My heart sank as I saw that the Spook was the next prisoner pulled down from the cart. They walked him toward the largest pyre and bound him to the central stake, but not once did he struggle. He still just looked bewildered. I remembered once more how he’d told me that burning was one of the most painful deaths imaginable and he didn’t hold with doing that to a witch. To watch him bound there, awaiting his fate, was unbearable. Some of the Quisitor’s men were carrying torches, and I imagined them lighting the pyres, the flames leaping up toward the Spook. It was too horrible to think about, and tears began streaming down my face.
I tried to recall what my master had said about something or someone watching what we do. If you lived your life right, he’d told me, in your hour of need it would stand at your side and lend you its strength. Well, he’d lived his life right and had done everything for what he thought was the best. So he deserved something. Surely?
If I’d been part of a family that went to church and prayed more, I’d have prayed then. The habit wasn’t in me and I didn’t know how, but without realizing it I whispered something to myself. I didn’t mean it to be a prayer, but I suppose it was one, really.
“Help him, please,” I whispered. “Please help him.”
Suddenly the hair on the back of my neck began to move and I instantly felt cold, very cold. Something from the dark was approaching. Something strong and very dangerous. I heard Alice give a sudden gasp and a deep groan, and immediately my vision darkened so that, when I turned and reached toward her, I couldn’t even see my hand before my face. The murmur of the crowd receded into the distance and everything grew still and quiet. I felt cut off from the rest of the world, alone in darkness.
I knew that the Bane had arrived. I couldn’t see anything, but I could sense it nearby, a vast dark spirit, a great weight that threatened to crush the life from me. I was terrified, for myself and for all the innocent people gathered there, but could do nothing but wait in the darkness for it to end.
When my eyes cleared, I saw Alice start forward. Before I could stop her, she walked out of the shadows and headed directly toward the Spook and the two executioners at the central pyre. The Quisitor was close by, watching. As she approached, I saw him turn his horse toward her and spur it into a canter. For a moment I thought he intended to ride her down, but he brought the animal to a halt, so close that Alice could have reached up and patted its nose.
A cruel smile split his face, and I knew that he recognized her as one of the escaped prisoners. What Alice did next, I’ll always remember.
In the sudden silence that had fallen she lifted her hands toward the Quisitor, pointing at him with both forefingers. Then she laughed long and loud and the sound echoed right across the hill, making the hair stand up on the back of my neck again. It was a laugh of triumph and defiance, and I thought how strange it was that the Quisitor was preparing to burn those people, all of them falsely accused, all of them innocents, while free and facing him was a real witch, with real power.
Next, Alice turned on her heels and began to spin, holding her arms stretched out horizontally. As I watched, dark spots began to appear on the nose and head of the Quisitor’s white stallion. At first I was puzzled and didn’t understand what was happening. But then the horse whinnied in fear and reared up on its hind legs, and I saw that droplets of blood were flying from Alice’s left hand. Blood from where the Bane had just fed.
There was a sudden overpowering wind, a blinding flash of lightning, and a clap of thunder so loud that it hurt my ears. I found myself on my knees and could hear people screaming and shouting. I looked back at Alice and saw that she was still spinning, whirling faster and faster. The white horse reared up again, this time unseating the Quisitor, who fell off backward onto the pyre.
Another flash of lightning and suddenly the edge of the pyre was alight, the flames crackling and the Quisitor on his knees with flames all around him. I saw some of the guards rush forward to help him, but the crowd was also moving forward, and one of the guards was dragged from his horse. Within moments a full-scale riot had begun. On all sides people were struggling and fighting. Others were running to escape, and the air was full of shouts and screams.
I dropped the bag and ran to my master, for the flames were traveling fast, threatening to engulf him. Without thinking, I charged straight across the pyre, feeling the heat of the flames, which were already starting to take hold on the larger pieces of wood.
