Charms of a Witch

by Marina Oliver

  'Why, she's a young and handsome specimen!' this individual commented, leering at Lucy and taking several steps in her direction.

  'Hold, John,' the older man said quickly.

  The man addressed as John turned and raised his eyebrows. 'Why, Matthew. Do you not trust me?'

  'Not when there is a personable wench involved.' He nodded to Agnes. 'My thanks, Mistress Perkins. I am sure we can trust you to see she is well guarded.'

  'To be sure, Mr Hopkins. She won't get away from the Black Goat,'Agnes said firmly.

  Hopkins nodded, satisfied, and without another glance at Lucy turned and left the room. His companion seemed disposed to linger, but Agnes looked at him suspiciously, and with a shrug he turned and followed Mr Hopkins. Agnes called to a maid who had been waiting outside and she came to the doorway, casting frightened glances at Lucy. She held a jug and a plate on which there was half a loaf of bread. Seeing her hesitation Agnes stepped across and took these roughly from her. She banged them down on the table.

  'It is more than you deserve, Lucy Dean, but Mr Hopkins has ordered that you have it!'

  She turned and left the room. Lucy heard the key grate in the lock. After a while, Lucy approached the table and saw there was water in the jug. She drank, for it was many hours since she had been captured, and she was thirsty. But she could not force herself to eat. She wandered over to the window and looked out. It was almost dark, and though there were sounds in the inn, they were muted and indistinguishable.

  Lucy sat at the table, resting her head on her arm, and remained in that position for some time. Gradually the sound of horses arriving at the inn yard penetrated her mind, and she looked up hopefully. It was dark now, there was no moon, and very little starlight. She listened intently, but apart from the sound of the carriage nothing else came to her. It was a good ten minutes before the noises from within the inn became louder. Again Lucy pricked up her ears. There were loud angry voices, from people apparently coming towards her room, and with a little gasp of hope she recognised her father's voice.

  *

  'I know full well the girl is held here, and I demand that you release her,' Sir Humphrey was saying.

  'You prevented justice from being meted out to her mother all those years ago,' Agnes answered shrilly. 'You will not be allowed to do the same again.'

  Another man's voice broke in. 'She is in my charge now, Sir Humphrey, and you can do nought.'

  Lucy recognised the voice of Mr Hopkins who had visited her earlier.

  'I know your evil reputation,' Sir Humphrey said angrily. 'You are a scourge, Matthew Hopkins, playing on the fears and credulity of a lot of old, frightened women. But your day is nearly over. You will not last for long.'

  'Your sneers and threats will not prevent me from doing my duty,' Mr Hopkins answered coolly. 'You shall not have the girl. She has been accused of witchcraft, and 'tis my bounden duty to question her and ascertain the truth of this accusation.'

  'You have no authority to do this. You are appointed by no court.'

  'Each and every one of us has the duty and the right to expose such evils as witchcraft. I happen to be particularly successful in my investigations, and am called upon as an expert. If you hinder me I shall think that there is something suspicious in your behaviour. If the girl is innocent, she will go free. Let that suffice.'

  'How many of those you have interrogated have gone free?' Sir Humphrey demanded sceptically.

  'If they all happened to be guilty, that is nought to do with me,' Hopkins replied. 'But if you strive to prevent me examining her, it shows knowledge on your part that she is guilty. Come, make an end to this brawl and depart ere I find it behoves me to restrain you too.'

  'What, wretch, are you threatening me? I'll see you hounded for this, aye, and hanged too, for the misery you have brought on countless families in Essex with your infamous and untrue charges!'

  'Seize him!' Hopkins ordered, and Lucy, horrified, heard the sounds of a struggle, then footsteps coming closer along the passage. A door close to that of her own room was opened, and after a few moments she heard it closed, and the key turned.

  The footsteps died away along the passage, and once more the inn resumed its comparative silence. Lucy went over to the door and began to call.

  'Father!'Tis Lucy.'

  Immediately there was a response.

  'Be silent, or you will be tied and gagged.'

