Daughters of the Witching Hill (32 page)

Yet after the service, in front of everyone, Alice Nutter walked up and took my hand, as if to prove to the entire parish that I was neither demon nor leper. I could hear the consternation buzzing round us like a swarm of bees.

"Is your grandmother well?" she asked. "It's a pity the journey has become too much for her. Is there anything she has need of? Just tell me, dear. I'll ride by Malkin Tower tomorrow."

That lady's goodness was enough to make me want to kneel down and kiss her hand. But before I could reply to her, Constable Hargreaves pushed himself forward and said he needed to have a word with me. My stomach crawled and I feared I would be sick down his leather doublet. I looked past his shoulder to Mam whose lips were pressed thin and worried. Seeing my distress, Jamie stumbled forward, about to say something to the Constable, when Mam hauled my brother off, hissing at him to keep his gob shut. Our Jennet watched everything like some little unblinking toad, as if she believed in her heart that I was wicked and deserved whatever happened to me.

"Alizon Device," said the Constable. "I've three witnesses saying that you bewitched the pedlar, John Law."

My throat swelled tight. "I pray Master Law will soon mend. I never meant any harm, sir. If they let my gran bless him, he'll be right again, I swear."

Constable Hargreaves held up his hand to silence me. "Save your pretty stories for the Magistrate. He's been told."

Chilled to the core, I nodded.

"The people of Pendle have tolerated you lot for many years. That grandmother of yours has half the folk in terror of her. Even Master Baldwin doesn't dare call Demdike to account for shirking the Sabbath. But enough is enough."

So it had finally come down to this. Crying witch and pointing fingers, and not on account of Chattox but me. I'd brought this crashing down upon us.

"My gran's old and lame and blind, sir. Everybody knows that. She can't walk far, and we've no horse or wagon. But she fears God, to be sure, and says her prayers each day."

"Popish prayers and spells," he said. "A letter has been sent to the pedlar's son in Halifax. When it reaches him, he'll likely travel to Colne to see how his father fares."

"And how does Master Law fare, Constable, sir?" My hands folded to my heart.

His answer came curt. "He can speak again."

"Thank the Lord for that." I could scarce keep from crossing myself and calling out the name of the merciful Mother of God.

"The people of Colne have their opinions as to what your punishment should be. But," he said with a sigh, "the law of the land says we can't lift a finger against you unless John Law or Abraham Law, his son, bring their complaint to the Magistrate."

The breath I'd been holding inside my chest came bursting out. I thought I'd fall crashing to the ground like that Yorkshireman. So I wasn't damned, least not yet. I might still be able to atone for my wrong-doing and live a good and decent life.

After the Constable's warning, Mam thought it best to keep me out of folk's eye, so whilst she and Jennet went on their way to work at the Sellars', I stayed home with Gran and tried to be of use, sowing seeds in the garden and digging up weeds. Jamie was off only God knew where, and for once I envied him for being simple since I was never without the hammer of dread, wondering what was to come.

Our only visitor that week was Alice Nutter, her saddlebags bursting with bread and soft cakes and cheese for Gran. She told me she wanted to speak to my grandmother in private, so I showed her into Malkin Tower before going back to the garden and working myself into a cold sweat. I knew the two of them would be talking about me, about what was to be done about me. An age seemed to pass before Alice Nutter came out again and beckoned me. Dropping my hoe, I brushed the soil off my hands and went to her. Rigid with worry, I was. This time she'd no smile on her face.

"Despicable business, this talk of witchcraft," she said.

Head drooping, I nodded, thinking that the moment had come when she would condemn me along with the rest.

"Mark well my words, Alizon," she said, stepping close. "If one person makes an accusation of witchcraft, more could follow. People have whispered base nonsense about your grandmother for years, though, by Our Lady, nobody's dared act on it."

"Gran's a blesser," I said, as I would say to anyone. "She's done nowt but good for folk."

