Alice (16 page)

Some of the nearer children heard that and started crying. I was appalled. The children were scared enough as it was. Why make it worse by telling them they were going to die in such a horrible way?

What kind of a monster
was
Betsy Gammon? In some ways she was far worse than the witches she kept. Without her, the killing would be random and less frequent. She organized the water witches and made the slaying of innocents happen on
a bigger scale. Of course, this time Lizzie had started it, seeking the power of that egg.

‘Look – that’s not going to happen,’ I said, hoping one of the cackling hags from upstairs didn’t suddenly decide to pay the children a visit. ‘She’s just trying to scare you.’

‘Then why did you steal me from my mam and bring me here? And why are those creatures in the cages staring at us all the time. Are they hungry? Do they want our blood?’ Emily cried.

I was just as guilty as Lizzie. ‘Don’t worry, they ain’t going to get your blood,’ I said.

‘But the fat lady said they would.’

‘It ain’t true. I won’t let that happen.’

‘You’re only a girl. What can you do? The witches are fierce, with big teeth and claws, and there’s lots and lots of ’em!’

I thought for a moment before answering. Up until now I’d just tried to be cheerful and optimistic; to give the child some hope. Then words just flowed from my mouth as if my answer had come from somebody else.

‘I’m Alice, and I won’t let them hurt you: I can stop them. I
can
and I
will
!’

I must have said it with real conviction because the girl’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in astonishment. For the first time she seemed calm.

My business in the cellar finished, I walked back up the steps to ground level. I heard Lizzie and Betsy still chatting and laughing together upstairs. I couldn’t bear the sight of either
of them, so I walked out into the yard and stared at the pond for a while, thinking things through.

How foolish I’d been to claim that I could prevent the child from being hurt. What could I actually do? I wondered.

Nothing! Nothing at all!

No . . . that wasn’t quite true. Within hours those children would all be dead, but I could do something for myself. I could run away from this terrible place so that when they died I would no longer be here. I wouldn’t be a murderer, then.

Not only that – I could escape from Lizzie. That way I wouldn’t have to become a witch.

But how badly would she want me back? Last time she’d known I was staying with Agnes Sowerbutts. And Agnes hadn’t been strong enough to protect me from such a strong malevolent witch. But this time I could flee far from Pendle, and Lizzie wouldn’t know where. Even if she managed to scry my whereabouts, she’d be too busy wielding the power from that leather egg to bother her head about me.

So why waste time? Better to go now, this very minute.

WITHOUT A BACKWARD
glance, I left the yard and walked east, back in the direction of the canal. I intended to follow it south, but I wouldn’t be heading towards Pendle. I’d keep going until I was far beyond the County. They said the weather was warmer down south and that it didn’t rain as much. It would be good to get a bit more sun on my face. I hated this damp blustery County climate.

The light was beginning to fail, so the sun must be very close to the horizon. Not that there was much chance of seeing it. Low grey clouds were rushing in from the west. Soon it would rain.

I felt no lifting of my spirits, no happiness at the thought that
I was leaving my old life for ever. In my chest, where my heart should have been, was a lump of cold lead that made it difficult to breathe. I kept seeing the hungry skelts and those frightened children in their cages. Seven of them would be sacrificed in order to release the power of the egg; the remainder would be given to those bloodthirsty creatures.

The further I walked, the worse I felt. Even if I were many miles away when they killed those children, I’d still be guilty, wouldn’t I?

I’d kept watch while Lizzie snatched the child and hurt – maybe even killed – the mother. There was more than one type of guilt: you might do something horrible that you later regretted. But you could also feel guilty for something that you’d
not
done! If I didn’t help the children in some way, that guilt would stay with me for the rest of my life.

Something struck me like lightning. I could go and tell Arkwright, the spook, and lead him to the children. I could take him through the magical cloak, straight to the house.

But that would be very risky. He might assume that I was a witch, and either put me in a pit or kill me on sight! Still, it was a chance. I might be able to persuade him of the danger that faced the children; and I was the only one who could lead him through the magic cloak to save them . . .

Once there, I could slip away while he sorted out the witches and that pig, Salty Betsy. No doubt Lizzie would get away; she was crafty and had more lives than a cat.

Yes, that’s what I would do, I thought. So I pressed on
faster towards the canal. Once I reached it, the mill lay only a little way further north.

I couldn’t have been more than five minutes from the canal when it began to rain really hard – the kind of downpour that could soak you to the skin in minutes. Next, forked lightning suddenly split the sky, to be followed moments later by a loud thunderclap almost directly overhead. It reminded me of that bad storm the night Lizzie had snatched me from Agnes’s house.

I’ve always been afraid of being struck by lightning. It scares me almost as much as spiders and flies. The Malkin coven was once caught in a bad storm on Pendle Hill. One of ’em was struck dead on the spot. And when they carried her corpse back to the village, it was all blackened and burned. It happened before I was born, but they say the stink of her charred body hung in the air for weeks afterwards.

Where could I shelter? There were a few isolated trees, but it was dangerous to take refuge beneath them, and the nearby hedgerow wouldn’t keep me dry for long, or safe from the lightning.

It was almost dark, and in the distance I now saw a faint light – it seemed to come from south of the canal. That probably meant a farm. Perhaps I could shelter in one of the out-buildings. No doubt there’d be dogs – they’d get my scent and bark fit to wake the dead – but the farmer wasn’t likely to venture out in such filthy weather after dark.

So I began to walk faster, cutting across two big fields and climbing over a gate, all the while making directly for that light.