  Sighing, Lucy retreated. She recognised the voice of one of the ostlers, and realised that they were likely to keep a guard in the passage all night. Frightened of what she herself would face on the following day, worried on behalf of her father, Lucy tried to rest and prepare herself for the ordeal she knew was to be hers. But rest was difficult. The chairs were hard, and Lucy could not be comfortable in them. She tried resting her head on her arms on the table, but soon the hardness made it necessary to change her position. She lay on the floor, which was somewhat better, though still exceedingly uncomfortable.

  *

  In between the discomfort and the worry, Lucy slept very little, and was wide awake by the time the first light of morning crept in through the window. She rose from where she had been trying to sleep on the bare floorboards, and eased her stiff and aching limbs.

  She was just moving across to the window when she heard a voice from outside calling her name softly. She looked out but could see no one. Again, 'Lucy' came the whispered voice.

  'Who is it?' she called back softly so as not to disturb the guard in the passage. Then a figure moved from below the window into her sight. It was Jem. He looked up at her, and waved.

  'Lucy, there is little time. I came to say I was sorry, and to ask your forgiveness.'

  Lucy smiled ruefully. 'Do not plague yourself, Jem,' she answered quietly.

  'I do. I could have restrained my mother.'

  Lucy shook her head doubtingly.

  'I want to make amends. I still love you, Lucy. I want to obtain your release, but I do not impose conditions. I have no plans as yet, but I will keep watch. Keep up your spirits. You have a friend here.'

  Lucy smiled gratefully, then an idea came to her.

  'Jem, fetch Gavin and Peter from Delmead. They might be able to help you.'

  She saw his hesitation while he struggled with jealousy, then he nodded.

  'I will ride there at once. We should be back by midday. Do not despair, Lucy.'

  He waved again and turned away, making for the stables at the back of the inn, and Lucy, her heart lighter, returned to the table and drank some more of the unappetising, stale water left in the jug.

  *

  A little while later the normal activities of the inn began, and Lucy waited somewhat fearfully for the attentions of Matthew Hopkins and his assistants to be turned on her. No one approached her until well after sunrise, then Matthew Hopkins appeared. He was alone, Lucy was glad to see, and he sat at one side of the table, indicating she should take the other chair.

  At first his questioning was straightforward. He asked for details of her parentage and her upbringing, concentrating especially on the events of the past year or so, and when he had these facts the questions subtly began to change in tone. He went over and over some of the events of the past year, concentrating especially on Lucy's dealings with Jem and the villagers. Then, his tone becoming harder and his eyes boring into Lucy's, he snapped out at her.

  'How do you explain the death of Tommy Bates?'

  'I cannot explain it,' Lucy said.

  'And the illness of the blacksmith?'

  'It had nought to do with me!'

  'That is what we are trying to determine,' Matthew Hopkins said with a judicial air. 'You admit you had a familiar spirit.'

  'What do you say?' Lucy asked in amazement.

  'The cat you rescued from this boy Bates and his friends. 'Twas your familiar, was it not?'

  Lucy laughed a trifle shakily. 'A kitten? A pet kitten? How can people be so ridiculous!'

  Hopkins raised his eyebr
ows. 'Be not so presumptuous. 'Tis a proven fact that witches have familiars, and cats are very common ones.'

  'But I am no witch!' Lucy stated firmly. 'If there is no witch there can be no familiar. The kitten was a pet, a companion.'

  'But the fact remains one of the children who tried to harm the kitten was later killed.'

  'He died,' Lucy corrected. 'I know not how, but children do die, frequently. Not all their deaths can be called killings, or be due to witchcraft.'

  'Lots of combinations of facts that can be called significant. Then the blacksmith. He made you a spit, I believe?'

  'Yes. That is the sort of job he does. He does that sort of job for many people.'

  'But he was one of the few villagers to have aught to do with you, and he is stricken with an illness. The ones who, suspecting your evil powers, took care to keep away from you, have not suffered.'

