Witch from the Sea

by Philippa Carr

  I thought: He is capable of killing me if I angered him, or if he wanted to be rid of me.

  It was almost as though the ghost of Nonna had lingered with me, that she was telling me this, that she was warning me to take care.

  I felt strangely reckless. I was going to confront him with my discovery. I was not going to pretend.

  He stood there in that pose as though he kept his arms folded to stop their seizing me; and whether they would have caressed me or his fingers would have gripped my throat and he strangle the life out of me, I could not be sure.

  What I realized in that moment was that I knew little of this man.

  He said: “You should not have been in the courtyard. You should not have entered the tower. You could have stayed there for days and we not discover you. But for the fact that one of the servants was hysterical because she had seen a ghost on the ramparts and we found your petticoat there we might not have found you. When I knew you were missing I sent men out looking for you. You caused me great alarm.”

  “I am sorry to have done that.”

  “So should you be. Never behave in this way again or you will be sorry.”

  “You sound … murderous. I believe you would kill me.”

  “It is right that you should fear me.”

  “I did not say I feared you. I said I thought you capable of killing me. You are hating me now because I have discovered the nature of your business.”

  “What have you discovered?”

  “That in the tower there are goods salvaged from the sea.”

  “And why not?”

  “You could tell me why you wish to keep them so secret.”

  “Is it not better for me to take them than to let the sea have them?”

  “They are cargoes of wrecked vessels. Do they belong to you?”

  “Salvage belongs to those who bring it in.”

  “Surely sometimes there are survivors. What then?”

  “If there were, then the goods would doubtless be theirs, but if there are none we take them from the sea.”

  “But why did you not wish me to know?”

  “I do not intend to answer your questions. It is you who shall answer mine. Have you spoken of this to your mother?”

  “How could I? I have not seen her since I discovered it.”

  “Perhaps you were suspicious.”

  “I have not spoken to my mother.”

  He leaned forward suddenly and gripped my wrist.

  “Then you will speak of it to no one. Do you hear me?”

  “I hear you perfectly well.”

  “What happens in my castle is my affair. Remember that. No one else’s.”

  I said: “I never want to wear the ruby locket again.”

  He said: “You will wear it.”

  “It belonged to someone … someone drowned in a ship. Did you take it from her corpse?”

  “Be silent, you foolish woman. Be glad that you have a husband who cherishes you enough to bestow gifts on you.”

  “I don’t want those which have been snatched from the dead.”

  He turned away and went to my trinket box. When he came back the chain with the ruby locket was in his hand.

  “Put it on,” he said.

  “I prefer not to.”

  “You will put it on,” he told me.

  I refused to take it.

  With a savage gesture he fastened it about my neck. I felt it cold against my skin.

  I shut my eyes and lay there. I felt helpless to resist him although my whole body cried out for me to do so.

  He threw himself down beside me.

  He caressed my neck and played idly with the chain.

  He said: “You please me now as ever you did. I have never been so long delighted with a woman. You are fortunate, wife. We have our children and they please me. I want more sons though. We’ll have them. And there is something else we’ll have. You will do as I say and be happy to. You will say I have no will but his. And whatever he does, still for me it will be right. Say it.”

  “Nay,” I said. “You may put a chain I do not want about my neck, you may do to me what you did on the night you drugged my wine. But you cannot change my feelings. If I do not like what you do, even if I do not say so I still dislike it and nothing will change that.”

  He laughed aloud.

  “You’ve got spirit. I grant you that. That’s good, for I want to see spirit in my sons. What should it be like if they inherited the mealy-mouthed fear of a silly woman. Nay, you please me.” He had my ear between his teeth suddenly and he bit it savagely. “But know this,” he went on, “I will do as I will and you will not spy on me. You will talk of nothing you see here. Is that understood? You will close your eyes if you are squeamish. You will accept what you see here, and you will never whisper a word of it to anyone. Do you understand?”

  “I understand what you say.”

  “And you understand that you will be expected to obey.”

  “And if I do not?”

  “Then you would let forth the full force of my wrath and that can be terrible. Remember it.”

  Fear came over me then. I felt as though I had been deceiving myself and when he made love to me I knew there was no tenderness; there was only the will to force me to his.

  The coldness of the dead woman’s trinket seemed to cut into my flesh. I kept seeing the dark beautiful eyes in the miniature. I wondered: Did he see them in reality. Did he take the necklace from her while she still lived?

  I began to wish that I had never ventured into Ysella’s Tower. I had been more at ease in my ignorance. Yet something told me that if there was evil it was better to be aware of it. Evil! Was I applying that word to my life with my husband?

  I knew that life had changed. I was now aware and alert, waiting for something … I was not sure what.

