Blood and Clay (5 page)

Roger
had welcomed King James
’
Witchcraft Statute in 1604. Crimes by witches which caused
even the slightest damage to a bewitched victim were now a hanging offence.
Anything less earned them a spell in the pillory in the nearest market town, a
wooden box with holes for the witch
’
s head and arms, in which they could
be duly humiliated for their crimes and revealed to all as a witch. Roger had
never approved of the lax way in which Queen Elizabeth had dealt with witches,
with the maximum penalty being a year in prison. Roger felt personally
responsible for clearing the county of Lancashire of witches and Catholics and
knew exactly where to start. He had thought about it for several years now but
the latest re-issue of The Daemonologie and the reports of the latest duckings
and hangings around the country, and of course the favours extended by King
James to the magistrates who had put the wretched souls to death, had renewed Roger
’
s motivation to begin a crusade of
his own.

Roger
knew just who he was going to target for his investigations. There were many
that didn
’
t go to church; many who needed closer inspection but there
were those more obvious who called for Roger
’
s attentions. The two families that
plagued this area with their superstitious ramblings were the families of the
old crones Demdike and Chattox. The two families had been feuding for years
over which of the old women was the most powerful or most influential. Each
took money or food from the local villagers for herbal remedies, charms and
curses. Each family was as pitiful and as dishonest as the other.

Just
that morning Roger had come across one of Demdike
’
s family; one of the runts, Alizon.
He had shown her some Christian kindness, as was his way, and interestingly she
had lied about who she was. Perhaps there was one member of the families who
had some pride. Perhaps this Alizon was not a devil worshipper. Yes Alizon
interested him. Perhaps there was one soul among the damned families that could
still be saved. If she was willing to be saved.

“
Out of your bed Lizard. Time to get to work.
”

I
flinched as I felt a booted foot kick my leg, connecting painfully with my
shin. I opened my eyes a crack to peer at James as he stood over my bed, arms
folded.

I
stretched and shivered as the cold air of the room hit me. There are fair
amounts of holes in the thatch over the room I shared with our Nettie and no
glass in the window. I put my feet on the floor, already soggy from the leak in
the roof, and pulled a hessian shawl around my shoulders. Finally sick of
freezing half to death I'd decided to use some sacking to make a shawl to cover
my shoulders. Not pretty, I'll grant you, but warmer than nothing.

“
What
’
s the rush? I've not even heard the cock crow yet
”

I
rubbed at my eyes, struggling to wake up fully, until I saw little flashes of
white floating in my vision mixing in with the dust motes shimmering in the
shaft of light coming through the window.

“
Just cos you made a bunch o
’
money doing favours for one o
’
the rich folk don
’
t mean you get the day off Lizard. It
’
s a good month since you whored
yourself out to that gent and money
’
s running short. The old woman needs
to visit John Nutter Got a sick bull. You get to walk her there. Hurry up your
scrawny behind or y
’
ll be sure to get a beating
”

I
did as I was told. Not because James had a bad temper, although he sure did,
but because I knew that Gran would make my day a misery if I didn
’
t. James weren
’
t one to talk at me about money but I
wouldn
’
t dare argue with him. Our James was eighteen and a
spiteful lad. If he weren
’
t fighting or thieving he was drinking till he passed out.
He weren
’
t all there, our James, a bit twisted he were, and folk
called him moon kissed but he weren
’
t as dumb as he made out. He could be
more vicious than Mam and Gran put together. I tied my shawl and put my shoes
on, bought from the milk maid the week before, then I went to join Gran before
her temper flared.

“
Let's go child. No more dilly dallying from you today. Hold
my arm.
”
Snapped Gran when I got outside
“
There
’
s money to be earned.
”

I
knew better than to answer back and moved to her side to take her arm. As we
walked Gran muttered to herself in her usual manner. Spells, charms, curses,
they all sounded the same hissing through her flaked, chapped lips. The hiss
continued for the hour that it took to reach the Nutter farm. As we approached
I caught the sweet sulphur smell of manure that caused a haze in the autumn air
around every cattle and dairy farm in the area. Although I hated spending time
with Gran I relished any chance I got to see people other than my kin. Good
people, kind and honest folk, and what
’
s more Gabe might be there. Though I
kept our friendship secret from Gran we did sometimes manage to grab a moment
to chat when I visited the Nutter farm and I hadn
’
t talked to him since our tiff at
Beggar
’
s Bend. My stomach flipped with excitement that I might see
him.

As
we got even closer to the farm I stared and couldn't help but envy the
farmhouse, even the barns, all of which were in better condition than Malkin
Tower. We walked through the farm gates and I smiled as delight and sorrow
washed over me. I watched the five children who lived at the farm playing. They
were throwing small stones at an old milk churn in the hope of getting one in
and their laughter tinkled and rang out in the air. Their smiles displayed the
pure unadulterated joy the game gave them. Me and Gran made our way towards the
milking barn and I heard a shout, a woman's voice.

"Come
on children. There's bread hot from the oven to be eaten. Jane pick up your
little brother and help him in."

