‘It would be a mercy if you did faint, Sharpe and then I might be spared your womanish whittering for a time.’
Finally, my torso and limbs were populated by glistening purple creatures, bulging and replete. Once sated, each fell from my body. The barber harvested the fallen fruits one by one and tossed them into the heart of the fire. Each gave off a monstrous stench as it burst in the flames, filling the room with an acrid miasma of burnt mud and metal. I felt thin and pale.
‘I’ll cover you in rugs and leave you to sweat in the warmth of a purifying fire made with dried yarrow flowers. Soft-headed bugger, fancy wounding yourself with a dirty knife, never mind being infested with the blood of witches.’
In the heat, I thrashed about as my fever reached its crisis, trembling and sweating as the barber tossed lavender into the fire. It banished the stench that had settled, pall-like, in the shack, soothing me and bringing peaceful sleep.
* * *
Two days later, recovered, but weak, I accepted some broth. The barber gave me a bottle of tonic, a crock of ointment and a lavender plant.
‘Plunge the blade into the earth around the plant and leave it there when it’s not in use. The lavender will keep it clean. Plant it in a sunny spot. Clean things need plenty of light. And strop that blade properly before you use it on yourself again. There’s nothing as bad as a mucky knifeman, or one with a blunt prick.’
I eyed the barber to determine whether he was trying to get a rise from me. Then I paid the extortionate bill and scurried away, considerably lighter in purse, flesh and spirit.
Once home, I was determined to rest while my humours regathered. But my mattress was spotted with black blood and my stomach lurched at the sight. It was a dreadful extravagance, but I’d have to burn the straw and its coverings. This would attract comment from the nosy hag in the next cottage, but I couldn’t risk poisoning my body or spirit again with this witch-infested blood. When I set the fire away, it gave off black smoke and tears streamed down my face. While it did its purifying work, I dug a hole to plant the lavender in readiness for the cleansing of the blade.
* * *
Now that my body, my home and the blade were cleansed of their unholy taint, I considered the nature of pricking. I’d almost killed myself in my enthusiastic self-cutting. Instead, I should have uncovered the bodkin’s secret, for secret there surely was. After resting, I’d take some time to understand its workings.
When the bodkin finally gave up its secret, I shook my head at the simplicity of the trick. To the willing eye, a hollowed cylinder of metal has exactly the same appearance as a solid one. Once George Campbell had found the devil’s stain, it was the work of a second to slide the catch and let the pricking needle retract. Oh, Campbell was pressing hard enough and the blade looked as though it was plunged into the accursed one’s flesh down to the bone, but did the witch wince or emit one drop of blood? She did not. And that was how he proved the witch’s guilt.
And this blunt instrument made quite a pleasing impression, blanching the skin so the blood fled to other parts, sped on its way by none other than Satan. I realised that Campbell had taken the time to find those special places on the body where pain can’t find its way in and blood can’t find its way out.
Still, Campbell was a man blessed with an inventive turn of mind. In turn, he’d blessed me with this witch-finding device. And a device that found witches so easily must save more innocent souls in the long run. That would be to the benefit of my neighbours. But I was a mere man, and I could not undertake this great task unaided. I took to my knees and cast down my eyes to pray to God for His guidance.
‘Dear God, there is such a moot of witches in this neck of the woods. Without your help, the dark ones will have their way with the soul of every newborn in Scotland. And so I pledge my life to your holy service. If you will only guide my heart and my hands, I swear to root out this terrible evil in our midst. So be it.’
24
Jane
A Taste of Poppy Milk
The day I became Jane Driver was a subdued occasion and it was a relief when the day’s end came so I could climb into bed and escape the curious stares.
‘It’s so good to be away from everyone, Andrew, I felt your mother’s eyes were on me all day. She must wonder about Tom …’
‘I’m sure you’re just imagining it, Jane.’
‘But how much of the truth does she know?’
‘Jane, I’m a man and you’re my wife. That’s all my mother needs to know. And the sooner we stop talking about Tom Verger, the sooner everyone will forget him. You’re my wife now, and that’s all that matters. You’re mine.’
