The Vanishing Witch

by Karen Maitland

  ‘He’s my father,’ Adam said. ‘I’ve a right to know what’s wrong. More right than anyone else in this house. It’s them you should be sending out.’

  Edward half rose from the table. ‘You little brat!’

  But Catlin grasped his arm. ‘He’s just a child, Edward, and naturally he’s concerned for his father.’ She smiled icily. ‘Adam, do as Master Bayus says. Go outside. I’ll discuss this matter with you later.’

  Adam was on the point of refusing, but he saw her fingers turn white as she gripped the table and sensed she was becoming dangerously angry. His nerve failed him and, as slowly as he dared, he walked from the room. When he opened the door, he almost collided with Leonia, who was standing immediately behind it. She shrank into the shadows. But as soon as he had closed the door, she tiptoed back, a finger to her lips, and leaned her shorn head against the wood. Adam joined her. He could hear Hugo Bayus talking.

  ‘As I say, Mistress Catlin, I do not believe this to have been a summer fever. It bears all the hallmarks of poison.’

  ‘I’ve not poisoned anyone!’ Diot shrieked. ‘I’d swear on every holy saint that ever was.’

  ‘Don’t be foolish, Diot dear.’ Catlin gave her tinkling laugh. ‘Master Bayus is certainly not accusing you, are you?’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of suggesting that anyone in this household . . .’ Bayus said hastily, as if he feared Diot might start crying.

  ‘Quite,’ Catlin said softly. ‘But who on earth would want to poison my dear husband, Master Bayus?’

  Leonia twisted her head round to look at Adam. She was smiling gleefully. He opened his mouth to speak, but she pressed her cool little fingertips to it, flicking her eyes warningly towards the room.

  ‘Any man in your husband’s position will have enemies, and I understand he has been made a Commissioner of Array. There are many who would wish to harm those who render such loyal service to the Crown.’

  ‘Have the others been attacked?’ That was Edward’s voice.

  ‘I fear I cannot answer that,’ Hugo Bayus said. ‘It’s not known who the other members are. Only Master Robert’s name seems to be bandied abroad, though how that came to be, I’m at a loss to know.’

  ‘But I gave my husband a ring with a serpent’s tongue embedded in it to render any poison harmless. He’s always careful to touch the ring to every dish when we dine away from home.’

  The physician gave a nervous little cough. ‘Master Robert tells me that shortly before he became ill he drank some cider. He says he was distracted and cannot recall if he took the precaution of touching the ring to the liquid.’

  ‘There was certainly no poison in the cider,’ Edward said emphatically. ‘As Master Robert will tell you, I drank first from the same flagon. He saw me. It didn’t taste mouldy or tainted and I suffered no ill-effects.’

  ‘The poison may have been in the cup, not the drink. Was it left unattended at any time?’

  ‘It was standing in the tally room a good hour or more before I returned,’ Edward said. ‘That room is reached by the staircase on the outside of the warehouse. Anyone could have crept up there unobserved.’

  Hugo Bayus grunted. ‘Then I should take the utmost care, Mistress Catlin. If the poison was intended for Master Robert—’

  ‘What do you mean, if?’ Edward said. ‘Who else could it have been intended for?’

  ‘Without knowing who committed the crime, I really cannot tell,’ Bayus said. ‘But, of course, your stepfather was the most likely target. Let’s just be thankful that it was not a lethal dose. Now I must take my leave.’

  Leonia grabbed Adam’s hand and they ran out into the courtyard. Moments later the door opened and the physician came out in search of his horse, jamming his hat on his head to keep the sun from his bald pate.

  Leonia and Adam ducked out of sight behind the kitchen and as soon as he had ridden off they slipped out of the yard. Adam turned in the direction of the river, but Leonia tugged at his arm. ‘No, this way.’

  They climbed the steep hill and turned into one of the small alleyways whose steps led up to Pottergate and out through the city wall. They were panting after the climb in the heat and paused to draw breath and stare out over the valley below. They were standing on the edge of the escarpment; above them and just visible over the city walls was the great cathedral. To the right lay the Bishop’s Palace, vineyards sprawling down the slope below, but where they were standing the hill ended in a sharp cliff.

