could hear that some of the bolder spirits had entered the garden and were at the back of the house. She sat praying desperately that they would go away, but it was some hours before her prayers were answered.

  Well after midnight the villagers appeared to decide they would see nothing. Lucy heard them arguing whether she had gone to the Sabat invisible to them.

  'They have an ointment they smear on themselves, and no one can see them,' one of the women repeatedly told the others.

  'She may not have gone. We may have prevented it,' one of the others replied.

  To Lucy's relief they did not suggest breaking into the cottage to discover the truth. She smiled a little grimly at the thought that there were certain advantages in having them frightened of her. When they eventually drifted away, and peace returned, Lucy was too frightened to go to sleep until it was daylight.

  *

  For several days after that, Lucy kept very close to the cottage. She worked in the garden as usual, but she did not go further. When someone passed along the road, she made sure that she was out of sight or inside the cottage. No one disturbed her. Even Jem seemed to have deserted her, for she saw nothing of him.

  Then, one day when it was oppressively hot and sultry, and Lucy had stayed inside the cottage for coolness, she heard loud voices outside. She glanced out of the window. There were several youths standing around her gate. They had a sack, and as Lucy watched, one of them opened the neck of the sack, and another, who had had his back to Lucy, leant over and stuffed something in.

  Suddenly Lucy realised it was the kitten. He had been outside, sleeping in the shade of a bush in the garden. As he was thrust into the sack, Lucy saw his legs thrash out in a vain attempt to escape. The youths had succeeded, and twisting the neck of the sack, one of them slung it over his shoulder, and they set off at a run for the village. Lucy was already running down the garden path, fear for herself forgotten in her anxiety for her pet.

  'Come back! What do you want? Give me the kitten back.'

  They paid no heed. Lucy picked up her skirts and ran after them, but they were already some way ahead, and the distance between them was increasing, despite Lucy's efforts. Desperate and panting for breath, she ran all the way to the village, and as she came round the bend onto the green, she saw what she had feared. The youths had reached the pond on the far side and they flung the sack out over the water. From the look of it, it had been weighted with more than the kitten.

  Lucy made an extra effort, and ran frantically across the green. She was breathless when she arrived at the pond, but she would have plunged in if the youths had not seen her coming. Two of them grabbed her arms as she tried to push her way past, and though she kicked and fought, she was helpless, imprisoned between them. Sobbing bitterly, she saw that the sack did not reappear.

  'The cat was innocent,' some wit remarked, bursting into a cackle of laughter.

  'That means nought,' another answered. 'You two, keep the girl here while we see to the other business.'

  Lucy's captors did not seem very pleased at this new duty.

  'Why should we do it? We want some fun too. She can't prevent it.'

  'Keep her here for a time, then if you wish, let her go. You will be in time for the fun.'

  By this time the village youths, and several of the village women who had joined them round the pond had set off in the direction of Lucy's cottage. Helpless in the grasp of her captors, she watched, wondering what they had in store for her. After a few minutes one of her guards suggested that it was now time to release her.

  'Aye. Those bastards will have it all over if we do not go quickly.'

  Without
further discussion they released Lucy and ran off. Summoning up her energy, Lucy ran after them, but when she came within sight of the cottage, she stopped in horror. The thatch of her cottage was blazing merrily, and the villagers were standing in the road, some leaping about in wild glee, all of them shouting.

  Sobbing, Lucy stumbled on. Neither she nor the villagers noticed the sun had disappeared behind large black clouds. Lucy was conscious of the crack of thunder when it came, but thought nothing further of it, being anxious only to reach the cottage, though dimly she realised there was nothing she could do there. She did not consider what the villagers were likely to do to her.

  *

  The thunder was followed very swiftly by a torrential downpour of rain, and Lucy watched as this put out the fire on the thatch. The villagers had stopped their capering. Some were huddled under the hedge trying in vain to keep dry, while others stood stock still in the middle of the road, watching the flames flicker and die as the rain fell in vast quantities upon them. Then a shout went up from one of the women.

  'She has the devil's help. This proves she is a witch.'

  'Aye. Let us find her. ' A rumble of agreement came from the voices round about. Lucy suddenly realised the danger she was in. She looked round. She was just near Mistress Smith's gate, and she slipped inside and crouched behind some bushes, then, her heart pounding, she heard the villagers troop off down the road. Most fortunately they had not seen her.

  The storm passed as suddenly as it had arisen, but Lucy crouched behind the bush for a very long time before venturing to look out into the road. No one was about, and she made her way cautiously back to her own cottage.

  The fire had obtained a good hold, and most of the thatch was gone. Lucy went to inspect the damage. The rooms upstairs were hideous with the mess from the burnt and soaked thatch, but that was all the damage. Lucy sat on the floor in the middle of it, and allowed her grief to overwhelm her. She wept, not so much for the damage to the cottage, but for the cruelty which had been shown to her kitten.

  Eventually she became calmer, and began to set things to rights as well as she could. She would have to use the bed downstairs, and she took sheets and pillow beres and made it up. Then she moved what she could from the bedroom so that any further rain coming through the gaping holes in the roof would not damage it more. She pushed the large furniture underneath the places where the roof was least damaged.