Mist Over Pendle (31 page)

But the morrow brought cares enough of its own. It was a Monday; which meant that Nick Banister was joined with Roger in the giving of justice, and Margery, as their now indispensable Clerk, had to sit the length of the session with them. And the session was neither short nor easy, for Richard Baldwin soon showed himself to be in truculent mood. He began with five presentations for absence from the Newchurch, and then he presented Elizabeth Demdike and her granddaughter, Alizon Device, for begging and trespass on his land the preceding Saturday; and Elizabeth Device, daughter to the said Demdike, promptly rolled her diverging eyes over the Justices and their Clerk as she asked leave to bring charges of assault and profane swearing against Richard Baldwin of the mill, churchwarden.

Roger was not pleased. He was not pleased with any-of them, and his expression showed it. Margery took one look at his face and then bent thoughtfully over her paper as she set down the details of the charges; then she chose a new goose-quill from the jar in front of her and began to trim it with her small knife; a new pen, she thought, was likely to be needed before all this had been ended. And Nick Banister cleared his throat and drew his chair forward to Roger’s side.

Roger spoke with crisp precision. Elizabeth Demdike, he said, had a licence to beg, and since she was all but blind it was reasonable that her granddaughter, Alizon Device, should lead her; the presentation for begging must therefore fail. Licence to beg necessarily implied licence to enter upon land in order to beg, and the presentation for trespass must therefore depend on whether the women had or had not departed peacefully from the land when lawfully ordered so to do.

Nick Banister nodded approval. Both Justices turned patiently to Richard Baldwin, and Margery, catching sight of his face, put down her penknife and let the goose-quill wait; she had seen that look on a puritan face before.

He came slowly to his feet, grasping the table with a grip that blanched his knuckles, and he spoke in a ringing voice that was tremulous with anger. He had, he said, been merciful before the Lord, and had presented for slight matters only--for begging and trespass; but since his mercy was rejected, the one charge dismissed and the other held in doubt, he would now ask leave to withdraw both; instead, he would present for conjuring evil spirits with intent to harm him in his soul and body.

He ended on a note of fine fervour, and at once he plunged into an exultant recitation of the thirty-fifth Psalm. He had got as far as the seventh verse before Roger’s icy voice cut in and stopped him.

‘Enough!” he snapped. “This is not a Meeting House. Set that down.”

And Margery was so far gone in consternation that he had to slap the table angrily before she realized that his last command was for her. She was in haste then to obey, and her pen scratched noisily as she set the new charge down. She was in no doubt about its gravity. Begging and trespass, as Baldwin had truly said, were trivial matters, punishable at worst by a whipping from the Constable and a few hours in the stocks; but this new charge was capital. King James had never forgotten the North Berwick witches of twenty years ago; they had confessed to raising the storm that had all but drowned him as he brought his Queen from Denmark; and a dozen years later, when he came to reign in England, he had quickly been urgent with his Parliament to enact that the conjuring of spirits, for any intent whatever, should be punished with death. Margery knew all about this Statute; she had learned enough of law for that in her weeks as Clerk, and Roger’s frigid displeasure gave her no surprise; this was a charge that no Justice could take lightly.

Then Richard Baldwin was on his feet again to give his sworn evidence, and this, as Margery knew it must be, was slender. It came to no more than a recital of last Saturday’s quarrel with heavy stress laid on Demdike’s threat to pray for him and his. That, he declared, could mean nothing less than the conjuring of spirits to do him harm.

“That’s to be considered,” said Roger calmly. “But you’ve not only charged the woman. You’ve charged the granddaughter too. What threat did the girl make?”

She had of course made none, and Baldwin had to admit it. Roger promptly dismissed the charge against Alizon, and Margery, glancing at Baldwin as she duly recorded this, saw his face stiff and white with fury. Nervously, she wondered what was coming next.

“Now the Demdike,” said Roger. “What has she to say?”

The stick tapped aggressively as the old woman made her slow way to the table. And what she had to say was simple; she coolly swore that she had never said anything of the sort; and then, at her request, Alizon was heard, and fervently swore the same.

Again Margery glanced nervously at Richard Baldwin. But he had mastered himself now, and his hard face had no more expression than Roger’s. He received Roger’s inquiring look with a calm nod.

