Blood and Clay
by Dulcinea Norton-Smith
Copyright 2012 D. Norton-Smith
Cover Image courtesy of Cressida at Stock.xchng
Dedication
To Susan, Jim, Paul, Totty, Boo, Holly, Emma Lou,
Kimberelli, Foz, Sandra and Mandy who were all there at
the beginning and continue to inspire me.
Preface
Though this book is fictional and some of the language used is contemporary,
most of the characters and events are historically accurate.
To learn the truth behind the fiction keep reading at the end of this story.
Chapter One
“Don’t be such a wimp Lizzie, just tell them you aren’t interested. It’s up to you isn’t it? You don’t have to go doing witchy stuff if you don’t want to.”
Gabriel picked up a pebble and turned it over in his fingers a few times before taking aim at the pine cone they had set on a rock at the other side of the road. “Rats, missed again. Are there no bigger pine cones Lizzie?”
“You don’t need a bigger pine cone; you need a better aim Gabe.”
I scraped back my hair and tucked the long black strands behind my ears. I winced as my fingers got caught in the wind tangled knots but still managed to chuckle at Gabe, always ready to blame anyone but himself when he couldn’t do something.
“Anyway you won’t be finding no more cones at this time of year. You were lucky to find one that big in December. Most of ‘em will be stuffed in the church by now.”
Though I’d never been to church I lapped up the stories Gabe told me about it and I knew, from years of tales about, that there were some beautiful decorations put about at Christmas and most had pine cones and holly in them. It weren’t just his kin going to church that made us different. His kin had a bit of money too, enough to rent their own cottage anyhow. Mine had nowt but a broken old barn.
“Don’t boss me around anyhow. Find one yourself.”
Gabe smiled and pretended to aim a pebble at me before taking another shot at the cone.
“Don’t avoid talking about it. You can’t trick me into forgetting. Why don’t you just tell them you don’t want to be a witch?”
For once Gabe looked genuinely concerned. He wrinkled his nose, with its smattering of freckles, as he squinted in the winter sun. The light caught the pale green of his eyes as he stared at me, waiting for an answer.
“You don’t need to stay; it’s my job to beg not yours. Folk like you don’t have to sit for hours to wait for a scrap or a coin.”
“Stop it Lizzie. Don’t go starting another fight just so you don’t have to talk about it.”
I ignored him and looked down the road. What did he know about any of it? Only what I told him. It was just a game to him then he got to go home to his Mam and Pa in their cosy little cottage with food on the table and warmth all year round. He didn’t have to spend hours sat on Beggar’s Bend waiting for someone to come and take pity on him just so he had enough money to feed his family. I adore Gabe but he makes me angry sometimes. He has it so easy.
“Fine, I’ll be off back to my work then. Took a day off to spend it with you I did but I’m sure there’s milking to be done down John Nutter’s farm. Best be where I’m wanted.”
Gabe threw a final pebble at the pine cone, hitting it this time, and then stomped off. I sighed. I knew it was my fault. I just didn’t want to talk about it. Sometimes it bothered me that Gabe could never really understand. Easy for him to talk and tell me what to do. It weren’t him that’d get a beating for being cheeky was it?
I wiggled my toes to see if I could still feel them. The cold had slowly crept in and seeped into every part of my bones and I felt the knuckles of my toes crack and crunch like ice as I scrunched them up. The small movements made them ache as the feeling rushed back in. Then they felt normal for a moment but the relief was short lived. As soon as the feeling returned I began to feel all of the sharp, tiny stones which lay beneath my bare feet, pinching into my skin like little thorns. I walked around a bit. My legs ached so much from sitting on this rock. How long had I been here; three hours... four? Gabe had just come to play at being beggar for an hour before he left. I’d already been here for a couple of hours by the time he ambled up. It was great fun as a way to pass an hour before trotting back to a nice farm job and a happy home. I wanted to start off home but it wasn’t worth the risk. I’d been through worse pain than sore legs. To move now might mean another night without food and my stomach griped so much already.