  'Neither have all those that sought me out,' Lucy said sharply. 'You know full well Jem Perkins was pursuing me with offers of marriage. He has come to no harm. Neither has Mistress Smith, who was a good neighbour to me.'

  'They have been fortunate, for you needed them to further your plans. But who is to say you did not intend to harm them later? We have caught you in time.'

  'That is wild supposition,' Lucy protested. 'There is nought but prejudice in that.'

  'It is a reasonable supposition based on what we know of witches' practices,' Matthew Hopkins said calmly. 'You are further accused of using your connection with the Devil to overcome the villagers' attempts to drive you out of their midst.'

  'What madness is this?'

  'When they tried to burn your thatch. 'Tis a well known device for destroying the powers of a witch. You and your Satanic master caused a storm to put out the fire.'

  Lucy stared at him in amazement. 'Is every storm then the result of a compact with the Devil?'

  'Do not try to be facetious. 'Twill not help you.'

  Lucy sighed, and Hopkins went on questioning her, repeating the same questions over and over again, attacking from many differing angles, so that Lucy was weary of the repetition. It went on for several hours, and then Hopkins called to the servant who was waiting outside.

  'Right, fetch Mr Stearne now.'

  With scarcely a pause he resumed his questioning of Lucy, and the only respite she had was when John Stearne, his assistant, came into the room. Hopkins stood up and stretched.

  'You will take over now. But be warned, she is to be questioned only for the time being. I would not have your meddlesome lusts destroy the work I have put in up till now.'

  John Stearne grinned, and made a mock bow to his master. 'As you wish,' he said. 'But you will find in the end that my way will produce more results.'

  'We will nevertheless try mine first.'

  *

  With a curt nod Hopkins left the room, and Stearne seated himself behind the table. Again the questioning began, and Lucy was forced to repeat many of the details of her life. John Stearne's questions then concentrated on the men Lucy had been associated with.

  'Did this Peter Francis never have carnal relations with you while you lived in the same house?'

  'Of course not!' Lucy protested angrily. 'Aside from all else, we were like brother and sister!'

  Stearne laughed. 'What has that to do with aught? You would not have me believe that you do not know what brothers and sisters get up to, the same as any other maids and men?'

  'You are insulting,' Lucy said in fury.

  'No. Merely realistic. But if your tastes do not go that way, what of Jem Perkins? He is a lusty fellow. I will not believe he never kissed you.'

  Lucy flushed, partly with embarrassment, partly with anger. 'What if he did?' she demanded.

  'Aha! You confess it! And I warrant there was more than bussing. What familiarities did you allow him? Chaste explorations, or did he tip up your petticoats? What haystacks do you know? Or did you not need such country beds? After all, you've lived alone in the cottage for a long while, entertaining whomsoever you wished – Peter Francis, as well as Jem Perkins. And what of your fine gallant, Gavin Anstey? Another feather in your cap, no doubt.'

  'You are a vile tongued rogue, and I will not answer your questions!' Lucy retorted, and rose and went to look out of the window.

  John Stearne seemed pleased at this development rather than otherwise. 'Good. So you do not answer me. Then we'll have to find ways of forcing you to answer.'

  Lucy turned round quickly. 'You cannot force me to answer such questions,' she said hotly. 'I am beginning to understand why Mr Hopkins does not trust you, and gave you so many warnings. I shall complain to him when next I see him, about your questioning.'

  'Do so, 'twill be of no avail. Hopkins has to rely on me, for his own methods do not always work, and mine often prove more successful.'

  He continued his questions, but to Lucy's relief, did not touch her. She continued steadfast in her refusal to answer, and maintained this refusal even when he reverted to more innocuous questions.

  It was late in the afternoon before Matthew Hopkins returned.

  'Well?' he asked Stearne. 'Did you succeed?'

  'Oh, she is a stubborn bitch,' he replied. 'But I have some more information for you.'

  Hopkins glanced at Lucy. 'Right. We will put the constable in here while we compare notes.'