  Opposite, on the other side of the valley, another huge cliff curved away to the left, and to the right lay the flat basin of Braytheforde harbour, crammed with boats which, from that height, looked like tadpoles swarming in a puddle. Between the scarp and the distant cliff, the glittering river wound through flat fields and hamlets towards the fens. A dense, shimmering heat rose from the land below, mingled with the smoke of cooking fires, so that the little cottages seemed like midges dancing in a haze.

  Leonia dived between two trees and scrambled over the edge of the cliff. Adam hesitated, peering down. He couldn’t see any sign of her and for a moment was terrified she’d fallen to the bottom. Then he heard her voice calling from somewhere close below him. Clinging to the bushes, he picked his way down the rocks, until he saw a broad grassy ledge. There didn’t seem to be any way of reaching it.

  ‘Jump,’ Leonia urged.

  He was afraid, but he couldn’t refuse. He jumped, wincing as his knee jarred when he hit the ground. The brief rainstorm of a few days ago had done little to soften the baked earth. There was no sign of Leonia.

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘In here . . . behind you.’

  He saw only a few scrubby bushes clinging to the rock. Then he glimpsed her hand waving from behind one. He edged forward, and parted the bushes. What he had taken to be merely a dark shadow, he saw was the entrance to a cave, long and low, like a grin on the cliff face. Leonia was squatting inside on the rough ground. Adam crawled in and sat beside her. It was blissfully cool, though it smelt of fox and cat. Suddenly he felt very safe, as if no other person in the world could ever find this place.

  As his eyes adjusted to the dimness he saw that the cave contained the remains of what looked like large pots. One had a great serpent cut into the clay, curving right around to bite its own tail. Some of the pots were whole, but others smashed, the shards lying in what seemed to be piles of ashes and charred fragments. He picked up something, thinking it to be a stone, but it was too light for that. He realised it was a piece of bone.

  ‘What is this place?’

  Leonia touched the wall as if it was a shrine. ‘I found it a long time ago. There are more like this, but mostly further round, where there’s no ledge and I can’t get into them. It’s a special place. Only I know about it, but I’m going to trust you with all my secrets now, because I know you’ll never tell, will you, Adam? We keep each other’s secrets. We share everything. We take care of each other.’ Fleetingly, she touched his cheek. ‘We’ll always take care of each other, won’t we, Adam?’

  He felt his face grow hot. His skin tingled where her fingers had stroked him. He wanted to hold his cheek, so he could keep feeling the touch of her hand, but he was afraid she would laugh at him. He hugged himself in delight. She had brought him to her secret place. A place no one else in the whole world knew about. It was theirs now, hers and his together. She did trust him, she really did. He was desperate to do something – anything – in return, but he could think of nothing to give her. He knew that whatever he said or did would not be good enough to match this.

  Leonia reached behind her, and lifted a flat piece of stone. Reaching for his hand, she tipped some amber beads into it, with some long bear’s claws and a piece of gold. After dutifully examining them, Adam dropped the beads and claws back into her lap and held the gold up to the sunlight in the entrance. It was the head of an animal, with red garnet eyes and twin bands of garnets running down over its head from neck to snout.

  ‘There are peopl
e here, dead people,’ Leonia said. ‘I hear them whispering. That golden boar belonged to one of them.’

  Adam dropped it, as if it had burned his hand. It bounced a couple of times before coming to rest, quivering, in front of Leonia. She scooped it up and replaced all her treasures under the stone.

  ‘Aren’t you going to ask me?’

  One question had been throbbing in his head ever since Robert had been brought home sick, but he hadn’t dared to ask.

  He took a deep breath, holding himself stiff against the anger he felt sure would explode from her. ‘Did you make a poppet to punish Fath— Robert?’

  She didn’t answer. He glanced sideways at her. He couldn’t see her expression clearly, only the glitter of her eyes in the shadows.

  ‘I don’t mind if you did,’ he added quickly. ‘In fact I’d be glad. I wanted to hurt him after what he did to you. He deserves to be punished. He should have stopped Catlin. It was him . . . he touched you. She should have cut him, not you.’

