They had no time to register surprise. No time to take a breath. Before they could react, before I could even take a step forward, Mab and Alice attacked. They pounced like lithe cats, claws outstretched, leaping toward startled birds pecking for worms. But these weren’t birds, and they couldn’t fly. They retreated and suddenly disappeared off the steps, screaming as they fell. The sound of them hitting the ground below made me shudder.
The lantern had fallen in the doorway, and the candle within was still alight. Mab picked it up and held it over the steps, looking down into the stairwell.
“Got a bit o’ light to see by now,” she said. “That should make things easier.”
When she turned back toward us, she was smiling and her eyes were cruel. “They won’t be a bother now. Nothing so good as a dead Malkin,” she said with a glance at Alice. “Time to go up the steps.”
By contrast, I could see that Alice was shaking, and she crossed her arms over her stomach tightly, as if she were about to be sick.
From above there came a new sound, grinding and metallic.
“The soldier boys are inside now,” Mab said. “That’ll be the sound o’ the drawbridge being lowered. Time to go up, Tom—”
“I still say we should go down and follow the Malkins,” Alice said firmly.
“No, Alice. We’ll go up. I feel that’s the right thing to do,” I told her.
“Why take her side, Tom? Why let her twist you round her little finger?” Alice protested.
“Come on, Alice! I’m not taking sides. I’m trusting my instincts like my master always says. Help me, please,” I pleaded. “Help me carry Jack up the steps. . . .”
For a moment I thought she wasn’t going to respond, but then she came back into the cell to help. As she bent to lift Jack, I could see that her hands were shaking.
“Carry my staff, Ellie,” I said, holding it out toward her. “I might need it later.”
Ellie looked afraid and was probably in shock, her mind reeling from what had just happened. But, still carrying her child, she accepted my staff, gripping it firmly in her left hand. I heaved Jack up by the shoulders and Alice took his legs. He was a dead weight and it was bad enough having to lift him, never mind carry him up the steps. We struggled along, with Ellie following behind. It was backbreaking work and we had to rest every twenty steps or so. Mab was getting farther and farther ahead, the light from the lantern growing dimmer.
“Mab!” I called up after her. “Slow down. We can’t keep up!”
She ignored me, not even bothering to look back. I was afraid that she would go up to the floor above, leaving us alone in the dark on those dangerous narrow steps. But my fears proved unfounded. The witches had locked the upper hatch behind them, no doubt hoping to delay their pursuers. Mab was sitting there below it, grim-faced, waiting for Alice to use my key to unlock it. However, she was still first through, and we followed as best we could. Only after we’d pulled Jack up and lowered him carefully to the floor did I have time to look about me.
We were in a long room with a low roof; in one corner there were sacks of potatoes piled right up to the ceiling, with a mound of turnips close by. Above another heap, this time of carrots, salted hams hung from the ceiling on great hooks. The room wasn’t dark and we no longer needed the lantern. A shaft of daylight lit the far end, where Mab was standing with her back to us. I walked toward her, with Alice at my shoulder.
Mab was standing in front of an open door. She was gazing with fascination at something on the floor. Something that had been left behind in this storeroom.
There were the three large trunks that the witches had stolen from me. Mab had reached them at last—but she still didn’t have the keys.
CHAPTER XVI
Mam’s Trunks
I looked up beyond the trunks and through the open doorway into broad daylight and silence. The air was full of dust motes, but where were the soldiers?
“It’s too quiet out there,” I said.
Alice nodded. “Let’s go and see,” she suggested.
Together we walked through into a large room, the cluttered living quarters of the Malkins. There were dirty sheets and sacks on the floor for sleeping on, and against the walls were piles of animal bones and the remains of old meals. But some of the food was fresh; broken plates and uneaten food littered the flags. It looked as if the wall had been breached while the Malkins were still eating breakfast and they’d fled, leaving everything behind.
