Her Kind

by Niamh Boyce

  Beatrice and Cristine, stepdaughters of the dame, were next before the bishop. Since they had the same appearance and spoke almost in one voice, Cristine being loquacious and her sister being timid, the bishop instructed that their testimony be recorded as that of one person. He instructed them to repeat for the court what one of them, Cristine, had told him in private.

  The twins spoke of how their father, Sir John of Callan, wasted as if poisoned. How they heard Dame Alice chanting his name, then muttering a curse and spitting into the fire. They had both seen poisonous powders prepared in her kitchen – her cook wore gloves to prepare them. An unknown fellow interrupted the proceedings, exclaiming that said sisters were harlots. The twins denied the accusation, proclaiming the dame must’ve cast a spell to make any man shout such falsehoods. The bishop noted aloud that the sisters did indeed wear copious jewels, immodest gowns and rouge their mouths.

  He thought a while on it before countering that, whatever the sisters were, harlots or no, they had eyes and saw poisonous powders in Kytler’s household. They were also witnesses to injuries done to Sir John by witchcraft. The sisters further testified that their father had become so ill he had lost his hair and nails. At this, they wept and declared, ‘Dame Alice has killed our father.’ Sir John interrupted to remind the court and his daughters that he was not as yet dead.

  The bishop expressed his concern that the twins had not reported this sorcery from the outset. In fact, had they not resided in Kytler’s and enjoyed the dame’s hospitality until recent times? The sisters claimed that they had been frightened and weakened by the evil they witnessed in the house. The women there, they claimed, were very cruel to them. In their own words, ‘Your lordship, you cannot put an ordinary maiden in with a nest of vipers, and not see her get bitten.’ The bishop understood this to mean they had been inducted into the sect, and stated so for the record. The twins vehemently denied such a fact, and there was much decrying of innocence and holding up of the heavy crosses that had lain on their plump chests. The bishop decided the sisters should be detained in Kilkennie Castle Gaol. The twins’ unholy screaming on hearing this confirmed the bishop’s suspicions. They were taken from the court, their father hobbling behind them on crutches.

  Ledrede detested screeching; it did terrible things to him. That anchoress had screamed non-stop when she first arrived. A thought came then, a childish one: that on meeting her maker, the anchoress told tales; told what he had done. Ledrede in his nightshirt, crouching outside the cell window, and on seeing the woman … No. Ledrede chastised himself. That he, with his fine mind, should entertain such a notion! A sinner like her would never see the face of God. She was somewhere else entirely. Getting her there had been far from easy. He had transferred the old nun who fed and watered her to the Leper House. Townspeople were kept away, told she was abstaining for a special petition. One young man had proved a pest, tapping at the stone cell, calling her name. He could tap all he wanted. Ledrede had blocked both apertures himself – first the one in the altar wall, then the one in the outer wall. It was a fitting end for a nun famed for her veneration of fasting. Being dead to this world and being dead – is there really such a difference? That’s what he had asked her. The scratch she’d made in the centre of his palm still festered.

  42. Basilia

  I had fallen asleep in my mistress’s chamber and dreamt the dream I’d been dreaming all summer. It began as always with soft rustlings, footsteps on the stairs, but then it grew louder, and pewter clattered; frantic whispers were replaced by sharp screams. I woke to find Friar Manchin, devout of mouth, sure of thumb, pressing my arms, my shoulders, my breast bone. ‘Have you a heart at all?’ he mocked, before dragging me from the bed and down the stairs.

  Alice was in the hall, being held by a slight but muscled bald man. I ran over to her. Helene and Esme were huddled together; the monk beside them waved a dagger every time they moved. Bede was there, too; he watched as his men smashed the trestle board and lifted the swords from the wall. Ulf was bent over, his hands clamped over a wound on his thigh. There were faces at the window, people gawping in.

  ‘We have a warrant for your arrests, sealed by Sir Arnold,’ said Bede.

  ‘You have no such thing. Arnold is dead.’

  ‘He saw sense before the end.’

  ‘Never, it is forged. The bishop did this.’

  ‘More heresy from the witch!’ said Bede.