  His eyes stung with tears and his chest felt crushed beneath the weight of his hatred. His father was old, disgusting. When Leonia had told him what he done to her he’d almost vomited. His rage was due in no small part to the fact that he had lain awake night after night dreaming of kissing Leonia himself, but he hadn’t done it because she was his sister. Robert kept telling him Leonia was his sister. Adam felt dirty and ashamed for even thinking of touching her.

  And then Robert, who was supposed to be her father, had laid his hands on her. That was worse, far worse, than a brother doing it. Adam wanted to smash his face to a pulp, like they had smashed Fulk’s face. He cursed himself for not being there to protect Leonia. If he had, he would have fought Robert for her. But then for Catlin to cut her hair, her beautiful hair . . .

  ‘Did you, Leonia? If you hurt him, I’m glad.’

  ‘If I had, he wouldn’t be getting better.’ She turned to face Adam. ‘If I’d punished Robert, he’d be dead.’

  Adam was startled. He’d been so sure she’d done it and he’d been pleased she’d had her revenge. But he believed her when she said she hadn’t. Leonia had never lied to him. If she had made a poppet, she would have told him.

  ‘Do you think Hugo Bayus was right, then? It was poison? But who did it? Was it . . .’ Adam hesitated. Should he tell Leonia that he’d seen Catlin putting the drops into his mother’s posset? He’d never dared before because Catlin was her mother, but Leonia hated her. Maybe she’d believe him, even if his own father didn’t.

  ‘It was Edward who poisoned the cup,’ Leonia said. ‘He’s not very good at it, though. He wants Robert dead so he can have his money.’

  ‘But if my father’s dies, his money’ll be mine,’ Adam said indignantly. ‘I’m his son.’

  ‘But they won’t let you have it till you’re of age and, because you’re a boy, that won’t be until you’re twenty-one. They’ll let Catlin look after it till then, ’cept she won’t. She’ll give it to Edward – at least that’s what he thinks.’

  ‘Your mother can’t do that!’ Adam shouted. ‘I won’t let her. I’ll warn my father. I’ll tell him everything!’

  ‘He won’t believe you. He never listens to you.’

  Picking up a fragment of the bone, she traced a pattern in the ash that had spilled out from one of the jars. Adam leaned closer. It was a serpent swallowing its tail, like the one on the jar and on the shoes Leonia wore. Although he knew his eyes must be playing tricks in the dim light, it seemed to him that the snake was undulating across the floor of the cave towards Leonia and wriggling up beneath her skirts.

  Without lifting her head, she said quietly, ‘Catlin killed your mother, Adam. You know that, don’t you?’

  A rush of relief and anger flooded through him. ‘I told them – I told them she had, but no one would listen, except Beata and Jan, and Robert locked Beata up and Jan’s dead.’

  Leonia laid a cool hand on Adam’s arm. ‘That’s why they have to die, Adam. Robert and Catlin have to be punished. You want that, don’t you? You want to help me punish them? You want to kill them, don’t you, like she killed your mother?’

  Adam nodded, his fists clenched over his face. He wanted that more than anything in the world at this moment. He wanted them both to die, and when they were dead, he would laugh and laugh and never stop laughing.

  ‘We needed them to marry so we could find each other,’ Leonia whispered. ‘But we don’t need them any more. And when they’re dead we’ll have everything we want from them.’

  He felt her soft arm round his shoulders and her hand on his, pulling his fingers away from his face. She turned his head towards her, brushing away his tears of rage. He smelt her violet-sweet breath, watching in a trance as her mouth came slowly towards him. He felt her soft, warm lips press on his. As he closed his eyes, she took his hand and cupped it gently around her little breast.

  Chapter 66

  If the fire in the hearth burns in a hollow, like a grave, someone present in the house will shortly die.

  Mistress Catlin

  I couldn’t sleep. Robert had fallen into a near drunken stupor, which he had seemed compelled to do every night since he’d returned from London in order to sleep at all. The beast lay on his back in our great bed and his rumbling snores were so loud they made the bed shake. Every time I began to doze from sheer exhaustion, I’d be startled awake by his sudden snorts and gasps before the snoring resumed, heavier than before. The night air was sticky and oppressive. Robert’s sweating carcass radiated heat, like a baker’s oven. I felt as if I were being smothered.