We’d not had much left this morning, a scrap of bread and cheese and I’d given mine to Nettie. Mam, Gran and our James had taken their share but poor little Jennet looked at me with those teary eyes and I couldn’t eat mine. Not with her looking so hungry; better for her to have the extra food. I’m older; fifteen and I can go without food when I need to, but Jennet, my little Nettie, well she is just eleven and still growing. I’d give her my last scrap on earth if she needed it.
I stood up and jiggled around a bit to try and warm up. I was wearing the only clothes I had; a tunic dress which was just thick enough to keep me from freezing in the biting winds but not thick enough to actually keep me warm. I began to feel a bit warmer and some of my earlier energy returned. Just one passer–by; that’s all I needed and we would have food enough to get the family through another night. I sat back down on the rock by the side of the road. It wasn’t comfortable and it made my backside cold but at least it took some of the weight off my feet and stopped the small stones biting into my skin for a moment. I heard a clatter of wheels and squinted down the road. A farmer on a horse but one I didn’t know. His horse pulled a cart piled with veg and bags. Flour perhaps. As he drew near I called out to him.
“Sir. Can you spare me a coin or some food?” He looked at me and slowed his horse.
“Are you that Device whelp? Is that old bitch Demdike your Grand-dam? “
“Aye Sir, t’is so. My family haven’t eaten nowt but scraps for days. I’m afeart that my sister won’t last the week without more food. Can you spare me just one egg?”
“Humpf.” The farmer grunted and rode closer.
As he drew near my heart leapt. Hopefully the charity he showed would mean that I could start home. Then his booted foot shot out and hit me square in the chest. I fell backwards and tumbled over the rock behind me. He kicked his horse and carried on his journey. I lay on my back and stared at the navy and grey sky as I tried to catch my breath. I pushed myself up onto my elbows then slowly stood up and brushed the cow dung and mud that had smeared from the farmer’s boot onto my tunic. It hurt to breath but I knew it would hurt more in the morning when the bruise formed.
The kick had taken me by surprise, perhaps because the farmer had a kind face. It weren’t unusual to be treated so but it was a while since I had been stupid enough to get caught out. There was not a farmer or farmer’s wife within thirty miles that didn’t mistrust or even fear my Mam and Gran. The local farmers who passed Beggar’s Bend usually ignored me and some were even kind but there were others who were not so kind. I’d had some fair old bruises from those kicks in my time. The first time I’d been left with a bruised chest from a ride-by-kick I cried all the way home. It didn’t do me no good though. I just got another beating for coming home empty handed. I’m a lot faster at skipping out of the way of those kicks when I need to now. It’s tough begging but not half as tough as not eating is.
I waited another couple of hours by the roadside until the evening started to draw in. The nip in the air had started to make my fingers turn blue and my ears and nose stung from the cold. I was going to give up for the day when I heard horse hooves and saw a man in the distance. I said a quick prayer
of thanks when I realized that it was one of the richer men of Sabden. Mam wouldn’t be happy if she knew I prayed but that were just another of my secrets; one to keep me safe from her and Gran.
As the man on horseback got closer I got a better look. He was a refined gent. He was dressed in dark brown breeches and a purple riding coat. He looked so fine that he could have been off to church or a party. As he reached me he halted his horse. I tried not to stare at him. He set my nerves on edge. He stared at me for some time. Long enough that it made me start to squirm. He looked at me as if he were trying to read my thoughts. I looked down at my dusty feet. They still hurt. I wanted to walk away but I felt like I needed to be dismissed. Like I couldn’t go until this man said that I could. Then he spoke with that strange accent that some of the finer folk in Pendle spoke with, kind of local but with a twist.
“What are you doing by the roadside child?” the man asked. “Where are your shoes?”