The ceiling was far above, with more steps spiraling up the inside of the tower. There was a smell of cooking smoke, but that masked the medley of stenches beneath it: unwashed bodies; rotting food; too many people living closely together for too long. Stones from the wall had tumbled down in a heap, crushing a table and scattering cooking pots and cutlery, and through that breach I could glimpse the trees of Crow Wood.
The gap was narrow but just wide enough to admit a man. Soldiers had obviously been inside, because the huge door was flung back and the drawbridge had been lowered. And there, in the distance, far beyond the moat, I could see them—soldiers in red coats, scurrying about like ants. They were hitching the gun carriage to the shire horses, preparing to move off, it seemed. But why hadn’t they pursued the Malkins? It would have been easy enough for them to smash through the hatch and get down into the levels below. Why hadn’t they finished the job after going to so much trouble? And where was Master Nowell, the magistrate?
I heard a noise behind me, the slap of bare feet against cold flags, and turned to see that Mab had come into the room. She was smiling triumphantly.
“Couldn’t have been better! Didn’t just poison the water so we could free you,” she crowed, looking directly at me. “Had another reason. We didn’t want those gunners to see the Pendle beacon last night. Needed ’em to go to work this morning and blast a hole in the tower so that we could get the trunks out. And word must have come from the barracks at Colne, summoning ’em back. Well, we’ve done with ’em now, so the soldier boys can rush off to war and get themselves killed.”
“War?” I demanded. “What war? What do you mean?”
“A war that’ll change everything!” Mab crowed. “An invader’s crossed the sea and landed far to the south. But although it’s a great distance away, all the counties will have to band together and play their part. I saw it all! I saw the beacons sending their message from county to county, ordering the soldiers back to barracks, the fire seeming to leap from hilltop to hilltop. Saw the war coming. Scryed it all, I did. But it was all about timing in the end. Better than Tibb, I am.”
“Oh, stop your crowing!” said Alice, trying to deflate her. “You can’t see everything. You’re not half as clever as you think you are. You can’t see what’s in Tom’s boxes and you couldn’t see the way into the tower. That’s why you had to torture poor Maggie. Didn’t see the wight coming either!”
“Didn’t do too badly though, did I? But you’re right, I could do even better. It all depends on the ritual. Depends on the night it’s done. Depends whose blood I drink,” Mab said slyly. “Tom’s little niece would do the trick. Give me her blood at Lammas and I could see it all. All I want to see. Now give me the keys to those trunks, and I’ll let you go.”
Sickened by what she’d just said, I raised my staff. I would have brought it crashing down on her head, but she just smiled at me as bold as brass and pointed through the big wooden door. My gaze followed her finger and there, beyond the drawbridge, I saw something that made my heart plummet into my boots.
The soldiers in red coats had gone. There were no shire horses. No gun carriage. Instead there were figures walking out of the trees and crossing the tussocky grass toward us. Others were much closer to the drawbridge—women in long gowns carrying blades. Mab had planned it all, down to the tiniest detail.
The Malkins had fled down the tunnels. The soldiers had gone off to war, leaving the job unfinished. And now the Mouldheels were coming for the trunks. Mab had always intended to get them ou
t of the tower this way. She had scryed well enough to win. The plan Alice and I had hatched was hopeless. Mab had outwitted us, and we couldn’t get the better of her now. I felt sick to my stomach. Ellie and Jack would be prisoners again—and the threat to their child was real. The cruel expression on Mab’s face told me that.
“Think about it, Tom,” she continued. “You owe me. I could have waited in the woods with the others, couldn’t I? Just waited in safety for the soldiers to leave, just as I knew they would. Instead, I risked my life getting you into the tower so you could save your family. I saw what was going to happen. That the Malkins would have cut their throats as they escaped. I saw it as plain as the nose on your face; saw them coming into the cell with their blades. And I helped you save them. But I didn’t just do it for nothing. You know what we agreed. So you owe me plenty. We have a bargain, and I hold you to it! I always keep my word, and I expect you to do the same!”
“You’re too clever for your own good!” Alice said, suddenly seizing Mab by the upper arm. “But it ain’t over yet. Not by a long way. Come on, Tom. We’ve got the lantern. We can escape back down the tunnels!”
