Read Blood and Clay Online

Authors: Dulcinea Norton-Smith

Blood and Clay (7 page)

 


Roger so good to see you. Did you like our prayer today?

 


I appreciated it. I need all the strength God can give me

 


That you do Roger. Did you want to speak to me about
something? Have you decided what to do about the witches?

 

Roger
sat in silence for a minute, eyes closed and breathing slowly as if in prayer.
Then he raised his head and looked at the vicar.

 


Yes. I needed your counsel. I need to know that what I am
about to do is right and just in the eyes of God. People will get hurt, maybe
even killed. I need to know that it is necessary and that God will forgive me.

 


It is so bad Roger? There will be deaths?

 

Roger
heaved a big sigh.

Yes it is. It is that bad, or at least it may become so.
Witches are being hung as far as London and Scotland and as near as Lancaster.
The tortures they put those women through to make them confess. I don

t know if I have the strength to
order that to be done.

 


What is done Roger? What could be so bad?

 


They poke them. With sharp pointed sticks. They poke until
they find a spot which does not bleed and produces no pain. That is the spot
where the Devil took their blood to make them his own.

 


Well that is not pleasant Roger but it is not so terrible.
These things must be done.

 


I know. They do other things too. You know of the
floatings. We all do. Tie the women up and drop them in the village pond. If
they float they are witches and must face burning or the gallows. If they sink?
Well at least they go to heaven. I just pity those poor souls who sink;
innocent women who are mistaken for witches and end up dead.

 


It is all for the cause Roger. These women would not be accused
if they had not given us reason to fear them.

 


Yes. I know, all for the cause. There are other tortures
too. Tortures usually saved for murderers and those guilty of treason. They are
legal to use on witches now. We are no longer in the soft willed ways of Queen
Elizabeth.

 


Maybe it is for the better Roger. What are you afraid of?
That you may find witches among us?

 


No. Unfortunately I know that the Devil Brides already walk
among us. The families of Old Mother Chattox and Old Mother Demdike. We know
them too well. I am afraid that when I am called to deal with tem I will not
have the courage to order it done. To order torture and deaths of women and
children. Can this really be what God wants?

 


We cannot answer that Roger but we must trust in what our
king says. He was chosen by God to rule us. Surely he is closer to God than
even you and I. If these women and children lie with the Devil then they are
against God and against goodness. We must deal with that as forcefully as is
necessary and may God forgive us for any innocents we cause to suffer.

 


May that be so.

Said Roger. A look of relief settled
upon his previously troubled face. He was a God fearing Protestant and this man
of God sanctioned the acts that Roger was about to instigate.

 


Do you know that these women and their families are
witches? Can you be sure?

 


Aye unfortunately I am quite sure. I cannot absolutely know
until they confess but I am sure as I can be from the stories that these women
and their kin are witches. They cast charms and make herbal brews. There are
tales of their deeds also. Old Chattox is said to have killed the man who
married Demdike

s daughter. There was no body but that is the tale.

 


Just a family feud? Do they trouble others with their
deeds?

 


Aye they do. There are stories of illnesses. Richard
Baldwin has a daughter who is suffering from fits and convulsions as if
possessed by the Devil. He swears to all who will listen that it is the work of
Demdike. Just last night John Nutter came to me to make accusations. He told me
that Demdike killed his cow. He did not explain how she came to be at is farm.
I suspect he invited her there to heal the cow. Whatever the reason his cow
died, and another five this morning. He blames Demdike

s trickeries for it all.

 


As you know I keep mainly to my church and my prayers but
even I have heard gossips within this parish talk of the families and of a
murder in Pendle Forest. Is that true?

 


That I do not know. It is true that a body was found. The
body of a young man called Thomas Lister. He was murdered in a clearing near
here. It was never established who committed the foul deed only that witchcraft
was suspected. The site of the body was close to Malkin Tower where Demdike

s family live. Many think it was her
or one of hers. Maybe it wasn

t. Maybe it was.

 


If it wasn

t? Do you still seek to prosecute the families?

 


I hope to God not but I cannot ignore it any longer. The
King

s Daemonologie is quite clear. Deaths are not the crime
being punished, witchcraft is. For a sentence in gaol or worse, death of a
victim is not necessary, merely evidence of witchcraft. I think that perhaps
King James fears that they will plot against him.

 


Then they go to trial?

 


No. At least not yet, but if there are any further complaints
I will not be able to avoid it. It will not be long before news reaches London
that Lancashire is failing to take action against those in league with the
Devil. The King already fears this county. We don

t want him to fear it anymore or it
may mean the death of us all.

 


Then let us hope that there are no more complaints and if
there are then let us hope that God gives us the moral and emotional strength
that we need in order to do his bidding.