"I know, dear." Alice Nutter took my hand the way she had after church on Sunday. "But none of us in Pendle Forest can risk another accident like you had with that pedlar."

Her words left me dazed. She believed what had happened in Colne Field to be a mere accident? What had Gran been telling her? Gran would weave any tale if she thought it could save me.

"You must leave off the begging and wandering," Mistress Alice told me.

"I would do just that, ma'am, if I could find steady, honest work."

"I know you're a good girl who would do well at honest work given the chance. This Monday next, if you come to Roughlee Hall, I'll put you to work in my kitchen."

"Mistress Nutter." My eyes filled, not believing my luck or her generosity. Given what secrets she hid in her house, she could hire only servants she trusted with her life and the lives of her children. I thought I would indeed fall to my knees and kiss both her feet, but she carried on talking, practical as my mam would do, saying that if I came early on Monday, she'd see if she could find another kirtle and coif for me and an apron besides and some pattens for my feet, and that I wasn't to be late. I swore to her that I would rise at daybreak and make straight for Roughlee Hall.

Her face broke into a smile. "With God's grace, we may endure this, Alizon. Come hold my horse for me whilst I mount."

So I held steady to the reins and saddle as she mounted up. When her chestnut roan mare nuzzled my neck, I laughed for the first time in a fortnight. Every part of me glowing with gratitude, I waved my farewells to Mistress Alice till she and her horse had passed out of my sight.

Soon as she was gone, I flew into Malkin Tower and threw my arms round Gran.

"What did you tell Alice Nutter to get her to take me as a servant? You charmed her, you did." I rested my brow against hers.

"No, love. She acted from her own heart."

Gran trembled hard as I did, for we both knew how close we'd come to ruin, only Alice Nutter had saved us. I swore to Gran that I would serve my good mistress till her dying day.

Mam was best pleased when I told her the news.

"I've no cause to worry over you anymore," she said, pulling me close. "You'll be sat on a lush meadow serving Alice Nutter. One month at Roughlee Hall, and you'll be too fat to fit through the gate."

Over the moon, I was, to think of my good fortune—working every day in a warm, steamy kitchen and never knowing hunger again or the humiliation of begging or having some pedlar call me a whore when I'd wanted only to buy a few pins.

Jamie asked if he could come along and work for Alice Nutter as well, but I knew that could never be, for he couldn't be trusted to keep the close secrets of her house.

"I'll bring home plenty of cakes and pies for you," I promised. "You'll not clem."

"Maybe you won't be coming home at all," said Mam, fair carried away in her excitement. "Mistress Alice might want you to live up at Roughlee Hall."

My head began to spin at the thought of living in such a fine house, even if it meant sharing the servants' quarters in the attic.

"Once you've served her a good few years and earned her trust," said Mam, always thinking ahead, "you might persuade her to take on our Jennet. Then my work will be done, knowing both my girls have a livelihood and a kind mistress."

"And we'll both look after Jamie," I said, winking at my brother.

Jennet remained sour, as she would do. "Alizon's been bad and she gets rewarded. I've been good and I get nowt."

Gran gave Jennet a glare fearsome enough to turn her bones to ash. "Your sister was never bad. Now shut it."

***

"You told Mistress Alice it was an accident," I said to Gran late that night after everyone else had gone to bed. "
Was
it then?" My heart swelled in hope that this stain could be taken from me, that I'd done no evil at all.

"You're coming into your powers," Gran said. "You must learn to control them. Never speak out in anger like that again. Learn to hold your tongue. You'll go to Mistress Alice's hall where you'll be safe and looked after, but of a Sunday you'll come home to me and I'll teach you everything I know."

I held fast to her hand. "The black bitch. What if she's dead?" I could just imagine someone like Baldwin stoning her.

"A spirit is not a thing as can be killed, love." Gran spoke with a conviction that raised gooseflesh on my skin. "But we'll see to that later, after you're at Roughlee Hall and out of harm's way."