So saying, she forced Mab back into the storeroom and I followed at her heels, the possibilities whirling inside my head. The Malkins would still be down there, but they would be heading for the sepulchre entrance and might be well away by the time we reached it. It gave us half a chance. Better than staying here, at the mercy of the Mouldheels.
Ellie was on her knees beside Jack, who was breathing heavily, his eyes closed. Mary was clutching at her mother’s skirts, close to tears.
“Quick, Ellie, you’ll have to help me,” I said softly. “There’s more danger ahead. We need to go back down the tunnels as fast as we can. You’ll have to help me carry Jack.”
Ellie looked up at me, her expression a mixture of anguish and bewilderment. “We can’t move him again, Tom. Not down there. It’s too much to ask. He’s too ill—he won’t be able to stand it—”
“We’ve got to, Ellie. We’ve no choice.”
Mab started to laugh, but Alice pulled her hair sharply.
As I moved to grasp Jack under the arms, Ellie shook her head and fell across his chest, using the weight of her body to prevent me from trying to lift him. Desperate, I considered telling her about the threat to her daughter. It was the only thing I could think of to get her moving.
But I said nothing. It was already too late. The Mouldheels were already coming into the room—a dozen of them at least, among them Mab’s sisters, Beth and Jennet. The group formed a circle about us, staring at us with cold, pitiless eyes, ready to use their blades.
Alice looked at me, her own eyes full of despair. I shrugged hopelessly, and she released Mab.
“I should kill you now,” Mab said to Alice, almost spitting the words out. “But a bargain’s a bargain. Once the trunks are open, you can leave with the rest. Now, Tom, it’s up to you.”
I shook my head. “I won’t do it, Mab,” I said. “The trunks belong to me.”
Mab leaned forward, grabbed Mary by the arm, and dragged her away from her mother. Beth threw her a knife, and she caught it expertly and held it toward the child’s throat. As the little girl began to cry, her face filled with anguish, Ellie ran at Mab but didn’t manage more than two steps before she was flung to the floor and pinned there, a knee in her back.
“Give me the keys or I’ll take the child’s life now!” Mab commanded.
I lifted my staff, measuring the distance between us. But I knew I couldn’t strike quickly enough. And what if I did? The others would be on me in seconds.
“Give them the keys, Tom!” screamed Ellie. “For pity’s sake, don’t let them hurt her!”
I had a duty to the County, and because of that responsibility I’d already risked the lives of Ellie’s family by refusing before. But this was too much. Mary was now screaming hysterically, more upset by the plight of her mother than by the threat from the knife. Mab was going to kill her while I watched, and I couldn’t bear it. I let the staff fall from my hands. I bowed my head, sick with despair.
“Don’t hurt her, Mab,” I pleaded. “Please don’t hurt her. Don’t hurt any of them. Let them all go and I’ll give you the keys. . . .”
Alice, Ellie, and Mary were taken out of the tower and escorted toward the distant trees; two of the witches carried Jack between them like a sack of potatoes. After I’d agreed to surrender the keys, Alice hadn’t spoken again. Her face was a blank. I’d no idea what she was thinking.
“They’ll stay under guard in the wood,” Mab said. “They can go free when the trunks are open and not a moment before. But you’re not going anywhere. You’re staying here, Tom. And we’ll be cozy without Alice—that Malkin–Deane cross-breed—getting in our way. Well then, give me the keys and let’s get started.”
I didn’t argue. I felt helpless. The whole situation was a nightmare that I couldn’t find my way out of. I’d let down the County, the Spook, and my mam. With a heavy heart I pulled the keys from my neck and gave them to her. She walked across to the trunks and I followed, standing meekly at her side. Only Beth and Jennet had stayed in the room with us, but more armed Mouldheels were just outside, guarding the door.
“Which one should I open first?” Mab asked, smiling at me sideways.
I shrugged.
“Three trunks and three of us,” Beth called out from behind. “That’s one each. You choose quick, Mab, then we can open ours. My turn next.”