The last thing I wanted to do was to forget about Tom, but Andrew’s face reddened every time his name came up, so I decided to just try being grateful. There would be plenty of time to remember Tom once Andrew went to sleep. But there was something that had to be borne before then.
‘I can never thank you enough for saving me from the house of correction. You’re kind, Andrew, very kind.’
He took my hands and smiled. ‘That I am, Jane. But you know that I don’t expect you to lie with me. Not until the baby’s born at any rate. And in the meantime, promise to forget Tom Verger. I’m a patient man, but you’re mine now.’
‘Thank you, Andrew. But they’ll expect to see the bloody linen on the morrow.’
‘Well, had you married Tom, there would be no bloody linen. Your growing belly is all they need to know on the matter. Get some sleep, for the cattle wait for no man.’
Andrew turned from me in the bed and was soon breathing heavily. I looked at the rafters. Andrew was being fair and he’d always been Tom’s friend. But he wasn’t Tom. I cradled my belly and a tear ran from the side of my eye.
* * *
Over the years, I’d delivered enough women to know that birth was one of the most dangerous moments in the life of the mother and the baby. But Mam was by my side and there was no better midwife in the county.
She straightened up. ‘Well, Jane, I’d say this baby will be here within the hour.’
‘Ah, Mam, half of me wishes the baby would come late.’
‘Oh, why’s that, Jane?’
‘Well, it’s just that there’s so much gossiping, and everyone keeps saying the bairn’s Tom’s.’
‘Well, the bairn is Tom’s. And Andrew knows that as well as any.’
‘It’s just … well … it’s not fair to burden Andrew with any more humiliation than he’s borne already.’
Mam clicked her tongue. ‘Humiliation? The lad went into this with his eyes open. That mother of his is putting words in your mouth, I’ll wager. Bett Driver and her proud ways.’
‘No, Mam, I don’t think it is Bett. It’s just, well, he gets very jealous and angry. I daren’t mention Tom to him at all. It’s hard to believe they were ever friends the way he scowls if I so much as even mention Bill Verger.’
‘He hasn’t struck you, or anything?’
‘No, no. Of course not. I’d have told you sooner, it’s just his words sometimes …’
‘Then don’t trouble yourself just now, Jane. Let’s get this baby delivered safely, and then we can think what to do about Andrew and his words.’
I clutched myself as the pain welled. Mam rested one hand on my rigid belly, eyes closed and counting, until the pain passed.
She winked and heaved me to my feet. ‘Jane, can you walk awhile? Link my arm and let’s see if we can get this baby moving before Goodwife Driver returns from the market to assist us.’
* * *
When Bett Driver arrived back from the market, she was red-cheeked and soaked through.
She frowned. ‘So your time has come, Jane. Has anyone told my son yet?’
I bent over, blew out a long breath and shook my head. Mam held my hands, nodding and counting slowly. When I finally straightened up, Mam spoke.
‘Not so far, Bett. Jane has a way to go and there’s no sense hurrying Andrew back from his work just yet.
’
Bett smoothed her skirts. ‘Well, a man needs to know when his wife starts her birthing pains. I’ll send a lad to him, dreadful though the weather is. There’s quite a storm brewing out there today.’
Mam steered me back to the birthing chair and pushed the hair off my face before turning to address Andrew’s mother.
‘It’s not a man’s place to be here for the birth. Let him come home in his own sweet time once Jane is safely delivered.’
Bett wouldn’t take kindly to being told what to do in her own home.
But she seemed to make her mind up and took off her wet cloak. ‘Your Jane’s very narrow-hipped, of course.’
There was a note of criticism in this comment, but Mam was as calm as ever.
‘She’ll do just fine, Bett. Jane knows what she’s about. And plenty of narrow-hipped lasses ease out fine babies.’
I was wracked by another pain and this one took me down inside myself, so that the conversation between the grandmothers became no more than an annoying buzz.
‘A terrible shame the baby has decided to arrive early, as it’ll make it all the harder to pass off the child as a Driver.’