  Two men began hauling Alice’s black chest down the stairs, banging it on each step.

  ‘That is my property, give that back! It is not yours to take!’

  ‘Its contents will condemn you,’ said Bede. ‘Come, we are taking you to the gaol.’

  ‘I’ll not move.’

  ‘Then you will be trussed, and carried like a hog.’ The bald man patted the thick rope around his hips.

  ‘No, no,’ Alice said. ‘I’ll come willingly. I will walk. We all will.’

  We were led down through High Street to the Castle Gaol. People followed on each side. The boy Milo appeared and ran towards Alice, tugging and tugging at her cloak. ‘I want what’s owed to me,’ he said. ‘I want what’s owed.’ One of the men pulled him away, laughingly saying that he had come far too late. The people jeered as we passed, pointing at Helene’s torn gown. Alice moved slowly with her head high, staring at something no one else could see. Did she always walk like that? Was Helene’s expression always so shameless? Did Esme always hobble so? It didn’t matter what we did, or what we were, when our every movement declared us strange.

  At the Castle Gaol, we were met by a white-haired constable. ‘Such distinguished guests,’ he said to Alice, who merely nodded.

  The door shut behind us and the crowd quietened. A voice rose, clear and haunting. Margaret Dun was keening. We were led down a narrow passage, and steep steps that I thought would never end. When they did, I was pushed into a cell and Alice was ordered to join me. It was small and dank, a square space with a tiny window. The gaoler shut the gate and locked it.

  ‘Your maid has just been arrested,’ he said to Alice. ‘Soon your whole household will be behind bars.’

  Poor Mother, all alone. At least the rest of us were together. Outside, the keening carried on, a torn voice that rose and fell, as if Margaret were stumbling from high ground to low in blind despair. Such grief for us, it was terrifying. Just then, Cristine and Beatrice strode past our cell, walking so near each other that their cloaks mingled as one. A gaoler marched close behind them. So the sisters, too, had been arrested, after all the accusations they themselves had thrown.

  My mistress put her arm through mine, but did not speak. I patted my pouch; it held only a smooth stone and my poppet, nothing to aid our escape. Snow began to fall outside; it filled the window with a blue-white light. The song kept on. I closed my eyes and imagined my mother as if she were here, reaching through the bars. ‘Líadan,’ she said, grasping my hand. All those times she spoke my name and I refused to answer. Again came the sorrowful verse, and with it the piercing cold, and Alice turned to invite me under her cloak.

  43. Petronelle

  They threw me to the ground. The air tasted of clay, like that from a pit, a grave. I heard a gate shut, then further away another, then, fainter still, another. I looked up. Helene was crouching in the corner of the cell. Though tear-stained, the maid’s face was unmarked.

  ‘Where were you, when they came for us?’ she asked.

  ‘What have they done with my daughter?’

  The wretch didn’t answer, just turned away and folded herself tighter. I checked my girdle: my purse was gone, but my knife remained. I knelt alongside the maid and pressed the blade against her flushed cheek. The dull steel brightened. The vain thing whimpered.

  ‘Where is my daughter?’

  ‘With Alice, in another cell.’

  I went to the gate and called out. A gaoler came, a wiry bald man. When I asked to be put with Líadan, he thrust a stick through the bars and sent me flying into the corner. �
�It’s not an inn,’ he snarled.

  Retching with pain, I stayed there. Helene held her silence, but watched my every move. As time passed, the light from the high window became weaker and weaker. A shadow fell. I looked upwards and glimpsed leather boots: a watchman was on patrol. We must have been put in the lowest cells, the dungeon. I heard hoofs clop across the cobbles. Voices came from outside – a question, a quick laugh. I couldn’t hear what the rider said to the watchman, but it was the bishop who had spoken, I was sure of that. I looked to Helene, but she just glared, eyes narrow with accusation. Where were you, when they came for us?

  ‘It’s All Hallows’ Eve, you know,’ she said, as our cell darkened. ‘The night the dead return to earth.’

  ‘If that were true, there wouldn’t be room to move.’