Sunday morning I kissed the rose-coloured ribbon Nancy had given me before tying up my fresh-combed hair. "Wish me luck," I whispered, hoping Nancy would hear me in heaven.

No matter what the other Holdens had done, I would always remember her with devotion as she had been my true friend. I vowed to keep her memory alive.

Smoothing my hair into place, I set my coif on my head and danced in a circle. I felt like my old self again, no longer like some hounded boggart. If my kirtle was ravelling apart, then my Mistress Alice would find another one for me come Monday morning. I only had to make it through this day and then my new life could begin.

Bright and eager, I set off for the New Church. Mam and I walked arm in arm, busy talking of my future and how much easier things would be for us. Jennet lagged behind, but we knew that if we ignored her, she'd catch up with us by and by. Jamie lurched about like a moonstruck calf, crashing into hedges and groaning about a mighty pain in his head.

"The skriking," he said, "like a great number of children crying out."

"Peace." I took his hand and tried to gentle him. "It's all right, love. We'll be all right."

In the churchyard Mistress Alice nodded to us whilst Mam and I curtseyed to her for everyone to see. I looked round for Constable Hargreaves and, not seeing him, decided that the bloated man had taken ill. But Baldwin was there, staring slit-eyed at Mam and me as though he were some great hooded crow. I just smiled to him whilst ruffling Jennet's hair, the same mouse brown as his own, then smirked to watch him flush wine-red. Jennet swatted my hand and Mam pinched my arm.

"Don't be too bold," she warned.

So I ducked my head as a modest girl should and filed into church. During the Curate's sermon, I stifled a yawn, for he was even dourer than usual, making every excuse to rant of hell and damnation, as if his preaching weren't endless torment enough. Working himself up was the Curate, till his voice reached a feverish pitch that made our eyes snap wide open.

"There are no accidents in God's design," he proclaimed. "Everything proceeds according to Divine Providence. Those that lead godly lives shall be rewarded in this world and in the next."

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Baldwin smile, smug as anything.

"Whilst those who turn their hearts and souls away from the true God shall be punished and brought low."

Here the Curate hooked his eyes upon Alice Nutter. Feeling faint, I fingered Nancy's ribbon for comfort. With a prickle, I remembered my friend's drained face the day after Chattox had cursed her. I remembered Nancy's fingers gripping mine as she told me of her nightmare.
I dreamt you were in danger, darkness and stench everywhere. I tried to help you but I couldn't reach you.

"Sometimes God punishes the many," said the Curate, "for the sins of the few. Plagues and famine, storms and flood, and the deaths of those still young are brought upon us by the deeds of wicked souls. And so shall misfortune and calamity continue until we smite the evildoers in our midst."

When the Curate looked straight at me, everyone else did too, their eyes like a thousand bodkins lancing my flesh. Our Jamie began to sway and yammer in the midst of the congregation, forcing Mam to lead him out the door. Then I was left with no family but Jennet, who gazed at me, cool and pitiless, with Baldwin's crow eyes.

Counting the minutes, I was, till I could finally stagger out of that church, and when at last I did, three men awaited me in the churchyard, blocking my way to the lych-gate where Mam and Jamie watched with huge eyes. Jennet glanced from me to them, then burst into tears. I gazed wildly toward Alice Nutter, who looked back at me, her handkerchief clutched to her mouth. But even she was powerless to rescue me now.

Before me loomed Roger Nowell, looking a sight sterner than when I'd seen him last; Constable Hargreaves with his bull's jowls; and between them a strange young man, short and portly, in scuffed black riding boots. With sickening sureness, I knew he must be none other than Abraham Law, the lamed chapman's son.

Gawping at the stranger, I saw his father again, the pain and fear etched on the side of his face that could still move. Like Jamie, I was half-maddened by the voices leaping about inside my head. Alice Nutter's voice, patient and wise, was telling me that what had happened that day in Colne Field was an accident, no more—that was what a just person would believe. But in his sermon, the Curate had decreed there were no accidents.