  I slid out of bed, slipping on the new fur wrap Robert had bought me to cover my naked body. Opening the casement, I leaned out, trying to catch whatever breeze might be blowing up from the river, but it brought no blessed coolness, only the stench of rotting fish and mud. Far off, a dog was howling and its cries were soon caught up by others, baying across the city, like watchmen calling news to one another. I paddled through the pool of silver moonlight on the floor, quietly opened the door and made my way past the sleeping children down the stairs to the great hall.

  Diot was sleeping in the courtyard. She’d melt into a puddle of lard indoors in the sweltering heat. Besides, she knew I was furious with her and was keeping well out of my way. The fear on her face when Bayus mentioned poison would have been enough to convince anyone she’d done it. I could have strangled her. How could anyone so foolish be my . . . I shuddered and thrust away the thought.

  Tenney, of course, had not returned. I told Robert to declare the manservant and his whore both thieves and have them hunted down and hanged. I would enjoy watching that. But Robert was still insisting that Tenney would never simply abandon his employ, much less steal anything so valuable as a horse and cart. He was convinced that, as soon as he had delivered Beata to her people, assuming she had any, he’d be back to resume his duties as before. It was a mystery to me how a man so gullible had ever held onto his business.

  Still, there would be time enough later to deal with Beata and Tenney and see that they paid dearly for their theft. For now, it was as well that they were out of the way. Robert was quite alone and unprotected. I could take my time disposing of him and savour every moment.

  Edward lay on his straw pallet in the great hall. He was awake. I could see his eyes glittering in the moonlight, which seeped through the cracks in the shutters. He was staring malevolently at the ceiling, for even down in the hall, Robert’s snores rumbled through the floorboards.

  A single candle burned at the far end of the hall and I poured a goblet of wine for myself and Edward, and knelt beside him on the floor. He sat up, taking a great gulp. ‘The old hog’s in fine voice tonight,’ he said. ‘I take it he’s recovering.’

  ‘No thanks to you,’ I snapped. ‘What did you think you were doing with that cider?’

  ‘What makes you think I—’

  ‘Don’t try to deny it,’ I said. ‘You’re lucky Bayus is so blinded by Robert’s wealth and posit
ion that it never occurred to him anyone in this respectable family would attempt such a thing. You’re a fool, Edward. Putting poison in a drink is the work of a child and about as subtle as cleaving someone in two with an axe. Even an apprentice physician would have seen that Robert didn’t have the summer fever. At the very least you might have ensured you weren’t there when he was taken ill.’

  ‘It’s not my fault,’ Edward muttered sulkily. ‘I hadn’t intended to be there. By the time it took effect, I should have been laying charges against Martin before the sheriff. Robert would have been alone in the warehouse and would have died alone, too, by the time anyone found him. Given his great bulk, I thought it’d be at least an hour before anything happened.’

  ‘But you didn’t think, did you?’ I said. ‘And now Martin’s gone straight to the sheriff and tried to ingratiate himself by not only reporting Gunter and his son for treason but also saying that you and I saw the burns on the boy’s back. Suppose we’re called as witnesses. Who else might be in the court? The justices travel on a wide circuit.’

  ‘And I suppose Sheriff Thomas told you all about Martin, while you flattered him and flirted till he didn’t know which way round his head was stuck on. I feel sorry for him. It’s like watching a partridge wander blithely towards a fox. You do realise, don’t you, that Thomas is only sheriff for a year? Though, I grant you, he’ll still be a plump capon to pluck. He’s a wealthy enough lover even for you, little Maman.’

  I ignored his childish petulance. He was only lashing out because he knew how stupid he’d been. He was at heart no more than a little boy. I smoothed the white flash in his dark hair.

  ‘You would do well to follow my example and make a friend of the sheriff. We are going to need him when Robert is dead. But I told you to wait, Edward. I said I would deal with Robert.’

  ‘I can’t afford to wait!’ Edward drained his goblet. ‘Leonia’s thirteen, old enough to marry, so if the claim isn’t made before her next birthday, I’ll never get my hands on my land . . . our land. Besides, I won’t stand for the old bastard giving me orders and treating me like some scullion while he’s slobbering over you. I’ll not put up with it much longer. Get rid of him now or I’ll do it for you. Next time I won’t make any mistakes.’