“That sexton of yours could do with a strong word in his ear,” said the Spook bluntly. “I’ve seen tidier churchyards.”
Father Stocks sighed. “He left nearly a month ago. Went back to stay with family in Colne. It didn’t come as any surprise, though—I knew he was getting more and more nervous about tending the churchyard. Three graves have been robbed in the last eight weeks—that’s the work of witches—so an untidy churchyard is the least of our worries.”
“Well, Father, while you’re away I’ll get my lad to tidy up here a bit anyway.”
We waved Father Stocks off, and then the Spook turned to me. “Well, you know how to use a scythe, lad, so let’s make sure you don’t lose what skill you have through lack of practice. You can tidy up that graveyard. It should keep you busy until I return.”
“Where are you going?” I asked in surprise. “I’d thought the idea was for us to stay in Downham while Father Stocks searches for my family.”
“It was, lad, but scared parishioners and grave robbing suggests that the village is nowhere near as safe as I thought. I always like to find things out for myself, so while Father Stocks is away, I’ll scratch about a bit and see what turns up. In the meantime, get your back into clearing the grass and weeds!”
CHAPTER V
The Three Sisters
I found the sexton’s scythe in a shed at the side of the house, and after taking off my cloak and rolling up my shirt sleeves, I started to cut the grass and weeds as instructed. I began in the areas where the tombstones were horizontal, because that was easier.
It was hard work, but I’d often used a scythe back home on the farm and I’d kept my hand in by cutting the grass in the Spook’s garden, so I soon got into the swing of it. I could cope with being warm, but as midafternoon approached, the sun grew fierce and the heat and exertion started the sweat trickling down into my eyes. It seemed sensible to take a break and start again later.
There was a well behind the house, and I wound up the bucket to find it full of water as cold and delicious as that from the felltop streams near Chipenden. After slaking my thirst I sat down, rested my back against the trunk of a yew tree, and closed my eyes. Listening to the drone of insects, I soon became drowsy, and at some point I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I remember was a dog barking somewhere in the distance. I opened my eyes to find that it was nearly evening and I still had more than half the graveyard to clear. Expecting the Spook or Father Stocks back at any moment, I immediately set to work again.
By the time the sun started to go down, I’d just about finished the cutting. The grass needed collecting up, but I decided that would keep until morning. My master and the priest still hadn’t returned. I was on my way back to the house, just starting to worry, when I heard a faint noise beyond the low boundary wall to my left: a soft footfall in the grass.
“Well, you’ve certainly made a good job of that,” said a girl’s voice. “Not been as tidy as that for many a long month!”
“Alice!” I cried, spinning round to face her.
But it wasn’t Alice, even though her voice had sounded very similar. Standing on the other side of the low wall was a girl of about the same size, although perhaps a little older; and while Alice had brown eyes and black hair, this stranger had green eyes like my own, and pale hair that hung down over her shoulders. She was wearing a threadbare, pale blue summer frock with raggedy sleeves and holes in the elbows.
“I’m not Alice, but I know where she’s to be found,” said the girl. “She sent me to get you. Said you were to come right away. ‘Bring Tom to me,’ she said. ‘I need help! Bring him right away.’ Mind you, she didn’t let on how fetching you were. A lot better looking than your old master!”
I felt myself blush. My instincts told me not to trust the girl. She was pleasant enough to look at and her eyes were large and bright, but there was something a little shifty about the way her mouth moved when she spoke.
“Where is Alice? Why couldn’t she come with you?”
“She’s not too far over yonder,” the girl said, gesturing roughly south. “Ten minutes at the most, that’s all it is. Couldn’t come because she’s got a bind on her—”
“A bind? What’s that?” I asked.
“You a spook’s apprentice and never heard of a spell of binding? That’s shameful. Your master’s not educating you right. Alice is spellbound. They’ve got her on a short leash. Can’t travel more than a hundred paces from where they cast it. Better than chains if it’s done right. But I can get you close enough to see her—”
“Who did it?” I demanded. “Who cast the spell?”