  They called in a swarthy, unpleasant looking individual, and ordered him to keep Lucy under surveillance. They then left the room, to Lucy's relief, though she eyed her new captor with some apprehension. He, however, beyond a cursory glance, took no notice of her. He sat in the chair, tilting it backwards, propping his feet on the table, and Lucy was left to her reflections.

  *

  These were not very comforting. Long before now Jem should have returned with Gavin and Peter, but as Lucy considered it she realised they might not have been at Delmead when Jem reached it. They had been visiting neighbouring landowners, and may have set off before Jem arrived. He might not have been able to follow them if Mistress Francis did not know where they were, or chose not to tell Jem. It might well be evening before they returned to Delmead and he could acquaint them with her plight.

  Next she worried about her father. Was he undergoing the same sort of interrogation as she? She was anxious on his behalf, and prayed earnestly for Gavin's quick arrival. Then there was her physical discomfort. It was more than twenty-four hours since she had eaten, and the only drink during that time had been the water last night and this morning. The uneaten loaf of bread and the jug of water had been moved when Matthew Hopkins began his questioning, and Lucy was exceedingly hungry and thirsty by now. She obtained no relief, however. After an hour with her silent guardian, Hopkins and Stearne returned and questioned her together.

  She refused to tell them more than she had already, and despite their hints of clemency if she confessed to witch practices, she maintained her ignorance and innocence of them.

  At length, Hopkins stood up. It was getting dark.

  'You are obdurate, and will suffer severe penalties for this. Be warned. If you do not submit to us and confess tomorrow, we will have to subject you to the standard tests of witchcraft.'

  Lucy stared at him, trying not to let the fear show in her eyes.

  'Do you know what these are?' he continued remorselessly.

  Before she could reply, Stearne cut in. 'Mistress Phillips will arrive by tomorrow. She is an expert in finding witch marks. 'Twill be my pleasure to assist her.'

  Lucy paled, for she knew about this searching for marks, and the thought of John Stearne surveying her naked body and searching minutely for a possible blemish that could be designated a witch mark made her tremble.

  'You might be tested by pricking too,' Hopkins went on, ignoring Stearne. 'But we will give you another chance of answering our questions in the morning.'

  Lucy breathed a slight sigh of relief, but Hopkins was quick to notice.

  'Do not think you will be allowed a respite to recover your det
ermination to resist,' he said, smiling a little. 'I doubt you slept much last night. We intend to see to it that you do not sleep tonight. By tomorrow you will be anxious to help us.'

  He called in the constable again, and gave him instructions Lucy was not to be allowed to go to sleep. The man nodded morosely, and Hopkins and Stearne left the room. Candles were brought, and set upon the table.

  *

  For a time Lucy wandered restlessly between the table and the window, but it was dark, and she could see nothing, nor hear anything unusual. Eventually, exhausted by her ordeal, she sat down and put her head on her arms. Immediately the constable jumped up.

  'None o' that now,' he said, and grasping her roughly by the elbow he pulled her to her feet. 'You will stay awake, you heard what Mr Hopkins said.'

  'Little likelihood I can sleep in these conditions,' she answered bitterly.

  'I am to see to it. Now, walk!'

  Throughout that seemingly endless night, she was allowed to sit down occasionally, but the moment she showed signs of collapsing into sleep, her brutal gaoler hauled her to her feet and forced her to walk up and down round and round the room.

  By dawn she was in a state of near collapse, but she received no respite. When Hopkins and Stearne came into her, they merely showed signs of satisfaction that she was in such a sorry condition.

  This time both of them stayed with her for most of the day, questioning alternately, hammering questions and accusations at her, and if she did not reply instantly, or they did not consider the answer satisfactory, they would repeat the question more loudly, threateningly, mingling accusations and supposed proofs of her supposed witchcraft activity in with the constant, repetitious questions.

  During most of this time Lucy was allowed to sit down, largely because they realised that if she had been forced to remain standing she would have lapsed into unconsciousness. At intervals the constable was called in to guard her and force her to walk about while Hopkins and Stearne retired to refresh themselves with ale, or to eat.