Chapter Eight
 

I
crouched in the corner. From where I sat I could see all of the kitchen and
living area. The compressed earth beneath me was warm from the constant use of
the room. The painful cold of January had passed to the less harsh damp of
February. The corner I crouched in was untouched by the drips which puddled in
many areas of the room. As I drew my legs closer to my body I used my arms to
hug Nettie who was pressed close at my side. Nettie was crying quietly and
shivering. I didn

t know if it was caused by the cold or by fear

cause she was scared by the hammering
on the door. As I hugged Nettie closer I stroked her hair and sang softly,
trying to calm her and block out the noise. Every so often I would lose my
place in the song and Nettie would squeak as another thunderstorm fist blows
assaulted the barn door, sending splinters of rotten wood flying to the ground.

 


Come out you evil wicked crones. You

re witches. I

ll have you in the courts for this
and if you don

t see the gallows I

ll kill thee myself.

The voice was loud, deep and full of
hysterical fury.

 


Be gone Richard Baldwin.

hissed Gran. Not a shred of fear or
panic in her voice.

Go back to your grieving wife. Why would you be hammering
on an old woman

s door? You should be with your family.

 


You killed my babe you witch. You killed my little girl.
She never did you no harm. It was me that banned you from my land. Why punish
her? Why punish my baby girl? My poor baby Emma

. At that the hammering finally
stopped and gave way to huge, heaving sobs from the other side of the barn
door.

 


Go home Baldwin

hissed Gran

Go home to thy wife and those that
need you. Go before our James comes home. He

ll be in a terrible rage to find a
strong grown man like yourself hammering at the door of women and children.

 

I
knew that this was an empty threat. James hadn

t got home till the early hours and
had passed out shortly after, reeking of ale. He still lay unconscious where he

d fallen, in the chair next to the
fire. Had he been awake he probably wouldn

t have bothered to help. Not as
though Gran needed any help. She were more dangerous than James when she were
in a cratchy mood. Me and Nettie stayed where we were as the sobbing from
outside gave way to silence. Nettie

s crying slowed then stopped. I stood
up and held my hand out to Nettie to help her up.

 


Do you want to go walking?

I asked Nettie. Nettie

s eyes lit up and she nodded.

 

Nettie
liked nothing in the world more than attention, whoever it came from. She were
a vain lass but fair of face with it. She was real pretty and I felt that p

rhaps I would also be vain if I were
so fortunate. Wiping the tears from Nettie

s cheeks and giving her a kiss I took
Nettie

s hand and led her out of the barn. Gran and Mam didn

t even look up when we left. We were
nowt but furniture to them sometimes. Once outside me and Nettie peeped round
corners to check that Richard Baldwin had left. When no-one pounced out at us
or shouted I breathed a sigh of relief and set out to the clearing. I

d never shared the clearing with
anyone, not even Gabe. It was just too private. The time was right for Nettie
now though. She was shooting up into a little lady now, not my baby no more,
and I hoped that we could be close friends, not just sisters. One day Mam and
Gran might grow to despise Nettie and expect as much from her as they did of
me. I hoped that by sharing the clearing with Nettie I could gift her with a
safe place to escape to on the worst days. We took a long route so we could
avoid the haunted clearing. When we got there I watched with pride as Nettie
took in all she saw and her eyes grew wide.

 

The
clearing looked beautiful in the morning light. The leaves of the canopy shone
gold, red and bronze. The grass was still green with patches of rich spongy
moss which had battled their way through winter and seemed to be celebrating
the warmer air of February. The air seemed warmer here than anywhere else. The
trees, brambles and bushes kept the wind away and turned the clearing into a
room made just for us. I led Nettie around the clearing growing even prouder
with each step as I showed her the blackberry brambles where we feasted on the
last of the small dried out fruits until our lips turned purple. Then we
stroked the roses, huddled together in a small, tight patch which had battled
through the winter and seemed to be thriving in the shelter of the clearing. We
plucked at the butterfly soft petals which smelt sweet and powdery in the
morning air. Finally I showed Nettie my special tree and we lay on the ground
staring up at the light dancing through the canopy, with our feet kept warm in
the tree trunk.

 


Why was that man banging on the door Lizzie?

 

Nettie
didn

t sound scared, just curious, and I was grateful that she
was not fearful of what might happen. I thanked God for the innocence of youth
that Nettie still had.

 


He

s a local farmer. Richard Baldwin

Other books

Swansea Girls by Catrin Collier
Spirit Dances by C.E. Murphy
The Miracle Strain by Michael Cordy
Alpha Bully by Sam Crescent
Border Fire by Amanda Scott
The Sea Hates a Coward by Nate Crowley
Paw Prints in the Moonlight by Denis O'Connor
Outcasts by Alan Janney
French Polished Murder by Hyatt, Elise