“Why should I go last?” Jennet complained.
“Don’t worry,” Beth replied. “If I choose wrong, you might get the best.”
“No!” Mab hissed, whirling to face her sisters. “All three trunks belong to me. If you’re lucky, I might give you a gift each. Now, be quiet and don’t spoil it for me. I’ve worked hard to get these.”
The twins flinched away from Mab’s hostile gaze, and she turned her attention back to the trunks. Suddenly she knelt and inserted one of the three small keys into the lock of the central trunk. She wriggled the key about, but it wouldn’t turn, and with a frown of annoyance she tried another trunk. When that also failed to unlock, Jennet giggled.
“Third time should do it, sister!” she taunted. “Not your lucky day, is it?”
When even the third trunk failed to yield to the key, Mab came to her feet and faced me, her eyes blazing with anger. “These the right keys?” she demanded. “If this is a trick, you’ll be more than sorry!”
“Try one of the other keys,” I suggested.
Mab did so, but the result was the same. “Think I’m stupid?” she shouted. Then her expression became cruel and she turned to Jennet. “Go and bring the child here!”
“No,” I said. “Please don’t do that, Mab. Try the other key. Maybe that’ll work. . . .”
By now I was anxious, and my palms began to sweat. It had been bad enough surrendering the keys in the first place. But if they wouldn’t open the trunks, I knew that Mab’s revenge would be terrible and that she’d start by hurting the child. What was wrong? I wondered if the trunks would open only if I held the key. Could that be possible?
Mab knelt again and tried the third key. The first two trunks again failed to open but, to my relief, the third gave a click and the key finally turned. She looked up with a smile of triumph and then slowly lifted the heavy wooden lid.
The trunk was full, but of what exactly it was not possible to see yet. A large piece of white material was neatly folded on top. Mab lifted it up, and as it unfurled, I saw that it was a dress. Suddenly I realized it was a wedding dress. Was it Mam’s? It seemed likely. Why else would she keep it in her trunk?
“Too big for me, this is!” Mab said with a smirk, holding it up against her body, the hem trailing on the floor. “What d’you think, Tom? Look rather fetching, don’t I?”
She was holding the dress the wrong way around, the back facing me, and with a gasp I made out the line of buttons running from neck to hem. I’d no time to count t
hem, but I saw enough to suspect that they were made of bone. The last time I’d seen buttons like those they were on a dress worn by Meg Skelton, the lamia witch who’d lived with the Spook at Anglezarke. Was my mother’s wedding gown fastened by bones like a lamia witch’s dress?
Mab threw the dress to Jennet. “Gift for you, Jennet!” she called. “You’ll grow into it one day! Just have to be patient, that’s all.”
Jennet caught it, screwing up her face in disgust. “Don’t want this old dress! You have it, Beth,” she said, passing it to her twin.
By now Mab had pulled a second item from the trunk. It was another garment. Again she held it against her body, trying it for size, even though it was evidently a man’s shirt.
Instantly I guessed what it was: Dad’s shirt—the one he’d used to shield Mam’s body from the fierce rays of the sun when he’d found her bound to a rock with a silver chain—the chain that had been in my possession until Nowell had taken it from me. She’d saved the shirt in memory of what he’d done.
“This musty old shirt’s your gift, Beth!” Mab called, throwing it toward her sister with a mocking laugh.
Of course, it was better than Mary being hurt, but it pained me to see Mam’s things treated in that disrespectful way. Mam’s life was in this trunk, and I’d wanted to sift through her things at my leisure rather than watching Mab paw them. And Tibb believed there was something of great importance here. Something that Mab might discover at any moment.
Mab now turned her attention back to the trunk, her eyes ranging greedily over its contents. There were jars and sealed bottles, each one labeled. Were they medicinal potions? Could there be something in there that might help Jack? Then there were lots of books of different sizes, all of them bound in leather. Some looked like diaries, and I wondered if Mam had written them. One especially large volume drew my eye and made me want to pick it up. Could it be a record of her life with Dad on the farm? Or even an account of her life before they met?
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