Widdershins

by Helen Steadman

  ‘Jane, can you get the honey ready, please? There’s enough for a half-pint to a quart of water, so it will be very sweet and keep well.’

  I nodded. ‘And what about warming spice, Mam? How much have you got?’

  ‘A stick of cinnamon and a thumb of ginger to each pint of honey. That should be enough fire to warm everyone’s chests this winter.’

  I nodded. ‘More than enough, Mam. If you can manage to get all the berries into the cauldron, I’ll go and fetch the Reverend’s middling hour-glass.’

  I ran to the Reverend’s desk to fetch it, as boiling the berries for more than quarter of an hour would leave a worthless syrup fit only for its flavour. I set the hour-glass on the table and Mam hefted the cauldron onto the hook over the fire.

  ‘Jane, keep an eye on it for me so the linctus doesn’t boil over into the flames and go to waste. I’ll get the cheesecloth ready for straining.’ She smiled at me. ‘Now tell me, how much does an ailing body need to take?’

  I laughed. This remedy had been lodged in my head since childhood. ‘Oh, that’s easy. A spoonful on winter mornings as a preventer for those with weak lungs or too much yellow bile. If a cough, sore throat or fever has already set in, a spoonful or two in hot water before retiring. Then, swaddle and prepare to sweat.’

  ‘Jane, you know these words better than I do myself!’

  ‘Your lessons are etched on my mind, Mam! Before long, they’ll be etched on Rose’s mind as well.’

  She smiled at me, but she had a faraway look in her eye. ‘You know, it barely seems a moment since I was learning these lessons from my own mother.’

  At this, we both turned our eyes to the sands running through the narrow neck of the hour-glass. The grains moved slowly. The smell of the berries, honey and spice was suddenly cloying and I was grateful for the acrid smoke from the fire. Finally, the last few grains of sand ran through the glass, so I placed a sheet of clean muslin over a pail and Mam lowered the boiling cauldron onto the hearthstone.

  ‘I’ll ladle it out, Jane. The cauldron’s far too heavy to tip without scalding one of us. But I’d best be quick, as that hot cauldron is still cooking the berries and they’ll spoil.’

  She began ladling the linctus into the pail. Once it was all transferred, I gathered up the corners of the muslin and lifted it clear of the sweet liquid, squeezing hard to get the last of the syrup out. Then I opened the door and flung the contents of the muslin outside. The birds would make short work of the waste. Mam raised a ladleful and poured the glossy syrup into brown bottles. These, I sealed.

  ‘There’s only another hundred bottles to go. Keep it up, pet, keep it up.’

  Bending over was making my back ache, so I straightened up just in time to see Reverend Foster pass the door.

  ‘Annie, whatever that delicious smell is coming from, may we have some on buttered crumpets for tea?’

  ‘Sorry, Reverend, it’s all for bottling. Enough cough linctus to see the village through until spring. And we’re selling the rest to the apothecary in Newcastle.’

  ‘Very well. But I’ll keep a bottle, if I may? The old throat has a tickle that’s bound to cause mischief during my sermon.’

  Mam plucked a hot bottle and passed it to him. ‘You may, Reverend. Only because it’s you. But don’t even think about mixing it with that bottle of liquid fire you keep in your secret cupboard.’

  The Reverend smiled benignly, ‘Thank you, Annie, and I’ll take my hour-glass while I’m here, now that I have your newly sealed magic warming my palm.’

  Mam fished in a pouch at her belt and pulled out a bobbin of red thread. ‘Here, Jane, cut lengths of this scarlet and I’ll knot them round the bottle necks to keep the elder spirit in her proper place.’

  I put my head down to stop myself from laughing.

  Mam caught my eye. ‘Aye, well might you grin, Jane Driver. But Meg wouldn’t rest at the thought of elder not being held back by a knot of red thread.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mam, I know.’

  Mam gave a watery smile. ‘I remember when Meg half-killed Tom and Andrew when they were just bairns. She caught them hacking and sawing at an old elder tree. Innocent they were, but intent on getting a couple of sticks.’

  I turned, alert to Tom’s name and wanting to hear a tale of him that was new to me. ‘What happened, Mam?’