“Who else but the Mouldheels?” the girl replied. “Think she’s a traitorous little witch. They’ll make her suffer for sure!”
“I’ll go and get my staff,” I told her.
“There’s no time for that. No time to waste. She’s in serious trouble.”
“Wait here,” I told her firmly. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
That said, I ran across to the house, collected my staff, then sprinted back to where the girl was waiting and climbed over the wall to join her. I glanced at her feet just in case she was wearing pointy shoes, but to my surprise her feet were bare. She saw me staring down at them and smiled. When she smiled, she looked really pretty.
“Don’t need shoes in summer,” she said. “Like to feel the warm grass under my feet and the cool breeze against my ankles. Anyway, they call me Mab—that’s my name if you need it.”
She turned and set off at a fast pace, heading toward Pendle Hill. There was still some light in the sky to the west, but very soon it would be completely dark. I didn’t know the area, and it would probably have been a good idea to bring a lantern. But my eyes work better in the dark than most people’s, and after about ten minutes or so the waning moon came up from behind a bank of trees and cast a pale light over everything.
“How much farther?” I asked.
“Ten minutes at the most,” Mab answered.
“You said that when we set off!” I protested.
“Did I? Must have been wrong then. Sometimes I get confused. When I’m walking, I go off into my own little world. Time just flies by.”
We were climbing onto the edge of the moor that skirted the north of Pendle Hill. It was at least another thirty minutes before we reached our destination—a small rounded knoll covered with trees and thick bushes on the edge of a wood. The great dark bulk of Pendle loomed up behind it.
“Up there in the trees,” she said, “that’s where we’ll wait for Alice.”
I looked up into the darkness beneath the trees and felt uneasy. What if I were walking into some sort of trap? The girl seemed to know about spells. She might have used Alice’s name to lure me here.
“Where is Alice now?” I asked suspiciously.
“Got her in a forester’s cottage just back there in the trees. Too dangerous for you to go closer at the moment. It’s best if we wait up here until the time’s right for you to see her.”
I wasn’t happy with what Mab had suggested. Despite the danger, I wanted to see Alice straightaway, but I decided to bide my time.
“You lead the way,” I told her, gripping my rowan staff tightly.
Mab gave a little smile and moved up into the cover of the trees. I followed cautiously, climbing up a twisting path through bushes and tangled brambles, alert for danger, my staff at the ready. I started to glimpse lights ahead and felt even more uneasy. Was there someone else waiting above?
At the very top of the hill there was a clearing with a number of tree stumps forming a rough oval. It looked as if the trees had been felled for the purpose of providing seats, and to my surprise, two girls were already seated waiting for us, each with a lantern at her feet. Neither one was Alice. Both appeared to be slightly younger. They stared toward me with wide, unblinking eyes.
“These are my younger sisters,” Mab said. “The one on the left is Jennet, the other’s called Beth, but I
wouldn’t bother too much about their names if I were you. They’re twins and impossible to tell apart!”
I had to agree: They looked identical. Their hair was the same color and length as Mab’s, but there the resemblance to their older sister ended. Both were very thin, with sharp, pinched faces and piercing eyes. Their mouths were hard, horizontal slits in their faces, and their narrow noses were slightly hooked. They wore thin, threadbare dresses like Mab and their feet were also bare.
I gripped my staff harder. Mab’s two sisters were still staring at me intently, but there was absolutely no expression on their faces; no way to tell whether they were hostile or friendly.
“Sit yourself down, Tom, and take the weight off your feet,” Mab said, pointing to one of the tree stumps opposite her sisters. “It might be some while before we can go to Alice.”
Warily I did so. Mab sat down on the stump to my left. Nobody spoke, and an odd silence seemed to settle over everything. To fill in the time, I counted the stumps. There were thirteen, and it suddenly struck me that this could be a meeting place for a coven of witches.