  I was glad when she rested her head on her arms and closed her eyes. After some time, her breathing slowed and she slumped sideways. How could she sleep in a place like this? I couldn’t, not while my daughter was out there, in some other cell. A terrible grief rose in my chest. We were trapped in the stone burrows of the Castle Gaol, accused of dark arts, together yet apart.

  As the night passed, I began to shiver. It became colder and colder. I looked over at Helene, but could not bring myself to huddle close for warmth. Sometime before dawn, I heard a strange sound – something swinging back and forth. A dull clink-clank, clink-clank, clink … and then it ceased, like the tongue of a bell stopped by a hand. The silence hung like an unanswered question.

  Samhain

  * * *

  NOVEMBER

  A certain pyx was found containing ointment with which a beam of wood called a cowltre was anointed. When it had been so anointed Alice and her followers were able to be carried wherever in the world they wished to go without let or hindrance.

  Annales Hiberniae

  44. Basilia

  My head rested on someone’s chest, someone who was limping. His tunic reeked of onions and smoke, his neck was stubbled. He groaned with each step. A figure with a torch led us – he looked like Sir Stephen, had his height, his swagger. We travelled swiftly through a dark passageway. I glimpsed shadows behind us, a small group shuffling forward. I made out Alice’s shape amongst them. There were many small figures – children? Was that my mother, coming after? I wriggled to be set free. The man looked down: his heavy-lidded eyes were kind, but he shook his head and tightened his grip. I recognized him then: Ulf. My ear rested against his heart – it beat fast; the hollow beneath his Adam’s apple was beaded with sweat. At the back of my skull, a sharp pain came and went. I tried to recall what had happened, but I couldn’t.

  After, we passed through an arched gate. Our route became straight and the way sloped steeply upwards. I began to suspect that we were under High Street; that up there, above our heads, traders, barrow boys and wives were treading the streets, setting up their wares. We turned off into a passageway that narrowed towards a studded black door. Stephen, for that’s who it was, unlocked it. We entered and saw steps, no more than a ladder. They led to a wooden trapdoor above. At last, Ulf dropped me to my feet. My legs were numb.

  Alice entered aided by Stephen. I pushed past her into the passage. There was no one there. Ulf pulled me inside and shut the door. There was only Alice, Ulf and I, and Stephen, who was already at the top of the steps, pushing frantically at the trapdoor. When it eased open, my mistress sighed with relief. Was it possible the door might’ve been sealed against her?

  Where were the others I had seen? Where was my mother? I turned to Alice.

  ‘Your mother is safe; she will join us soon.’

  ‘Hurry,’ Stephen urged, looking down. ‘They’ll have discovered you gone by now. The bishop wants you executed.’

  ‘The people would never let that happen.’

  ‘They let this happen, didn’t they?’

  Alice began to climb the ladder. She made slow progress. Ulf climbed up, and I began to follow. I finally reached the top step, and the giant caught my wrists and hauled me upwards.

  I recognized the barrels, bladders of wine, the wall of furs, the trestle table covered in ornaments, jugs and candlesticks. I was standing in Alice’s Pledge Room. We were in Kytler’s once again, but we were not alone: the constable of Kilkennie Castle Gaol was warming his hands over a brazier that had been set up. I was frightened till I realized that no one else was. Another man, wearing Le Poer livery, stood by the wall. It was colder here than below, despite the brazier.

  I ventured towards the door, but Stephen pulled me back. ‘Stay away from the cellar door. Quiet as a mouse, you understand?’

  I nodded. That I could do.

  ‘Is my husband up there?’ asked Alice.

  ‘I’ve spent the night rescuing you,’ said Stephen. ‘I wouldn’t know.’

  Alice put a heavy cloak with a furred cowl over my shoulders and gave me a tumbler of spiced wine. Then she loosened the strings on her purse and joined the constable. She counted coins into his hand. She hesitated then. A strange surge of spite rose within me, against the flounced cuffs at Alice’s thin wrists, the tight grip she had on her money, the rings that bulged beneath her grey gloves.

  Realizing I was squeezing my purse, I released my grip. It would not do to damage the poppet. I should’ve made one for my mother. Her name was on that summons. Why had I not made something to protect her, too? Soon she’d come through the trapdoor. I would hug her then, I would speak, say anything she wanted me to. I would find Jack for her. The constable listened at the cellar door before pulling back the bolt and climbing up the steps. The candle flames wavered as he left.

