The Whitby Witches 1 - The Whitby Witches (11 page)

'I cannot stay,' she told him at once. 'I should not be here at all, but I did promise. Now I must go.'

'Wait a minute,' gasped Ben. 'What's happened?'

She looked away and shrugged. 'My uncle has been found,' she muttered.

'Oh,' he said, 'what does that mean? Was he hiding? Had he done something horrible to your father?'

She pulled the woollen hat from her head and let the wind seize her hair. 'Silas was dead when we found him,' she answered simply. 'It was he who had been killed.'

For a moment Ben struggled to understand what she was saying and then it dawned on him. 'You mean your father did it?'

Nelda squeezed her large grey eyes tight shut and spoke with anguish. 'Never!' she cried. 'He is kind and gentle—my father would not harm anything.' Then she sobbed bitterly into her sleeve. Ben waited till the emotion subsided and produced a handkerchief from his pocket. Nelda took it and wiped her face. 'Already the tribe shuns me and my grandfather. In their eyes the blood which stains the hands of my father touches us also. I do not know what will befall us. The kin of a murderer must take some of the blame—that is the law and we must suffer it.'

'Sounds like a stupid law to me,' Ben remarked.

A slight smile tugged at the corners of Nelda's mouth; she liked this human child and found his company comforting. 'I think you are right,' she answered, 'for the old laws have never brought anything but pain. What use are they now to us wanderers of the shore? The number of our years grows ever shorter. One day we shall leave both sea and sand forever and none shall remember us.'

A gull screeched overhead and its voice reminded Nelda that she did not have time to talk at length. 'I must go now,' she told Ben. 'There is much to do, for we send Silas on his way tonight. The black boat has been prepared all day for this, his final journey. 
I slipped away to see you but I shall soon be missed. I am out of favour already, I do not wish for any more—'

She was suddenly interrupted by a shocked voice. 'NELDA!' it shrieked.

The aufwader jumped off the tombstone as though stung and stared round in terror. Coming up the grassy slope was her aunt.

Ben was overjoyed to see yet another of the strange creatures. This one looked quite comical, and delightedly he drank the sight in: the oilskin hat, the cork lifebelt, the satchels, the fishing net on the pole... Then he remembered Nelda's words. If any of her tribe were to discover that she was talking to a human, she would be severely punished. He held his breath as he saw the stern expression on the newcomer's face and waited for her to clamber up. Nelda shrank back against the tomb as her aunt approached, wondering how she would react towards Ben.

Hesper was waving her arms about like a demented windmill and her wrinkled face had turned a peculiar shade of purple. 'A human child with the sight!' she squealed in panic as she ran to her niece, skirting round Ben as though he were a bomb that might explode at any moment. 'Nelda, I thought you were wiser than to mix with such creatures. And today of all days!' She pulled up the lifebelt which had fallen round her knees and continued. 'Come away this instant, the prayer is ready to be spoken.'

'Don't blame her,' Ben piped up. 'I made her talk to me.'

Hesper's crinkled face studied him distastefully for a moment before turning back to her niece. 'Give thanks it was I who found you,' she said. 'Old Parry desired to come, and you know what a barbed tongue she has. Return with me now and we shall speak of this no more.'

Nelda threw her arms around her aunt's neck. 'You mean you won't tell? Oh, thank you.'

Hesper gave a little gasp as she struggled to get free. 'Come away! Words must be said by all the tribe over the black boat before it burns.'

'Won't I see you again, then?' Ben asked miserably.

Nelda shot a hasty glance at her aunt. Hesper pursed her lips and shook her head firmly. 'Our worlds must not mix,' she said with force. 'Tragedy has ever occurred when such attempts are made.' She gripped her niece's hand and squeezed it urgently. 'Would you have the curse tighten ever more about us?' she asked. 'Is the doom that awaits us not enough, that you would seek more?'

Nelda hung her head and prepared to say farewell to her human friend. She knew Hesper was right—it was wrong for her to hope to see Ben again. And yet...