He surprised me. I was taken aback at the kindness in his voice. I hadn’t expected that. Suddenly I felt more ashamed than ever. He sat there in his finery with his funny accent and spoke to me with kindness. I felt ashamed that I needed to beg. This sudden burst of pride surprised me. I'd been begging for years and it had never made me ashamed. I had to beg for my Nettie but I had never felt like this. Yet something about this particular man made me hate that I was asking for pity.
“Come on child. Are you a mute?” the man asked with a kind smile “Answer me”
“I lost my shoes when I fell in the river. I had to leave my dress on the rocks to dry. I’m on my way home now” I said quickly. I felt myself begin to panic. “I was thinking about what to tell my Mam. She gave me money to buy bread but I lost that in the river too.”
I gasped and looked away quickly. I never lied, not really, and I had no idea why I had just lied to this man. Lying is bad, I know that. I know that begging is bad but I beg to feed Nettie and I pray for forgiveness every night. Lying to save face in front of someone I didn’t even know was unforgivable and pointless, but the lie just slipped out.
“My name is Roger” said the man softly. “Let me give you a ride home. You surely can’t walk far without your shoes. What is your name child?”
“I’m Lizzie”
The man nodded and stroked the neck of his horse. It was the most beautiful horse I had ever seen. Not like the nags that usually came by this way, with mud encrusted feet and patchy, matted coats. I imagined riding on that horse with its chestnut hair and bright eyes. The five miles home would seem like no distance at all on that horse, with the wind whipping my hair from my face and along my sore feet. It could never be though. I just knew that if I got on that horse I would never want to get off. I’d want to ride faster and faster until I left my life and family so far behind that they would never find me. To have to get off the horse at home would kill me. I wanted so much to leave behind the responsibility and misery of home but I could never leave Nettie, my Nettie. I couldn’t say yes anyway. This gent might not know who I was right now but everyone knew our home, Malkin Tower. As soon as he dropped me off there he would know that I wasn’t Lizzie with a Mam who sent her to buy bread with honest money but Alizon Device, middle child of that scrounging evil family of witches, hated and feared by most of Pendle. Even worse than the pain of walking back home barefoot and frozen, would be the pain it would cause me to see the fear and disgust in his eyes.
“I’ll be fine Sir” I said, thinking for a way to get out of this corner I had backed myself into. “My uncle rides past here every day. He should be coming past any minute. He’ll take me home”.
“If you are sure” said Roger after a slight pause.
He looked at me for a while and I was scared that he had seen through my lies and was going to ask me more about my Mam or imaginary uncle. His eyes didn’t seem to reflect any pity or fear but shined with curiosity and for a moment I held my breath, half wishing for pity instead. I tried not to show that my heart was racing.
“Take this. Perhaps your mother will not be too angry at having no bread if you at least have the money.”
He threw a small drawstring purse to me. It surprised me but I caught it easily. The purse held at least five coins. More than I’d ever earned in a full month of begging. I stared at him in shock, unable to look away and unsure of what to say or why he was happy to give a complete stranger so much money. As I stared he took the decision away from me. He gave me a smile and began to ride away. He turned as the horse’s trot became a gallop, and shouted over his shoulder. For a moment I could’ve sworn he shouted “Good bye Alizon and may God be with you” but of course he hadn’t. I’d told him that my name was Lizzie.
I clutched the purse tightly and set off home. Five miles still, but miles which would be more pleasant than usual because of the added weight of the purse. All I had to figure out now was how to keep my kin from wasting it on ale and herbs.
Chapter Two
As I walked home I kept the purse clutched tightly. It was made of thin, soft leather which felt buttery in my hand and I could feel each individual coin through the material. I let the lightness in my heart take over me for a moment. I could stop going to Beggar’s Bend for a few weeks now. I could explore the hills and dales of Pendle; something I used to love as a child but which I’d scarce had time for in the last few years. The relief that we wouldn’t have to worry about food for a while made me light headed but soon the nervousness crept in again, like a River Calder eel, slipping and sliding into my gut to make it leap and flip with nerves. How would I be able to keep the money secret from Mam and Gran? I wasn’t much good at lying but I’d have to. I decided I’d hide the purse and go out each day and tell the family I was off to Beggar’s Bend.