  45. Petronelle

  By daybreak, the window was a square of trembling white. Snow. Helene unfolded, stood up on her toes, stretched her arms and rubbed her eyes. There was some commotion down the corridor. She pushed her head between the bars of the gate, trying to peer out. Her cap fell off. With her black mane part plaited and part wild, she took on the appearance of someone wanton, someone easily guilty of the accusations thrown at us. I was about to reprimand her, when the gaoler rushed past, red-faced.

  ‘Kytler and the girl are gone!’

  We heard horses in the courtyard outside, hounds barked and horns were blown. The hue and cry had been raised. The witches have flown, make haste. I knelt on the floor and opened my arms in prayer for my daughter. The bishop’s men would be merciless. ‘Blessed Virgin, help her, help her run far, then further.’

  ‘Sorcery!’ Helene cried. ‘They used sorcery to aid their escape!’

  ‘The only magick at work was Kytler’s silver.’

  ‘Tell me’ – she stepped in front of me – ‘why didn’t you go, too? Why didn’t you fly?’ She flapped her arms. ‘Or do you love it here? Do you love being wretched? Does it bring you glory?’

  ‘I can no more leave than you can.’

  ‘Aha! But you can. Alice could, your daughter could. You, you chose to stay. You’re pleased by humiliation, you always were, praying, sanctimonious Petronelle, with your plain gowns and your plain face, and your hands … look at them, still stained! You want people to see you’ve been dying cloth, knowing they’ll say – oh, shame, the dame makes a lackey of her lady’s maid!’

  To be so misunderstood, and by a girl I once pitied. If there was any witch it was her, her eyes shining, her mouth swollen. I knew what she would do, how she would save herself if she had to. Helene sat cross-legged then, spinning the rat-tails of her hair, casting frequent glances in my direction.

  I was thirsty but didn’t dare call for the gaoler again. He came soon enough anyway, pointing his stick at me.

  ‘You’re to be moved after all.’

  He chose a large key from his ring and sprang the heavy lock; the gate drew an arc through the earth as it opened. Helene began to croon, her voice low and hoarse – Winter’s day, and rough is the weather. I stepped into the corridor and watched as the gaoler relocked the cell. There were boils on his neck. He turned and, prodding me with his stick, d
rove me down a long passageway. We stopped at a gated chink in the wall, and he pushed me. The cell was so narrow I could stretch out and touch the wall on each side. The gaoler hooked the key-ring on to his girdle, and winked. I watched him saunter off. He had some brawn, but was narrow. Why had I let myself be driven like a biddable animal? I could’ve grabbed his keys, knocked him to the ground, but where to then? I remembered the rough hands that had lifted me into the air. How my hair was pulled from every direction and nails dug into my wrists, my neck. There was nowhere to go. They would tear me apart like a hawk does its prey.

  46. Hightown

  The crowd outside the gaol was getting larger, swelling with nobles and annalists from all the kingdoms of Ireland. All waiting for a glimpse of the notorious witch, Dame Alice Kytler. Then they heard – Kytler had vanished. How could that be true? Why, they had seen her pass along this very road and enter the prison. The crowd, who had taunted her servants, merely stared at the dame. Her velvet hood was edged with fitchet; the creamy yellow fur was packed about her face as if it were porcelain. It was hard to believe such a woman had led a sect, made sacrifices to demons, bewitched husbands, poisoned them even. She took her maid’s daughter with her. How on earth had they escaped? Did her demon lover rescue them both?

  They remembered the girl, a mute. She had stumbled behind the dame in a daze, looking over her shoulder, as if expecting someone to follow. Her mother, most like. Petronelle.

  Petronelle had avoided capture at first, but they soon found the wretch at the back of the seneschal’s house. The townsmen tied her wrists. The women tore off her veil, pulled her hair loose and sliced her purse. She had kicked and kicked as they carried her to the gaol. Later, the children searched the ground for ribbons or coins – but all they found were pins, so many pins.