I struggled to untie him, my fingers fumbling at the knots. To my left a man was trying to free the gray-haired woman they’d bound first. I panicked because I was getting nowhere. There were too many knots! They were too tight and the heat was building!
Suddenly there was a shout of triumph to my left. The man had freed the woman and one look told me how: He was holding a knife and had cut through the ropes with ease. He was starting to lead her away from the stake when he glanced toward me. The air was filled with shouts and screams and the crackle of the flames. Even if I’d shouted, he wouldn’t have heard me, so I simply held out my left hand toward him. For a moment he seemed to hesitate, staring at my hand, but then he tossed the knife in my direction.
It fell short, into the flames. Without even thinking, I plunged my hand deep into the burning wood and retrieved it. It took just seconds to slash through the ropes.
To have freed the Spook when he had been so close to burning gave me a great feeling of relief. But my happiness was short-lived. We were still far from being safe. The Quisitor’s men were all around us, and there was a strong possibility that we’d be spotted and caught. This time we’d both burn!
I had to get him away from the burning pyre to the darkness beyond, to somewhere we couldn’t be seen. It seemed to take an age. He leaned on me heavily and took small, unsteady steps. I remembered his bag, so we made for the spot where I’d dropped it. It was only by good fortune that we avoided the Quisitor’s men. Of their leader there was no sign, but in the distance I could see mounted men cutting down with their swords anyone within range. At any moment I expected one of them to charge at us. It was getting harder and harder to make progress; the burden of the Spook seemed to increase against my shoulder and I still had the weight of his bag in my right hand. But then someone else was holding his other arm and we were moving toward the darkness of the trees and safety.
It was Alice.
“I did it, Tom! I did it!” she shouted excitedly.
I wasn’t sure how to reply. Of course I was pleased, but I couldn’t approve of her method. “Where’s the Bane now?” I asked.
“Don’t you worry about that, Tom. I can tell when it’s near, and I don’t feel it anywhere now. Must have taken a lot of power to do what it just did, so I reckon it’s gone back to the dark for a while to build up its strength.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. “What about the Quisitor?” I asked. “I didn’t see what happened to him. Is he dead?”
Alice shook her head. “Burned his hands when he fell, that’s all. But now he knows what it’s like to burn!”
As she said that, I became aware of the pain in my own hand, the left one that was supporting the Spook. I looked down and saw that the back of it was raw and blistered. With each step I took the pain seemed to increase.
We crossed the bridge with a jostling crowd of frightened people, all hastening north, eager to be away from the riot and what would follow. Soon the Quisitor’s men would regroup, eager to recapture the prisoners and punish anyone who’d played a part in their escape. Anyone in their path would suffer.
Long before dawn we were clear of Priestown and spent the first few hours of daylight in the shelter of a dilapidated cattle shed, afraid that the Quisitor’s men might be nearby, searching for escaped prisoners.
The Spook hadn’t said a single word when I’d spoken to him, not even after I’d collected his staff and handed it to him. His eyes were still vacant and staring, as though his mind was in an entirely different place. I began to worry that the blo
w to his head was serious, which gave me little choice.
“We need to get him back to our farm,” I told Alice. “My mam will be able to help him.”
“Won’t take too kindly to seeing me, though, will she?” said Alice. “Not when she finds out what I’ve done. Neither will that brother of yours.”
I nodded, wincing at the pain in my hand. What Alice said was true. It would be better if she didn’t come with me, but I needed her to help with the Spook, who was far from steady on his feet.
“What’s wrong, Tom?” she asked. She’d noticed my hand and came across to take a look at it. “Soon fix that,” she said. “I won’t be long. . . .”
“No, Alice, it’s too dangerous!”
But before I could stop her, she slipped out of the shed. Ten minutes later she was back with some small pieces of bark and the leaves of a plant I didn’t recognize. She chewed the bark with her teeth until it was in small, fibrous pieces.
“Hold out your hand!” she commanded.
“What’s that?” I asked doubtfully, but my hand was really hurting, so I did as I was told.