“I’ve sworn to it,” he said, “and there’s two, of a certain sort sworn against me. Now let my daughter be heard. The Lord forewarned me of the need, and I’ve been at pains to bring her here.”

Margery had not suspected this, and she sat still, restraining surprise, as Grace rose from an unobtrusive seat at the back and came to the table. There she spoke quietly, and Margery thought she was embarrassed and reluctant; but her words were clear as she told of the quarrel and of hearing Demdike’s threat. She ended, and would have gone back to her seat, but Margery intervened and pulled her into a chair at the table, next to her own.

“You’ll stay by me now I’ve found you,” she whispered. Then she gave heed again as Baldwin spoke once more.

“That’s two sworn against two,” he announced. “There’s yet a third to swear to it.”

Roger nodded patiently.

“Who?” he asked.

“Mistress Whitaker.”

Margery jerked up in surprise. She had not thought of this; it was obvious enough, but it had somehow not occurred to her. But she saw Roger’s nod of assent, and she knew she could make no objection. So she went to the front of the table, and in the simplest words she could muster she corroborated what Grace had said.

“That’s three to two,” said Richard Baldwin quietly.

Roger nodded, and then, as he stood in thoughtful silence, Nick Banister intervened. He leaned forward in his elbow-chair.

“Master Baldwin, has harm of any sort come to you or yours since these threats were made?”

That was unexpected, and for a moment it had Richard Baldwin at a loss. Then he spoke of great Unease of spirit that had lain upon him since the Saturday. Nick Banister nodded. Then Roger pushed his chair back and seated himself; a moment later the two Justices were together in whispered talk.

Margery looked across to Richard Baldwin and ventured the ghost of a smile, which he acknowledged with a barely perceptible nod. Then she turned to Grace at her side.

“I wish this had not come,” she whispered.

Grace smiled ruefully.

“I know,” she whispered back.

“It was that word of praying for him that did it. You heard what he said at the time. It set him in mind of how Margaret died, and he’s been speaking of the Lord’s Just Vengeance ever since. Mother and I worked on him that he should make it no more than trespass, and we thought we’d prevailed. But you see how it is?”

Margery nodded. She did see, and she saw also what Grace perhaps did not see: that if Richard Baldwin did not get his Just Vengeance he might well develop a festering resentment against Roger; and Roger, she thought, had trouble enough on his hands without that.

Grace was whispering again.

“If the Demdikes can indeed do us harm, they’ll surely do it--after this.”

Margery looked up quickly, and one glance at Demdike -was enough. The old crone was still standing there beyond the table, and her dark little eyes, seemingly none so blind now, were nickering from Grace to Margery and back again, as though there were two others she would now pray for still and loud. Margery looked, and shivered as she caught that evil glance; here was that Pendle cold again.

A chair scraped behind her, and the Justices had ended their colloquy. Roger came to his feet again. He considered the Demdike sombrely, and then he spoke decisively.

“We accept it that Elizabeth Demdike and Alizon Device did enter upon the land of Richard Baldwin at Wheathead, and did not depart peacefully when ordered so to do. This we find to be trespass. We accept it also that Elizabeth Demdike did use words meaning that she did intend to invoke spirits to the harm of Richard Baldwin.”

Roger paused, and when he resumed he spoke more to Baldwin than to Demdike.

“There is testimony that this Demdike intended to invoke spirits, but none that she did in fact do so. And certainly there’s no tale of such harm done as might flow from spirit’s work.” He paused again, and he was looking very steadily at the man before him. “What needs to be proved under the Statute is that she did actually invoke; and that has not been proved. There has not even been an attempt to prove it. And proof that she merely intended to do so, which is what we’ve had, is not enough. We do not, therefore, think proper to commit to Assize on this.”

He stopped; and suddenly the goose-quills shivered in their jar as Richard Baldwin smote the table with clenched fist. But before he could speak Nick Banister had leaned forward and was interposing in Roger’s support.

“In short, Master Baldwin, there’s proof of intent to invoke, but none of invoking with intent--which is what any Judge at Lancaster would require. And to be plain with you, if we let this go to Lancaster it will not get past the Grand Jury.”