Mam snorted at this. ‘Aye, Bett, but it might mean the child is easier to birth. Had the baby gone over, Jane might have struggled, what with her being so narrow-hipped.’
I wiped sweat from my brow and looked out of the window. A storm had begun to rage and the ice-ridden wind battered the windows. It howled down the chimney, blowing soot into the room and threatening to put out the fire.
Bett looked around the room. ‘It doesn’t bode well for a baby being born with this storm and the wind trying to break into the house. It’s as if God Himself is angered …’
Mam gave Bett a hard stare. ‘It’s nothing of the sort. Just the usual winter squalls. At least we’re on dry land. Pity help those at sea–’ She grimaced and glanced over at me, a clear apology in her eyes, but a new pain was peaking and I was too busy panting to acknowledge the gesture. The sweat was running down my back and a fresh wave of pain convulsed me.
‘Look, the pains are getting closer together. Bett, give Jane your hand. Mop her brow to keep the sweat from stinging her eyes and I’ll help the baby out. Jane, don’t push until I tell you.’
There was an overwhelming pressure low down in my belly, accompanied by a sickening pain, and I clenched my teeth and began bearing down.
‘Jane, Jane, the baby’s head is starting to crown. Try not to push hard, or the baby will come too fast.’
I tried not to push, but my body was in charge and continued to bear down. As the baby’s head emerged, I let out a shrill scream. Mam supported the baby’s head, turning it to ease out the shoulder. But this baby was in a hurry and slid out quickly.
Mam laughed. ‘Oh! Such a tiny soul, with flaming red hair! Jane, pet, you have a beautiful little girl.’
Rose. I smiled to myself and sent up a prayer for Tom. Mam pressed the baby to my breast and I smiled at the scrap of humanity until tears welled in my eyes.
‘Come on, baby, try to feed.’ Already, my breasts were aching. Although the child’s eyes were still closed, she snuffled and moved her tiny lips until she found my teat and began to suckle. A pain like a knife shot through my breast, causing me to wince.
‘Come, Jane, let’s see. This child isn’t properly latched. Hook your smallest finger into her mouth to break the seal.’
I did as Mam told me and the baby began to mewl.
‘Patience, my hungry girl.’ Mam adjusted the baby’s position and nudged her back towards my teat.
‘There, try that.’
This time, the baby latched on, but the pain was much less and my daughter suckled easily. More than anything, I wished Tom could be here to see his bairn. But I mustn’t cry in front of Andrew’s mother. I hugged Tom’s child and gazed down on her.
‘Jane, you keep nursing the child while I deliver the placenta. Bett, it’s usually straightforward, but be ready to take the baby, if necessary.’
Bett’s eyes fixed on my child. ‘Oh, this little one will have to wear a bonnet. There’s none in my family with red hair such as this. And what will our Andrew say?’
Mam clicked her tongue. ‘I’m sure your Andrew will just be relieved that Jane and the child are both safe. And he’ll be delighted that this little girl takes after Jane’s grandmother. My late mother, God rest her, was graced with the same bright hair.’
I looked up from my nursing baby, wondering whether God would forgive a lie of such magnitude, but there was none here to prove otherwise. I smiled and touched my baby’s red curls. Mam’s lie would allow Bett Driver to be a proud grandmother and it would ease Andrew’s life somewhat. It was for me to decide what to tell my child. The convulsions began again, so I tried not to clutch the baby too tightly and closed my eyes against this new, but milder pain.
‘Jane, your placenta has come away in one piece.’ Mam held up the strange organ. ‘This has sustained your little girl. It’s not so big, though, and perhaps this is why you’ve delivered early. Do you see, Bett? Most often, I see a placenta greater than this, even from girls as young and narrow-hipped as Jane.’
Bett nodded. ‘Aye, I see. Well no wonder the little mite has turned up so early.’
‘Jane, you need some stitches. Bett, please take the baby as the pain will be sharp and Jane may flinch.’
‘Aye, Annie, of course I will. And then I’ll send a lad to find our Andrew and tell him the glad tidings.’