  ‘Let’s just say it was a lesson well learnt. Meg told them never to harm the elder, as Mother Elder would remember them for it all her life. Then she sent them away to find a friendly willow for their sticks.’ Mam frowned. ‘Although Andrew took it badly. He ran off, shouting “witch, witch”, but only when he was beyond chasing distance.’ She shook her head. ‘Yes, Meg said we must respect the elder, always. She gives us so much of what we need, but she’s not very forgiving.’

  * * *

  We set off at dawn for the walk to the apothecary in Newcastle. Rose was at home with Granny Driver while we went to barter our elderberry linctus in exchange for spices. Weighed down with heavy bottles, it was a long walk, being at least fifteen miles, but not unpleasant.

  ‘Jane, are you well? You seem out of humour and you left your cheese this morning.’

  Under Mam’s steady gaze, I looked down, colour rising up my neck.

  ‘You’re with child again? Are you certain?’

  Although I shrugged, tears threatened, and Mam put an arm around me.

  ‘Oh, don’t weep. A new baby will be a joy to you both and it’ll be the making of your little family, you’ll see. But before you start making plans, we’ll need to make sure.’

  I forced a smile, but pulled away to pick at the clover blossoms growing nearby, plucking the tiny pink petals and sucking their sweetness. ‘I’m sure, Mam. It just feels like a betrayal of Tom, that’s all. It was one thing marrying Andrew to escape the house of correction. But now I feel as though I’ve let down his memory.’ I hung my head.

  ‘Ah, pet, if you’ve fallen in love with Andrew and you have a proper marriage, then there’s no shame in that. And once this new child is born, Andrew’s troubling jealousy about Tom might wane. You know full well that Tom would want you to be happy. You have to be a bit kinder to yourself.’

  I wiped my eyes. ‘Easier said than done, Mam. Tom’s still in my heart, but I know it’s time to let him go, for the sake of this coming child, as well as for Rose. Andrew tries to be kind.’

  ‘Perhaps he could try harder. How far gone are you?’

  ‘Two moons, nearly three. It’s hard to be certain.’

  ‘Nearly three moons and your own mother not realising! What kind of midwife am I? I noted you were a little rounder in the face, but I put it down to your being contented. Why did you not say?’

  ‘Sorry, Mam. I couldn’t find the words and it’s so shaming. And yet it wasn’t shaming at all when I was carrying Rose, even in the house of correction.’

  Mam shook her head. ‘Don’t be so daft. Is Andrew pleased?’

  ‘Yes. He adores Rose, but I know he yearns for a lad.’

  ‘You should’ve said something, Jane. I could’ve gone to the apothecary myself.’

  ‘Thanks, Mam, but I’m two moons gone, not ten. Besides, I’d never let you set foot in Newcastle by yourself. All these tales lately. They say it’s no longer safe for a woman alone.’

  ‘You’re a thoughtful lass, but let’s slow down a little; we’ve made good time so far.’

  We continued following the River Derwent along its course until it widened into the Tyne at Gateshead. The stench from the Tyne turned my stomach, and I wondered at the hundreds of gulls swooping over the ships being loaded. My chin quivered at the sight of the vessels, still pained by the thought that Tom had been stolen away to a cold and lonely death at sea. Carts heaped with shining coals trundled to the quayside. Great coils of rope were piled high and there was a general commotion from horses and men as they laboured under the hot sun. The rope made me recoil and I was grateful that the stench from the Tyne drowned out the smell of the hem
p from the ropes. The merest scent might throw me straight back to those dark days in the house of correction. I closed my eyes briefly, grateful that Andrew had saved me. There was much to be grateful for and it would serve me well to remember it.

  We followed the Tyne until we reached the bridge, crossing our fingers as we set foot on it, and followed the line of people slowly crossing the stinking river. At the blue stone marking the boundary between Durham and Newcastle, the line slowed as people moved through the gate into the town, which was protected by a great wall of golden stone.

  ‘Oh, Mam, imagine how much swifter our journey if not for the town wall.’

  ‘Oh, Jane, imagine how much swifter the Scots’ journey if not for the town wall. Although they’ve had quite a go at taking it down by the looks of things. Still not properly fixed, I see.’