Gently, she placed the small pieces of bark on the burn and wrapped my hand in the leaves. Then she teased a black thread from her dress and used that to bind them in position.
“Lizzie taught me this,” she said. “It’ll soon take away the pain.”
I was about to protest, but almost immediately the pain began to fade. It was a remedy taught to Alice by a witch. A remedy that worked. The ways of the world were strange. Out of evil good could come. And it wasn’t just my hand. Because of Alice and her pact with the Bane, the Spook had been saved.
CHAPTER XIV
Dad’s Tale
WE came in sight of the farm about an hour before sunset. I knew that Dad and Jack would just be starting the milking, so it was a good time to arrive. I needed a chance to speak to Mam on my own.
I hadn’t been back home since the spring, when the old witch, Mother Malkin, had paid my family a visit. Thanks to Alice’s bravery on that occasion, we’d destroyed her, but the incident had upset Jack and his wife, Ellie, and I knew they wouldn’t be keen on my staying after dark. Spooks’ business scared them, and they were worried that something might happen to their child. So I just wanted to help the Spook and then get back on the road as quickly as possible.
I was also aware that I was risking everyone’s lives by bringing the Spook and Alice to the farm. If the Quisitor’s men followed us here, they would have no mercy on those harboring a witch and a spook. I didn’t want to put my family in any more danger than I had to, so I decided to leave Alice and the Spook just outside the farm boundary. There was an old shepherd’s hut belonging to the nearest farm to us. They’d gone over to cattle, so it hadn’t been used for years. I helped Alice get the Spook inside and told her to wait there. That done, I crossed the field, heading directly toward the fence that bordered our farmyard.
When I opened the door to the kitchen, Mam was in her usual place in the corner next to the fire, sitting in her rocking chair. The chair was very still, and she just stared at me as I went in. The curtains were already closed, and in the brass candlestick the beeswax candle was alight.
“Sit down, son,” she invited, her voice low and soft. “Pull up a chair and tell me all about it.” She didn’t seem in the least bit surprised to see me.
It was what I was used to. Mam was often in demand when midwives encountered problems with a difficult birth, and eerily, she always knew when someone wanted her help long before the message arrived at the farm. She sensed these things, just as she’d sensed my approach. There was something special about my mam. She had gifts that someone like the Quisitor would want to destroy.
“Something bad’s happened, hasn’t it?” Mam said. “And what’s wrong with your hand?”
“It’s nothing, Mam. Just a burn. Alice fixed it. It doesn’t hurt at all now.”
Mam raised her eyebrows at the mention of Alice. “Tell me all about it, son.”
I nodded, feeling a lump come into my throat. I tried three times before I was able to get my first sentence out. When I did manage to speak, it all came out in a rush.
“They almost burned Mr. Gregory, Mam. The Quisitor caught him in Priestown. We’ve escaped, but they’ll be after us, and the Spook’s not well. He needs help. We all do.”
The tears started to run down my face as I admitted to myself what was now bothering me most of all. The main reason I hadn’t wanted to go to the beacon fell was because I’d been scared. I’d been afraid that they’d catch me and that I would burn as well.
“What on earth were you doing in Priestown?” Mam asked.
“Mr. Gregory’s brother died and his funeral was there. We had to go.”
“You’re not telling me everything,” Mam said. “How did you escape from the Quisitor?”
I didn’t want Mam to know what Alice had done. You see, Mam had once tried to help Alice, and I didn’t want her to know how she’d finally ended up, turning to the dark as the Spook had always feared.
But I had no choice. I told her the full story. When I’d finished, Mam sighed deeply. “It’s bad, really bad,” she said. “The Bane on the loose doesn’t bode well for anyone in the County—and a young witch bound to its will— well, I fear for us all. But we’ll just have to make the best of it. That’s all we can do. I’ll get my bag and go and see what I can do for poor Mr. Gregory.”