Bett swaddled the baby in a piece of clean linen and snuggled my mewling daughter close to her. Mam was very clever. Underneath everything, Goodwife Driver had a kind heart and she’d not be able to resist such a pretty child. Especially knowing that she took so much after my grandmother and that she was bound to be born early because of an underdeveloped placenta.
* * *
Andrew burst into the room, his face wreathed in smiles, and he chastely kissed me and the baby.
‘Ah, Jane, what a relief that you’re both well. Such a bonny little girl. And the image of your own granny by all accounts.’
Reverend Foster followed him in and exchanged glances with Mam, but he also smiled. ‘God bless you, Jane and Andrew, and your little girl. Have you a name for her?’
Andrew nodded. ‘We’re going to call her Rose.’
It was decent of Andrew to honour my wish. Bett wouldn’t be happy, but she’d learn to live with it. And it was important to keep the promise I’d made to Tom that day we’d chased cloud shadows on the Town Moor.
Finally, Bett Driver took charge of her own home once again. ‘Come, Reverend Foster and Annie, it’s time to leave Jane and my grandchild in peace. They’ve had a tiring day and they must rest. Andrew will go with you to make the baptism arrangements.’
Mam kissed Rose and felt my brow. ‘You’re too hot. I’ll come and check on you before nightfall to make sure all is well with you and the little one.’
Bett Driver closed the door, sighed and began to bank the fire. ‘You do look hot, my girl. You’ve not got the fever on you, I hope? Maybe you should go back to your mother for a few days. I’ll get the supper going today, but you can take care of your own work from the morrow. No lying in like a fine lady around here.’
‘Thank you, Goodwife Driver, you’re most kind.’
I hugged Rose and traced a finger round her face. Oh, Tom. Tom Verger, we have such a beautiful baby girl and she looks so much like you. I hope you somehow know that Rose is here. And when she’s old enough, she’ll know all about you, I promise.
With that, I kissed my baby’s downy head and blinked back tears. Tom belonged to the past, God rest him, and I should be more thankful that Andrew had saved us from the house of correction and that we’d been spared the fate of tragic Peggy Greaves and her grey infant. I’d promised myself to Andrew in the eyes of God and had to be faithful to him in mind as well as deed.
* * *
I could only hear the sounds of my own body and could only s
ee what was painted on the inside of my eyelids. But then I became aware of the presence of many people. They crushed and they pressed, their smells and noise taking up all the room around me. It added to the pressure in my head. They sucked the air out of the place with their constant gabbling.
It was impossible to follow them with my ears, to separate their voices, but the gruff tones and the high squeaks forced themselves together into a horrible fog of noise. It squeezed itself into my ears, muffling everything until I was pulled down into the darkness again. Then came a terrible clattering in my ears. It filled my whole skull and shook my thoughts ever looser. Then it was gone, just a tiny fly buzzing away, getting smaller in the distance.
‘Sorry, Annie, let me pick these sticks up.’
‘Don’t worry, lad, just be glad your mother’s taken Rose for an airing, or she’d have howled the place down. Jane will be glad of the fire. You’re frozen, aren’t you, Jane? Andrew, it might be as well to split some more wood for the night ahead.’
The door opened and closed, much more softly than it ever would normally. No foundation-trembling slam. No window-panes clinging to their frames for dear life. No crocks jumping in surprise from dusty shelves. A certain heaviness had left the room, leaving just me and Mam.
‘Oh, Jane, what’s happened? You were doing so well. You’re such a strong lass and never ailed a day in your life. Though I don’t know why I’m asking you, it’s not as if you’re going to answer me, are you?’
I counted the seconds in my head until the door crashed open.
‘Oh, Andrew. You’re back. Thank goodness, Jane’s breathing sounds bad.’
‘It does sound very bad. Here, Annie, let me put this wood down and bank the fire up.’
‘Jane, I’m going to give you something for your pain. You must be in a lot of pain, pet. The least I can do is take that from you. Poppy milk, Jane. It’s all I can do for you now – take away your pain, keep you warm and just pray. Come, pet, take a drop or two for me.’
Widdershins Page 19