No sooner had that disturbing thought entered my head than a bat swooped down into the clearing before flitting away through the branches to my left. Next a big moth appeared from nowhere and, rather than flying toward one of the lanterns, began to circle Jennet’s head. Round and round it fluttered, as if her head were a candle flame. She was still staring at me hard, and I wondered if she’d even noticed the moth, which was getting closer and closer and seemed about to settle on her pointy nose.
Suddenly, to my astonishment, her mouth opened wide and her tongue flicked out, caught the moth, and drew it in. Then, for the first time, her face became animated. She gave a broad smile, her mouth curving from ear to ear. Then she chewed quickly and swallowed down the moth with a big gulp.
“Was that good?” her sister Beth inquired, peering sideways at her.
Jennet nodded. “Really juicy. Don’t worry—you can have the next one.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” said Beth. “But what if another don’t come?”
“In that case we’ll play a game, and I’ll let you choose what it is,” Jennet offered.
“Let’s play Pin Spitting. I like that game.”
“That’s because you always win. You know I can only spit pins on Friday. Wednesday today, it is. I only do feathers on Wednesdays, so it’ll have to be something else.”
“What about Through a Hedge Backward?” suggested Beth.
“Good game, that,” said Jennet. “First to the bottom wins!”
To my astonishment, they both fell back from their tree stumps and did reverse rolls, spinning faster and faster until they disappeared into the bushes and brambles behind. For a few moments you could hear them crashing downward with a great snapping and cracking of twigs, punctuated by shrieks of pain and bursts of hysterical laughter. Then there was silence, and somewhere close by I heard the cry of an owl. I looked up into the branches but could see no sign of it.
“Love that game, my sisters do!” Mab said with a smile. “But they’ll be licking their wounds tonight, just as sure as eggs rot!”
A few moments later the twins climbed back up the path. When they sat down opposite me again, I didn’t know whether to laugh at the state of them or feel really sorry for the pain and discomfort they must be going through. Their threadbare dresses were torn—Jennet’s left sleeve had been ripped off completely—and they were covered in cuts and scratches. Beth had a piece of bramble tangled up in her hair and there was a thin line of blood trickling down from her nose to her upper lip. But she didn’t seem at all dismayed.
“I really enjoyed that! Let’s play another game,” she suggested, licking away the blood. “What about Truth or Dare? I like that, too.”
“Fine with me. But make the boy go first,” Jennet said, squinting toward me.
“Truth, dare, kiss, or promise?” Beth demanded, staring right at me, a challenge in her voice. All three girls were watching me now, and none of them were blinking.
“I don’t want to play,” I said firmly.
“Be nice to my younger sisters,” Mab insisted. “Go on, choose. It’s only a game.”
“I don’t know the rules,” I said. It was true. I’d never heard of the game. It sounded like a game that girls would play, and I hadn’t had any sisters. I didn’t know much about girls’ games.
“It’s easy,” said Mab from my left. “You just choose one of the four. Choose truth and you have to answer a question truthfully. Choose dare and you’re set a task. Pick kiss and you have to kiss who or what you’re told to—there’s no getting away from it. Promise is hardest of all. Have to make one, and bound by it, you are—maybe bound forever!”
“No! I don’t want to play,” I repeated.
“Don’t be silly. Don’t have any choice, do you? Can’t leave this spot until we say so. You’re rooted to it— hadn’t you noticed?”
I’d been growing more and more annoyed. It seemed to me now that Mab had been playing some sort of game with me from the moment we’d first met at the graveyard. I didn’t believe for one moment that we were going to rescue Alice. What a fool I’d been! Why had I followed her here?
When I tried to stand, though, nothing happened. It was as if all the strength had left my body. My arms fell uselessly to my sides and my rowan staff slipped from my grasp onto the grass and rolled away.
“You’re better off without that nasty stick,” Mab said. “You go first—it’s time to choose one of the four. You’ll play our game whether you want to or not. You’ll play, and you’ll like it. So choose!”