Again I was lying but this time for the better. We need food. There was never enough food. I needed some shoes too. I’d been getting them from the girl who worked at Nutter Farm as a milk hand till now. Whenever she got new ones I would buy her old ones real cheap. They were a bit scuffed and worn but sturdy and I love those shoes. They’d see me through a year or so each time but my last pair started to pinch so bad my toes were curling under and I finally had to give up wearing them. Now I could finally afford to buy another pair.
I sat down to rest for a moment. My feet were starting to hurt again. Even the dirt around these parts is so hard it felt little different to walking on stone. Mostly it doesn’t bother me as most of the bottom of my feet has toughened up but there is still the odd pinch and I have a fair old scar on the bottom of one foot from a slip in the river on a sharp stone a couple of years back. When I walk for too long that foot aches something rotten. I was getting close to the patch of forest near home now. Most of the houses and farms around here are on the edge of the woods but only a few brave folk and the poachers go in the forest of Pendle, especially as dusk draws in. It’s called a forest but really it is just small clusters of trees here and there that separate the villages and towns.
One day, nigh on three years ago, Mam had sent me out to gather toadstools for drying. Poisonous these toadstools are and I hate it when I have to gather them. Need to wash my hands over and over when I get home to stop the juices making me sick but Mam doesn’t care much for me whinging so I go and do it without arguing. I know better than to argue. I’d been looking for a good half hour when I found myself in a clearing. There were two clearings in this part of the forest and everyone knew about the first one, the one near to Malkin Tower. Folk are superstitious around here and people say the clearing is haunted with evil spirits. The villagers around Pendle avoid it like it’ll drain their very soul away. I try not to go too near either, rumour is there was a murder happened in that clearing, though I’ve never seen or heard anything like a ghost there.
I never went in that first clearing so I'd skirted the edges of it and walked a bit farther when I found myself in a new clearing, one I didn’t know about and from the look of things no-one else had been there in a long time. There was a circle of
trees with a space in the middle but the space was clustered with a twisting, spider’s web cluster of weeds and brambles. As soon as I saw it my heart gave an extra flutter and time seemed to stop for a moment. It was beautiful in its chaos. When I closed my eyes I could see the beauty the clearing could hold with a bit of time and love. I went back every day after that to weed and clear all of the fallen twigs and overgrown flowers. My hands were spotted with blood every day as I carefully pulled up the blackberry brambles, leaving just a few around the edge of the clearing, but the blood didn’t bother me. It didn’t spoil my happiness for a minute. By the end of the summer I was left with a small garden of my own; a perfect circle with trees around the border. One of the trees was large and old with a hole in the trunk large enough for me to crawl into and sit upright. I had to keep my legs crossed inside but it was quite roomy and the floor was lined with moss with a rich, green smell tinged by the smell of soil. It was a smell that makes me feel safe. Not even Gabe knew about it. The clearing was my only safe place; the only place where I could hide the purse.
Happy that I’d decided where to hide the purse I spent my last few minutes before standing up enjoying the stream. I dangled my feet in the shallow, fast flowing water which was icy cold and soothed the parts of my feet that had been nicked or bruised by the little stones on the road. I tipped the coins onto the grass to count them. They tumbled out and clinked into a little shiny pile. Just pocket money for the man but for me it was so much more. Food and shoes were going to be the first things I bought but I would still have enough left over for ribbons for Nettie’s hair maybe even some cloth for a dress. My little Nettie is beautiful. She has a round face with rosy cheeks and blue eyes. She’s like an angel is our Nettie. Not as though our Mam or Gran would ever notice. They don’t pay her much mind. She’s no good for begging so she’s no use to our Gran.I wish I had half the looks Nettie does. At least when she is older she might be able to get herself a husband and escape. What hope do I have, all skinny and bony with pond scum eyes and grey white skin? Not even Gabe would see me as a girl fit to marry.
Blood and Clay Page 1