Because of the cloud cover, there was neither moon nor stars to light my way, and the rain was driving horizontally into my face now, making it hard to see much. So it wasn’t until I got much closer to the light that I realized my mistake.

Its source wasn’t a farmhouse window, or a lantern hanging from a barn door.

It was a barge moored on the canal.

I halted on the towpath and stared at it. It was big, black and shiny, a far cry from the working craft that usually plied the canal, carrying food, coal and other materials between Caster and Kendal. It had a flat deck and one closed hatch.

Then I looked at the source of the light that had drawn me across the fields like a foolish moth to the flame that would consume it. On the prow stood thirteen large black candles: they burned steadily without even the slightest flicker, despite the gusts of wind that snatched the breath from my open mouth. It was still raining hard, churning up the surface of the canal, but not one drop reached the deck of that mysterious barge.

The candles bothered me. Black ones were used by witches – they made me think of the dark. But the barge was very grand and beautiful, which made me put aside most of my fears.

I was rooted to the spot, unable to tear my gaze from the candles and run away. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a movement. I finally turned and saw that the hatch was slowly sliding open.

I gasped in astonishment at what was revealed. There were steps leading downwards – too many steps. Canals were not deep, so barges were flat-bottomed. These steps went down
too far. It was impossible, yet I could see them there in front of me.

Anyone with a shred of common sense would have turned and fled. But I wasn’t thinking straight. I felt compelled to step onto the deck of that black barge and go down into that deep hold. And that’s what I did, as if walking in a dream.

A dream? Looking back, it was a nightmare!

Apart from dozens of candles positioned in clusters, there was just one object in that big hold: a large throne of dark, shiny wood. It was covered in carvings of evil-looking creatures – dragons, snakes, and all sorts of monstrosities. But the throne was unoccupied; there was no one else in the hold – at least, nobody I could see. The hairs on the back of my neck began to stand up, and I felt as if someone was watching me. Nevertheless, I walked forward and stood facing the empty throne.

Who would sit on a throne like that, anyway?

I hadn’t spoken those words aloud, but immediately I got an answer to my question.

‘
A good friend of yours would sit on that throne if he could, Alice. I am that friend. One day, with your help, that may be possible
.’

I was confused. I didn’t have any good friends. The words had come from some distance behind the throne. It was a young voice; that of a boy.

‘How do you know my name?’ I asked.

‘
I know your name as well as your predicament, Alice. I know that you serve Elizabeth of the Bones unwillingly, and you fear what she might soon do to a number of poor innocent children
.’

I had never heard her referred to by that name, but I knew he meant Bony Lizzie.

‘Who are you? And how do you know so much about me?’ I asked nervously. I noticed that whereas the candle flames on the deck had burned steadily despite the storm, here in the perfect calm of the hold they flickered wildly, as if in response to some ghostly wind.

‘
I am an unseen prince of this world and it is my duty to know all about my subjects. I can help you, Alice. All you need to do is ask
.’

‘Where are you now? Could I see you?’

‘
I am far away, but you may see my image for a moment. Look just directly above the throne. But don’t blink – it cannot stay here long!
’

As bidden, I looked at a point just above that shiny ebony throne. For a moment nothing happened, but then there was a shimmer, and a face, without a body, appeared before me.

It was the face of a boy of about thirteen or fourteen – barely older than me. He wore a broad smile, and his hair was a mass of golden curls which gleamed in the candlelight. He was good to look at: it was clear that he would grow up to become a very handsome young man. Not only that: kindness and friendship beamed out at me. I felt as if he really cared what happened to me; as if he would do anything he could to help me. No one had ever cared much for me – apart from Agnes maybe. My mam and dad had been cruel to me and I hadn’t seen much of Agnes anyway. So it warmed my heart to see someone looking at me like that. I felt that my life might begin properly if he was my friend.

‘Would you help me, please?’ I found myself saying. All fear and nervousness had left me. I felt happy, and sure that somehow things would turn out for the best. ‘I want to help
those children. I was on my way to see Arkwright, the spook, and take him to the house where the children are held captive.’

‘
You needn’t waste your time going to get the aid of a spook
,’ he replied as his image faded and vanished. ‘
Look inside yourself. You have the strength and power to do whatever you wish! You need no one but yourself!
’

I thought back to the Testing in Pendle; the time when a young potential witch is tested to see what her strengths are and what type of magic she should use. Mine had been a terrifying experience that had gone badly. But I had learned from it that I might one day become very powerful. Now I was hearing it again. Could I start to believe it?

‘What can I do against all those fierce witches?’ I asked. ‘Lizzie alone would sort me out proper in seconds. She’s forgotten more spells than I’ve managed to learn so far. And what about the sharp teeth and claws of the others? What have I got to match that?’

‘
Match it? You can surpass it with ease. As I said, the power is within you. Look for it now! Search within yourself!
’ continued the disembodied voice.

‘How can I do that?’ I asked.

‘
Begin by closing your eyes
. . .’ the voice said softly.

I obeyed, eager to learn. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be powerful and not spend my life being scared? I thought.

I could see the light flickering through the blood within my eyelids.

‘
Relax and drift downwards!
’ commanded the voice. ‘
Go down into the darkness, deep within yourself
.’

For a moment I fought that instruction. The thought of going down into darkness was scary. But I was already moving; it was too late. I sank slowly at first, then faster and faster. I left my stomach behind and fell, like a stone kicked into an abyss, anticipating some fearful impact when I reached the bottom. I was terrified. I was lost and about to be destroyed. Why had I listened to this boy?