By now I had no doubt at all that the three of them were witches. My staff was out of reach and I felt too weak to stand up. I wasn’t afraid because somehow it seemed more like dreaming than waking, but I knew that I wasn’t asleep and that I was in danger. So I took a slow, deep breath and thought carefully. Better to humor them for a bit. While they were concentrating on the game, I might find a way to get free.
But which one of the four options should I choose? Dare could lead to some type of dangerous task that I might be forced to carry out. Promise was full of risk. I’d made promises before that had gotten me into trouble. Kiss seemed harmless. How could a kiss hurt you? But then I remembered that she’d said “who or what,” and I didn’t like the sound of that at all. Even so, I almost chose that option, but then I decided on truth instead. I always tried to be honest and truthful. It was something that my dad had taught me. What harm could come from choosing that?
“Truth,” I said.
At my answer the girls all smiled broadly, as if it was exactly the option they’d wanted me to pick.
“Right!” said Mab triumphantly, turning to face me. “Tell me this and be truthful. And you’d better, if you know what’s good for you. Wouldn’t do to cross us! Which one of us do you like best?”
I looked at Mab in astonishment. I’d had no idea what kind of question I’d be asked, but this was like a bolt from the blue. And it wasn’t easy to answer. Whichever one I picked, the other two would be offended. And I wasn’t even sure what the truth was. All three girls were scary and almost certainly witches. I didn’t like any of them. So what else could I do? I told them the truth.
“I don’t like any of you that much,” I said. “I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s the truth you wanted and it’s the plain truth I’ve given you.”
All three let out a simultaneous hiss of anger. “That’s not good enough,” Mab said, her voice low and dangerous. “You have to choose one of us.”
“Then it’s you, Mab. You were the one I saw first. So it might as well be you.”
I’d spoken instinctively, without thinking, but Mab smiled. It was a self-satisfied smile, as if she’d known she was going to be chosen all along.
“It’s my turn now,” said Mab, turning away from me to face her sisters. “I’ll take kiss!”
“Then kiss Tom!” Jennet exclaimed. “Kiss him now and m
ake him yours forever!”
At that, Mab stood up and walked across to face me directly. She leaned down and put a hand on each of my shoulders. “Look up at me!” she commanded.
I felt weak. All my willpower seemed to have deserted me. I did as I was told: I looked up into her green eyes, and her face came closer to mine. Her face was pretty, but her breath stank like that of a dog or a cat. The world started to spin and, but for the firm grip of Mab’s hands on my shoulders, I would have fallen backward off the stump.
Then, just as her warm lips pressed softly against mine, I felt a succession of searing pains in my left forearm. It was as if someone had stabbed it four times with a long, sharp pin.
In agony, I lurched to my feet and, with a gasp, Mab fell away from me, onto the grass. I looked at my forearm. There were four scars on it, vivid in the moonlight, and I remembered what had caused them. Alice had once gripped my left forearm so hard that her fingernails had gone deep into my flesh. When she’d released me, there were four bright red beads of blood where her nails had cut me.
Days later, on our way to her aunt’s place in Staumin, Alice had touched the scars on my arm. And I remembered exactly what she’d said.
Put my brand on you there . . . That won’t ever fade away.
I hadn’t been sure what she meant, and she had never really explained herself. Then again, in Priestown, we’d quarreled and I was about to go my own way when Alice had shouted out: You’re mine. You belong to me!
At the time I hadn’t really thought that much about it. Now I began to wonder if there was more to it than I’d realized: Alice and the three girls seemed to believe that a witch could somehow make you hers for life. Whatever the truth of it, I had broken free of Mab’s power, and somehow it was due to Alice.
As Mab struggled angrily to her feet, I showed her the scars on my arm.
“I can’t be yours forever, Mab,” I told her, the words flying into my mouth as if by magic. “I already belong to someone else. I belong to Alice!”
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