“Thanks, Mam,” I told her, suddenly realizing that all I’d talked about had been my own troubles. “But how are things here? How’s Ellie’s baby doing?” I asked.
Mam smiled, but I detected a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Oh, the baby’s doing fine, and Ellie and Jack are happier than they’ve ever been. But son,” she said, touching my arm gently, “I’ve got some bad news for you, too. It’s about your dad. He’s been very ill.”
I stood up, hardly able to believe what she was saying. The look on her face told me that it was serious.
“Sit down, son,” she said, “and listen carefully before you start getting all upset. It’s bad, but it could have been a lot worse. It started as a heavy cold, but then it got on his chest and turned to pneumonia and we nearly lost him. He’s on the mend now, I hope, but he’ll need to wrap up well this winter. I’m afraid he won’t be able to do much on the farm anymore. Jack will just have to cope without him.”
“I could help out, Mam.”
“No, son, you’ve got your own job to do. With the Bane free and your master weakened, the County needs you more than ever. Look, let me just go up first and tell your dad that you’re here. And I wouldn’t say anything about the trouble you’ve had. We don’t want to give him any bad news or nasty shocks. We’ll just keep that to ourselves.”
I waited in the kitchen, but a couple of minutes later Mam came back downstairs, carrying her bag.
“Well, you go up and see your dad while I go and help your master. He’s glad that you’re back, but don’t keep him talking too long. He’s still very weak.”
Dad was sitting in bed, propped up on several pillows. He smiled weakly when I came into the room. His face was gaunt and tired, and there was a gray stubble on his chin that made him look much older.
“What a nice surprise, Tom. Sit down,” he said, nodding toward the chair at the side of the bed.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “If I’d known you were ill, I’d have come home sooner to see you.”
Dad held up his hand as if to say it didn’t matter. Then he began to cough violently. He was supposed to be getting better, so I wouldn’t like to have heard him when he was really ill. The room had a smell of illness. The hint of something you never smelled outdoors. Something that only lingers in sickrooms.
“How’s the job going?” he asked when he’d finally stopped choking.
“Not bad. I’m getting used to it now and I prefer it to farming,” I said, pushing all that had happened to the very back of my mind.
“Farming too dull for you, eh?
” he asked with a faint smile. “Mind you, I wasn’t always a farmer.”
I nodded. In his younger days Dad had been a seaman. He’d told lots of tales of the places he’d visited. They’d been rich stories, full of color and excitement. His eyes always shone with a faraway look when he remembered those times. I wanted to see that spark of life return to them.
“Aye, Dad,” I said, “tell me one of your stories. The one about that huge whale.”
He paused for a moment, then grabbed my hand, pulling me closer. “Reckon there’s one story I needs be telling you, son, before it’s too late.”
“Don’t talk daft,” I said, shocked by this turn in the conversation.
“Nay, Tom, I’m hoping to see another spring and summer, but I don’t think I’m long for this world. I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and I reckon it’s time I told you what I know. I wasn’t expecting to see you for a while, but you’re here now and who knows when I’ll see you next?” He paused and then said, “It’s about your mother—how we met and the like.”
“You’ll see lots of springs, Dad,” I said, but I was surprised. For all my father’s wonderful stories, there was one he’d never told properly: how he’d met Mam. We could always tell that he never really wanted to talk about it. He either changed the subject or told us to go and ask her. We never did. When you’re a child, there are things you don’t understand but just don’t ask about. You know that your dad and mam don’t want to tell you. But today was different.
He shook his head wearily, then bowed it low, as if a great burden was pressing down on his shoulders. When he straightened up again, the faint smile was back on his face.
“I’m not sure she’ll thank me for telling you, mind, so let’s keep this between ourselves. I’ll not be telling your brothers either, and I’d ask you to do the same, son. But I think in your line of work, and you being a seventh son of a seventh son and all, well . . .”
The Last Apprentice: Complete Collection Page 31