A strange feeling swept over her, like nothing she had ever experienced before. Her head swam and the light of the setting sun faded to darkness. Nelda's eyes opened wide and they were blacker than jet, black as the pathless voids into which her thoughts voyaged. Out of her body she drifted and visions of things to come flashed past her. She saw a white, billowing shape high on the cliff-top and heard the beat of pagan drums. A glowing form shimmered from the depths of the sea and she uttered a cry of astonishment when she recognised... With a sickening lurch, the scene was snatched away and her blood turned to ice. A huge, gaping maw rushed towards her. She heard the vicious hatred in its voice as a nightmarish growl issued from the scarlet throat.

Nelda screamed and tumbled backwards, waving her arms before her face to fend off the evil which attacked her.

Hesper and Ben knelt down by the aufwader's side. Hesper rummaged quickly in one of her satchels and produced a leather flask. 'A little liquor distilled from limpets,' she explained to Ben as she poured it into her niece's mouth. In her concern, all suspicions about the boy were forgotten.

'What happened?' asked Ben fearfully. 'Will she be all right?'

Even as he spoke, Nelda's eyes flickered open. Hesper examined them; they were soft and grey once more. 'All will be well,' she said, nodding with satisfaction. 'It is the strain taking its toll, nothing more.'

Nelda choked back a cry and she clutched her aunt's arm. 'I have seen!' she exclaimed frenziedly. 'I saw it, Hesper, out under the waves. The time is near—you were right all along.'

Hesper caught her breath and leaned back. 'What did you see?' she asked in a trembling voice, not daring to hope.

Nelda took hold of her shoulders and shook her joyfully. 'That which you have sought so long—the moonkelp!'

Hesper gawped at her in disbelief for a second, then let loose a terrific squeal of glee.

Ben covered his ears and wondered why they were so excited. Finally Nelda remembered him and hurriedly told her aunt, 'I know not how this vision came to be, but I am sure this human child is caught up in our plight. Hesper, do you not see? It is written for him to play a part in this. Do not ask me how, but my heart knows his life is entwined with that of the tribe. Spurn him now and the curse will engulf us all.'

Her voice and her words were powerful, and Hesper did not doubt that Nelda had been shown a glimpse of the future. The wisdom of the cold deeps had touched her for a moment. 'Then we must tell the child of our woe,' she said simply.

Hesper struggled to her feet and looked at Ben. 'Listen to me, unhappy man-pup,' she told him soberly. 'All that you hear from this moment on must not cross your lips into another's hearing—you understand?' Ben mumbled that he did, not sure if he was prepared for what she was about to tell him.

Hesper pulled the oilskin hat further over her eyes so that they were lost in its shadow. She gazed into the distance and began. "The land has changed since our remote grandsires first harvested the waters here and wandered by the shore. It was wild hereabouts; the rocks were sharper and the cliffs reached further into the clean sea. Your kind was scarce then, I believe, but there were many tribes of our folk.' She faltered, regretting that she had not been born in such a time. 'But all things must change,' she continued. 'The stones of your dwellings were laid here and more of your folk made their way over the moor and over the water to settle at the river mouth. It is said that when first they came, our tribes welcomed them, but the two races were never at ease with each other. There were quarrels and fights. Never was there a more frightened creature than Man—like a rabbit he is, afraid of anything which walks under the moon.'

At this point Nelda interrupted. It was decided that we should withdraw from your world, Ben,' she said. 'The tribe elders asked the advice of the Lords of the Deep and so the prime laws were made.' A frown crossed her face as she wondered how much he needed to know.

'If he is to aid us the child must be told all!' Hesper muttered gravely.

Nelda swallowed and resumed the tale. 'For many years my people obeyed the strict rules of the elders and Man forgot us, or we were consigned to stories for the amusement of children. All was well and we prospered, but not as quickly as you. How crowded became the harbour and how tall became your ships. Yet you knew nothing of the sea; though you girdled the world, still you learnt nought. You were ignorant of the mysteries which lie in the deeps, of the Lords who could end everything if they so wished. Yes, your kind grew strong but your might was used for bloodshed and conquest, as you slaughtered all who dared to oppose you. Our forefathers were glad indeed that they had retreated from your race.'

'Until that fateful day,' Hesper broke in, 'that day which all rue now.'

'What happened?' asked Ben, overawed.

'The two races mingled,' Nelda answered darkly. 'A fisherman with the same sight you possess took to wife one of our kind and a child was born.'