  THE WOMAN FROM THE SEA

  I TRIED NOT TO think too much about what was happening during those nights when Colum and his servants were out on their scavenging expeditions. They almost always took place during nights of storm, and I would lie frozenly in my bed waiting for Colum to come in. I could picture it all so clearly. The ship in distress; the goods floating on the water; the men scrambling aboard the sinking vessel. And what of the survivors? Why were they always so docile? In those days I was guilty of closing my eyes. I realize now that there was so much I did not want to know. I was not exactly in love with Colum, but he was important to me. There was an immense physical satisfaction in our relationship for him and for me as well and that was something which we both wished to preserve. I was fascinated by him, none the less so because he was something of a figure of mystery. He was a strong man and I believe that for some women—such as myself and my mother—power is the essence of physical attraction. When I was with Colum I could not help but be aware of his strength and his power to subdue everything and everyone around him. I found a thrill in standing out against that power and in his knowledge that I did. I enjoyed his efforts to subdue me which were triumphant for him because he could tell himself he had imposed his will on me, but I knew that whatever he did to me or insisted I do I would always preserve a part of my freedom to think as I wished.

  Secretly he was aware of this. It baulked him and irked him, while it fascinated him.

  So the months passed. My mother visited us now and then but I told her nothing of what I had discovered in Ysella’s Tower.

  She would talk a great deal about how the business my father and the Landors were building up was progressing. There were disasters but it was growing and they must not expect to succeed completely at the beginning. Such an endeavour needed years of planning and work.

  Once she said: “I wish the Landors were not so averse to meeting you and Colum. They would like to see you, of course, but would not see your husband.”

  “Do they still blame Colum for the death of their daughter?”

  “I have tried to explain that it was a natural happening but they won’t have it.”
r />   “What of Fennimore?”

  “He lives at Trystan Priory with his wife when he is not at sea. I believe the little boy is very well.”

  “Surely their grandson will make up to them for the loss of their daughter.”

  “He does, I am sure, but it is natural that they go on brooding for her.” My mother changed the subject. “So many people believed that we had beaten the Spaniards off the sea with the defeat of the Armada. It was not so. They still have great strongholds in America, and Sir Walter Raleigh and the Earl of Cumberland, backed by the City of London, is amassing a fleet of men-of-war to attack the settlements in America.”

  “This will mean more war.”

  “We will always be at war with the Spanish, your father says. They are scattered all over the world. They have possessions everywhere.”

  “We defeated the great Armada though, Mother.”

  “Yes, praise be. I would to God they could take their ships out for trading only—without guns and weapons of war, simply because they did not need them.”

  “You are wishing for the impossible. You want everyone to be as peace-loving as you are.”

  “If they were no man would ever raise his hand against another.”

  “Dear Mother, how wonderful if everyone felt the same! People don’t, though. Even this trade will bring trouble, I doubt not.”

  She shivered. “When I think of the men of our family—your father, Carlos, Jacko and Penn—every one of them a seaman. You should be thankful, Linnet, that your husband does not go off on those long voyages when you cannot know what is happening to him and whether he will come back.”

  I was silent, thinking of stormy nights when Colum was about his business. I wished that I could have confided in my mother, but I resisted the temptation to do so.

  She went back to Lyon Court in September and it was on the last night of October, the 31st and what we called Hallowe’en, that the woman from the sea came into my life. That was a night which was to influence my whole life. There was always a certain amount of excitement at Hallowe’en. In Cornwall the weather was usually mild and damp at that time of the year. The spiders’ webs seemed to be festooned over every bush and little globes of moisture clung to them like glittering jewels. In the lanes there were carpets of leaves, all shades of brown from gold to russet, and the trees lifted their denuded branches to the sky to form a delicate lacy design making them as beautiful as when they were in leaf.

  Jennet chattered a great deal about the excitement in the servants’ hall. Hallowe’en was the night when witches rode on their broomsticks to attend the Sabbat only they knew where and woe betide any who walked out at midnight and strayed into their coven.

  It had happened, said Jennet, to one of the Seaward women years ago. She had never been seen again in the form by which they knew her, but there was a black cat who haunted the place looking for someone who would sell her soul to the devil in exchange for certain favours.

  “So, Mistress, don’t ’ee go out on Hallowe’en.”

  “I’m not likely to,” I replied.

  “’Twill be a thorough stormy night, I do believe,” prophesied Jennet with a shiver, “but witches take no heed of weather.”

  When it was dark a fire was lighted on a hillock outside the castle precincts; I wrapped my cloak around me and took the children to see it, but I would not let them go near it for the wind was rising fast and the sparks could prove dangerous. Connell, now three years old, was an adventurous boy and I took Jennet with me to help me look after them lest they should be too bold.

  The servants danced round the fire and when it died down they picked up the ashes which they would treasure.

  “They’ll bring luck,” said Jennet. “Protection against the evil eye. I’ll get you some, Master Connell, and you too, Mistress Tamsyn.”

  The children watched round-eyed and Connell asked questions about witches. I wouldn’t let Jennet answer them for fear she instilled some terror in them. I told them there were good witches—white witches who cured people who were sick.

  “I want to see a black witch,” declared Connell.