I
watched the children run to the farmhouse where their mam stood in the doorway.
They jostled and pushed as they carried on laughing and tried to dodge their
mam's kisses as they squeezed in the small space between her and the door
frame. The eldest girl looked about my age and walked at the back carrying the
baby. She must be Jane. Jane smiled at her mam and leaned in for a hug as she
reached the door and handed the baby over. Jane and her mam looked the best of
friend as they went into the house chattering away about everything and
nothing. I scanned the rest of the yard for signs of Gabe but couldn
’
t see him anywhere.

"Lizard.
Snap out of it you stupid girl. I stubbed my toe on a rock then. Do you want me
to be lame you little idiot?" Spat Gran as she wrenched the arm that I
held to pull me back to the present.

"Sorry
Gran" I said quickly and abandoned my daydreams of being one of the
farmer's children. I led Gran out of the morning sun and air and into the cold,
dark barn where the farmer was waiting for us.

"Mother
Demdike. How are you today madam?" Came a voice from the other side of the
barn. The voice, belonging to John Nutter, was slow and deep and calm.

"I
am fine John Nutter. How is that cow of yours? What do you call me here
for?"

"She's
sickening for something. That calving took it out of her. She won't eat, just
wants to sleep. She won't be good for nothing if you can't help"

"Fear
not John Nutter. I brought my herbs. You go and be with your family and leave
this to me."

As
she spoke to the farmer Gran sounded almost nice. Though her voice remained low
and hissing the tones behind it sounded polite and reassuring. As the farmer
left the barn and went to join his family Gran returned to her usual malicious
voice.

"Get
me that milking stool and clear a space on the floor Lizard. Then get your
scrawny bones out into the yard. You
’
re too clumsy and stupid to learn the
ways of the Devil yet. You don't deserve his favour. This is woman's work. Now
hurry, and then get out!"

I
did as I was told. I fetched the stool and helped Gran to sit down, though I
’
m sure that the old battle axe needed
no help. Then I left the barn with a sigh of relief as Gran spread her various
herbs, dried fruit, small animal bones and stones on the barn floor. I wasn
’
t offended by Gran and Mam thinking
that I didn
’
t deserve to have the favour of the Devil. In fact I was
relieved. I didn
’
t know what I
’
d do when the day finally came when
they wanted to initiate me into their wretched sisterhood.

Before
Pa died he taught me about the Protestant faith and about God. Whenever I
’
d been too wide awake to be soothed
just by lullabies Pa would sit on my bed and read me stories from a small
tattered Bible that he had. I never found out if he could really read or if he
just remembered the stories but I would listen and I loved the stories in the
book. The day Pa disappeared, two days before Mam bothered to tell me he
’
d died, and I found the Bible under
my bed. I still don
’
t know if it had fell there accidentally or if Pa knew his
death was coming and left the book to help me with a future without him.
Whatever the reason, the Bible and my belief in God, was all I had left of Pa
and I secretly wrapped my beliefs around me like a security blanket which made
me feel warm and loved. I was even too embarrassed to admit the depth of my
feelings to Gabe. He believed in God but went to church under sufferance. He
took it for granted that he could go to church or talk about God whenever he
wanted.

It
was with relief that I left the dark barn. Once outside I found a wall to sit
on. The wall was near the barn and, although I would have loved to explore, I
knew I should stay where I was. Gran would call me when she
’
d finished casting her charms and she
had a wicked temper if I dilly dallied when she was called. It wasn
’
t just her tongue that would give me
a lashing either.

I
sat on the wall and swung my feet as I leaned my head backwards, eyes closed,
to take in the morning sun. It was turning into a slightly sunnier day now,
though still with a bitter crisp, and with my newly made shawl I didn
’
t feel as cold as usual. I basked in
my senses; in the reassuring smells of the dairy farm, the feeling of the rough
stones under my legs and hands, the sounds of the cows and the chickens and the
odd bark from the farm dog. The sound which was most bittersweet to me was the
sound of the children
’
s laughter which drifted out of the kitchen. The farmer had
joined them and I could hear his low, rumbling voice, calm and warming, a bit
like Pa
’
s had been. Though it made my heart ache to wish I was
sitting in that kitchen it also made me happy to hear people laughing and
talking. If this was the nearest that I could get to happiness then at least it
was something. Some happiness that I could secretly share in if only for a few
minutes.

I
felt a hand on my arm and my eyes shot open and heart sped. For Gran to catch
me resting like this would earn me a whole heap of strife. I blinked away the
flittering lights that had settled through my eyelids from the sun and realised
that it was Gabe.

“
Hi Lizzie. Having a hard time napping while I slog my guts
out spreading muck eh?
”
Gabe chuckled as I felt myself blush.

It
was so wonderful to see him after the last few weeks of nowt but my kin that I
almost hugged him. He stared at me with a half smile on his lips and I felt my
skin pleasantly warm where his hand sat on my upper arm. Then he seemed to
shake himself and look back towards the yard where the chickens were scrabbling
over bits of wheat which Mrs Nutter had tossed from the kitchen window.

“
How
’
ve you been? Did you have a good Christmas?
”
I rubbed my arm, the place he had
taken his hand from seconds before now bristled and goose pimpled with the
absence of his warmth.