  In spite of my misgivings about Newcastle, I laughed at my mother’s proprietary air. ‘Mam, you talk as though you own the wall yourself.’

  But she did not return my smile and slowly shook her head instead. ‘Jane, curb your amusement and straighten your face until we pass through the gate. Look at the keen edge on the guards’ halberds and that should sober you nicely.’

  The first guard towered over us and there was no pleasantry from him when he spoke.

  ‘State your names, place of habitation, business and destination.’

  My mouth dried at the sight of the guards and their sharp blades, and I couldn’t speak.

  Mam answered him. ‘Annie Chandler and Jane Driver from Mutton Clog near Shotley Bridge. We’re here to trade with the apothecary – just off Amen Corner.’

  But the guard held us back. ‘Open your sacks.’

  Mam untied the sacks and opened them out for inspection.

  The guard poked through the sacks. ‘Explain the contents.’

  ‘Well, there are bottles of elder cough linctus made by my daughter and myself only yesterday, and some dried lavender flowers.’

  Although I’d done nothing wrong and wasn’t planning any wrongdoing, guilt washed through me and my hands shook.

  ‘Then move through, cunning women. But be certain you’re back outside the walls and on your way home before dusk.’

  While I tied the sacks, Mam passed two coins to the guard, who moved aside and admitted us to Newcastle. Already, a clump of people had built up behind us and tempers were rising in the heat. Why had we been singled out for a search and such an interrogation? What on earth did the guard think we were planning? I followed Mam through the stone tunnel and almost laughed when I emerged into daylight at the other side. We walked in silence for some time, but I had the troubling sensation that someone was at our back, listening.

  ‘Mam, let’s catch our breath for a few minutes and look at St Nicholas’ church.’ The hill was steep in this heat and it was a relief to stop and stare up at the high tower, with its intricate crown and spires.

  ‘It’s so beautiful. You know, I like this church much better than Durham’s cathedral.’

  ‘Well that’s no surprise, Jane. I imagine you never want to set foot in Durham again. Come on, if you’ve caught your breath, let’s go and look in the goldsmith’s window for a minute or two.’

  We spent so long savouring the glowing metal that the goldsmith’s wife chased us with her broom, accusing us of wearing away the sheen of the gold with our greedy eyes. Still laughing at the woman’s wrath, we reached the street that led to the apothecary. There, a great din arose and we turned to see what was going on. A silent woman was being led along on the end of a rope. The woman wore a hood of metal, which forced a metal prong into her mouth. Children skipped along beside this spectacle, jeering and tossing stones.

  Mam paled. ‘Dear God, not this barbaric practice again. Jane, avert your eyes at once.’

  A bystander leaned over and spoke to me. ‘Aye, lass, listen to your mother. It’s the Puritans. They do just as they please, taking no note of the law. I hoped never to clap eyes on the branks again, but it’s become a daily spectacle of late.’

  ‘Mam, what’s this … branks?’

  ‘It’s a scold’s bridle and it’s used to humiliate women.’

  ‘Why? What’s she done?’

  Mam lowered her voice and spoke softly into my ear. ‘Probably nothing, but she’ll have been accused of idle talk.’

  ‘But, Mam, surely it’s no sin to talk?’

  ‘Sometimes, pet, it’s sin enough to be a woman. We mustn’t tarry here, a pair of women gossiping in the street. Come on, hurry.’

  My eyes remained fixed on the woman, who was bleeding from the mouth. It was hard to believe we were laughing only moments ago and now the world had become a darker place. The visit to the apothecary had lost its shine. Finally, I tore my eyes from the suffering scold and turned towards the apothecary’s shop.

  It was a pretty building, which was fronted by glass divided into tiny frames. When we opened the door, all the heat and the noise from the streets of Newcastle vanished. We entered a quiet room that was light at the front, and darker and cooler at the back. It was just possible to make out the apothecary, his wife and their son at the back of the shop. Goodwife Keen said something to her menfolk, who vanished down the back stairs without haling us, and then she turned towards us.

  ‘Annie Chandler! And Jane! Well, I’ve been hoping to see you both … I hear there’s an early glut of elderberries this year.’