Richard Baldwin, white-faced and silent, turned from the silent Justices to his own daughter; and Margery, intercepting that look, had a rush of sympathy for him. It was the look he had had two days ago when Demdike’s evil word had wrung from him his Margaret’s name; and as he now stood rigid, looking at his girl who lived, he was as surely thinking of the other who had died--died, as he was sure, from a Demdike charm. And suddenly, from Margery’s side, Grace rose and ran to him.

He put a protecting arm round her. Then, standing so, he turned to the magistrates beyond the table and spoke in a voice that was not quite steady.

“I am answered,” he said. “And in the days to come, I’ll put my trust in the Lord of Hosts, and in Him only.”

Demdike’s stick began to tap the floor, almost as though she were applauding; and at that he turned on her and Alizon with a white-faced fury that set them shrinking quickly back.

“And as for them,” he quoted, “Thou, 0 God, shalt bring them into the pit of destruction.”

He turned his back on the standing Justices, who had yet some words to speak; and with no leave asked, and no farewell said, he left them. His arm was still round Grace as he went quickly out.

Margery turned in alarm as Roger’s chair went clattering back. He was on his feet, strained and erect, his nostrils dilating and his brows drawn down in anger. But before he could speak, Nick Banister stretched out a long arm and plucked his sleeve. Roger spun round, and for a moment the two old friends were eye to eye. Then the older man prevailed, and slowly and a shade sullenly Roger sank back into his chair. He shrugged, as though to say that another might now manage this affair, and as if in acceptance of that, Nick Banister came to his feet, speaking crisply.

“Master Nowell has announced,” he said, “that we find Elizabeth Demdike guilty of a trespass. For that she shall sit in the stocks the space of six hours.” He looked sternly across at her. “Take note that only your age spares you a whipping before the stocks. Quiet!”

He waved her into awed silence when she would have spoken, and Margery sat wondering; she had not suspected this steely dignity in friendly Nick.

“Alizon Device---“ The ring in his voice brought Alizon to her properest manners. “You too have trespassed, and you too shall sit the six hours out. You too shall note that you should have been whipped but for the need to spare your grandmother.” He turned quickly to Hargreaves. “Constable, you shall set above the stocks a paper having in great letters ‘Evil Tongues Makes Evil Lives’. Enough!”

He beckoned to Roger, and the two men went quietly out. Margery clutched at her papers, and without waiting to gather her quills and ink-horn, she ran after them. Sitting through such a scene as an impassive clerk had been a heavy trial, and now she felt desperate to talk of it. Yet at once she was thwarted, for Anne Sowerbutts pounced upon her with a tale of a poor pedlar who had been waiting these two hours to lay his cloth-of-gold before her; and soon it would be too late for the poor man to reach another house this day. Margery bit her lip with annoyance, but as she had undoubtedly been urgent with him to bring the cloth-of-gold she could hardly refuse to receive it now. So Fat Jack was produced, slightly the worse for the ale that had beguiled the tedium of his wait, and the cloth-of-gold was duly bought. But it took a full ten minutes, and Margery had barely escaped from him, and was running to the parlour, when Frank Hilliard intercepted her. Again she bit her lip as she remembered that she had promised to ride with him in the hour before dinner; and for once she failed in a promise. She swept him and his importunities aside, telling him shortly that she must be with Roger; and then she brushed past him and ran. The quarrel that had flared so openly between Richard Baldwin and her Roger was nagging at her mind; and she did not pause to reflect that this might not be a prudent way of dealing with Frank Hilliard.

She burst into the parlour and came upon them much as she had expected, Roger with his shoulders to the shelf above the hearth, and Nick Banister at ease in the elbow-chair. Roger, ale-mug in one hand and tobacco-pipe in the other, was speaking his mind about Richard Baldwin, and to Margery’s huge relief he was speaking it calmly.

“He has a head stuffed with witches,” he was saying, “and the moon crammed in on top to addle all. God’s Grace, Nick! Here’s no uncommon tale. She that squints went first, and I don’t doubt she went with a plan of thieving. That’s her trade. So Baldwin whipped her, and he showed some sense in that, I grant. Then the old beldame creaked along to see what could be got---“