  It was difficult to get them to sleep that night. The wind was rising and making ominous whistling noises throughout the castle.

  I felt uneasy because a storm was brewing.

  It was one of those nights when Colum was out and I knew that that meant there was a ship in distress.

  This had happened before. I lay in bed experiencing a dreadful unrest. It was near midnight and I knew that I could not sleep. I thought of the people on the sinking ship, and of Colum and his men rowing out to pick up the salvage.

  Why were there never any survivors?

  I felt that I was propelled by an irresistible impulse. I could not lie here waiting, letting my imagination conjure up a scene. I must know what was happening. I got out of bed and put on a cloak with a hood, and heavy boots. I went out of the castle.

  The wind caught at me, buffeting me. Walking close to the castle walls I came out to the path. It was difficult to stand up and I almost crawled down to the shore. In the lee of the castle there was a little shelter. I saw dark figures running hither and thither. I stood as close to the water’s edge as I dared go. The waves rose like giant monsters and came thundering on to the sand. I heard Colum’s voice shouting: “We can’t go out yet. Wait awhile.”

  There was a ship out there, I knew. Caught, held fast on the Devil’s Teeth. The wind caught my hood and threw it back; my hair flapped about my head. The wind and rain lashed at my skirts. It blinded me.

  As I cowered there a figure loomed up before me.

  “Good God,” cried Colum, “what are you doing here?”

  “There’s a ship out there,” I cried. “Can’t we do something?”

  “Do what?” shouted Colum. “In a sea like this. What, in God’s name? Go back. Go back at once.”

  He took me by the shoulders. I could not see him very clearly but from what I could I thought he looked satanic.

  “Don’t dare come out again. Go back. By God, do as I tell you.”

  “I want to help …”

  “Go back. That’s the way to help.” He pushed me from him and I stumbled towards the castle.

  I knew there was nothing I could do by remaining there. If I could have done something to help those people on the ship I could not see but knew to be there, I would have defied him. But there was nothing.

  I made my way to the shelter of the castle and leaned against the wall. The sharp stone cut into my hand. I was shivering with the cold for my clothes were saturated with rain and sea water from those gigantic waves.

  And as I stood there I saw the men with their donkeys; they were coming towards us and each man was carrying a lantern. They did not see me standing there. They walked round the path to the Seaward Tower.

  I went into the castle. I took off my wet clothes and rubbed myself dry. I felt sick with horror. Something told me that I did not know everything of what happened on nights like this.

  I wrapped a cloak about me and went to the window. I could see nothing but the darkness. I could hear nothing but the groaning and shrieking of the wind and the sound of the waves pounding against the rocks in their fury.

  I did not go to bed. I knew I would not sleep. Colum did not come home all night. With dawn the storm had abated. The wind was screeching in a lower key; the waves were washing against the castle walls, their anger spent.

  I knew that down there the little boats would be going back and forth. They would be bringing what they could find from the vessel. They would carry it stealthily into the Seaward Tower and in a few days Colum would go away and find a buyer for what he had to sell. Then a little later Jennet would be told she was not to go to the Seaward Tower to her lover because he had other work to do than entertain his mistress.

  And out there in this fierce malignant sea men would be dying and there would be no one to save them. It was not men’s lives they were interested in; it was the ship’s c
argo; and if they saved lives what complications that might bring. What if the saved ones demanded to keep what was salvaged from their ships? So it was to the interest of Colum and his men that all perished.

  It was this that I could not forget.

  Soon after dawn I dressed myself and again went down to the shore. It was there that I found her. She was lying in the shallow water; her long dark hair floating about her. Her face was pallid and I thought she was dead.

  I waded out and caught her arm. When the wave had subsided I dragged her nearer to the shore. The next wave came and nearly carried me out with her, for the sea had not yet calmed down and the waves were still strong. But I managed to drag her free of them.

  She was lying on the sand and I knelt beside her.

  She is dead, I thought. Poor woman.

  I took her wrist and felt a pulse fluttering. Then to my horrified amazement I realized that she was heavily pregnant.

  My father had taught me a form of artificial respiration. I turned the woman’s body so that she was lying face downward, her head turned to one side. I knelt and placed my hands on her back and keeping my arms rigid I pressed with the weight of my body—thus I drove the water out of her lungs and I believed saved her life.

  I waited beside her, I rubbed her hands and wrapped her in my cloak. I watched her lest she should need further attention and in due course was rewarded for I could see that she was breathing more naturally.

  What I wanted now was to get her into the castle. I wanted to put her to bed and make sure that she had the care she so urgently needed.

  I left her lying on the shore and went back to the castle. I called several of the servants. I told them what I had discovered and we took a mule down to the shore, and dazed and shocked as the woman was we managed to get her on to the animal and bring her to the castle courtyard. There I ordered several of the men to carry her to a bed.

  They took her into the Red Room wrapped in my cloak as she was and laid her on the four-poster bed. I had not wished her to go into that room but they had put her there before I could prevent them and it seemed unwise to move her again.