'A creature that did not belong in either world,' said Hesper sadly. 'The moment it breathed its first breath, the Lords of the Deep were aware of it and knew the laws which they had made had been broken. When the fisherman next set sail to cast his nets they rose against him and dragged his boat under the waves. On hearing this, the child's mother became mad with grief. She threw herself off this very cliff and was dashed to pieces on the rocks below.'

'There is more,' said Nelda. 'Cheated of their revenge, the Lords vented their wrath on all women of our race. We were cursed and the fate of our kind was sealed.'

'What did they do?' ventured Ben.

'Our doom is a grim one,' said Hesper tearfully. 'Nelda's mother was one of the many who have fallen victim to it.'

Ben did not like to ask any more questions, but it was Nelda herself who explained. 'The curse of the Deep Ones is thus, Ben: they condemned every female of our kind to die in childbirth. A bitter vengeance it is, that destroys love.'

Hesper laid her hand gently on Nelda's arm. 'Now you see why we are doomed, for we cannot prosper and our future is bleak. Our tribes dwindled in number, and now only one remains. A time will come when the last black boat blazes over the sea—but who will make it and oversee its departure, I wonder?'

Ben stared miserably at the ground. It was a horrible story and one he wished he had not heard.

'Do not grieve yet,' Nelda cried, 'for there is hope, although before this night I had not believed in it myself. Only my aunt had faith and so it is right that she should tell you of it.'

A dreamy look stole over Hesper's face. 'The moonkelp,' she murmured longingly. 'That which haunts my waking hours and invades my sleep—the moonkelp. For most of my life I have suffered ridicule because of my faith in it. It appears in one of our many legends, the saga of Irl in the darkness. I heard that story by the fireside when I was younger than Nelda. Oona was a great teller of tales. Very wise she was—in many ways, save the one. All my weed and shell lore I learnt under her guidance. She too believed in the moonkelp, the treasure of the Deep Ones that was stolen by Irl from their dark, cold realm. Only once in nine hundred years does it bloom and then for one night only, when the moon is brightest in the sky. It was Oona's favourite tale and mine also.'

'But how does that help?' said Ben, shaking his head in confusion.

'Because whoever finds the lost treasure of the Lords of the Deep may ask of them anything that is in their power to give,' blurted out Nelda. 'Do you not see? If we can discover it we could ask them to lift the curse.'

'I see,' Ben whistled. 'But how can I help?'

'Just how you are involved I am not certain,' Nelda told him excitedly. 'But for an instant back then I saw the moonkelp and... and you were holding it, human child!'

The following few days were extremely busy. Ben secretly met Nelda and Hesper and together they searched the shallows for the moonkelp. Jennet began to wonder what he found to do between tea and supper, but all inquiries yielded no clues. She even offered to go with him, but these suggestions were always firmly refused. Jennet was mystified but too tired to press him any further, for she had not been sleeping at all well lately. An animal was howling in the night, keeping her awake. It was a horrible sound and she shivered in her bed, remembering the legend of the Barguest which was supposed to roam the midnight streets.

Jennet would have talked about it to Aunt Alice but the old woman seemed to be having problems of her own. After she had swept the ladies' circle out of her parlour on the night of the seance. Miss Boston had been confident that such an action would quickly be forgiven. However, some of the others were not inclined to forget the incident so readily.

Mrs Joyster did not harbour a grudge; she dismissed the whole affair in her usual military manner. She had no time for such petty grudges and greeted Miss Boston cordially when they next met in the street. Miss Droon was another who forgot the whole affair, although her motives were totally different. She was far too busy fussing round Eurydice and the kittens to harbour any ill feelings, especially as Eurydice was already showing signs of restlessness and lack of interest in her offspring.

No, it was Mrs Banbury-Scott and Miss Wethers who were snubbing Aunt Alice. Mrs Banbury-Scott swore never to set foot in that house again, for she had had to suffer the indignity of walking home that night: her chauffeur had driven the Bentley back to the rambling old house for a quick bite of supper. Miss Wethers, the postmistress, was also in a twist with herself about Alice's behaviour. The furthest she came to showing her annoyance, though, was a pert and aloof manner when Miss Boston ventured into the post office for her pension. But for dithery Edith, that was a pretty powerful declaration of annoyance.