  ‘Hello, Goodwife Keen. It’s good of you to welcome us so warmly. And yes, quite a glut of elder for the back end of August.’

  ‘Now, come this way, and we’ll carry out our exchange first.’

  I smiled my greeting and watched as my mother turned out the sacks. In return, she was given five small vials of dark glass, which she tucked into her shawl. It didn’t seem such a fair exchange. But Mam must know what was in those vials, and so she must know their value and properties, even if she wouldn’t share the knowledge with me. I sighed and turned back to studying the shop, wondering where the apothecary and his son had gone. It wasn’t like them to leave the shop in the middle of the day. The stairs at the back of the room led down to the cellar where barrels of wine, oil and honey were kept, so perhaps they had deliveries to deal with. From the stairs came the muffled sound of men’s voices, hasty footsteps and then a door slamming. The apothecary’s son running a message, no doubt. I turned my attention back to the shop. On such a hot day, the smells were heavy on my senses. Many were so familiar that I barely noted them, but others were strange to me and these perfumes invaded my nose. I tried to be still, to take everything in and remember it, but knew it an impossible task.

  ‘Ah, Jane, still trying to inhale my whole shop in one lungful?’

  ‘Don’t mind my lass, Goodwife Keen, a trip to the town is always overwhelming for us country folk.’

  The apothecary’s wife laughed and beckoned us deeper into the shop. ‘You’ll take some ale, both of you and then show me your wares?’

  Mam paused before replying. ‘Aye, that we will, most gratefully. It’s been a hot road.’

  ‘Aye, I don’t doubt it, Annie.’ Goodwife Keen smoothed down her pinny. ‘And did you get across the bridge into the town all right?’

  ‘Mostly, only there was a little trouble with the guards at the gate.’

  The apothecary’s wife nodded. ‘It’s no surprise to me. They’re coming down heavily on cunning women of late. All women, in fact. Here, take some ale.’

  ‘Thank you most kindly. Jane, you may take your ale and go wandering, if Goodwife Keen permits?’

  She nodded assent, and I took my ale and wandered over to examine the shelves. Mam drank her ale because she was thirsty, but she would have preferred a light tisane of lemon balm, or failing that, camomile.

  ‘You’ll have seen the lass pinned inside the branks as you came by, Annie?’

  ‘Aye, we did. And what a dreadful sight it was.’

  Goodwife Keen topped up Mam’s cup. ‘Mind, the gossiping biddies bring it on themselves,
I dare say. The sergeants are ever vigilant of late. And they’re always round here asking questions.’

  At this, Mam leaned nearer to the apothecary’s wife. ‘Oh? What sort of questions?’

  Inside the apothecary’s shop was one of my favourite places to be, so while Mam exchanged tittle-tattle, I admired the wares. Three of the walls were shelved from floor to ceiling. The shelves contained hundreds of crocks, jars and bottles with powders, unguents, oils and tinctures from all over the world. Beneath the window was a wide chest with dozens of drawers. In the middle of the room stood a long table, which was covered with scales, measuring spoons and several mortars and pestles. From the ceiling hung wooden racks loaded with enormous bouquets of drying herbs. My fingers itched to let down these racks so that I could examine the mysterious plants. In the shop window were many curiosities. There was a human skull from a hanged man, the shell of a turtle from the South Seas and the shrivelled organ of an Indian tiger.

  So entranced was I by the medicinal cornucopia that I’d stopped listening to the conversation. Feeling guilty, I turned back to see Goodwife Keen refilling the cups with ale, even though Mam’s cheeks were already pink. Sharing information was an important part of our trade, but it was also possibly dangerous. If the men of Newcastle would fasten a woman inside the scold’s bridle just for idle gossip, what might they make of my mother’s chatter? I thought back to the guards at the gate, warning us to leave before sunset. And then I wondered about the sergeants who’d been coming around to ask questions. It made me worry about what Mam might be giving away.

  Before I could signal to Mam, the apothecary’s wife haled me. ‘Jane, I was just asking your mother whether God minds her carrying out the dark arts under His roof. What do you say?’

  Goodwife Keen’s query made me feel awkward. Unaccustomed to ale, Mam’s eyes were glassy and it was a struggle to read what was written there, so I chose to be careful in my reply.