Blood and Clay

by Dulcinea Norton-Smith

  When I got to the clearing I spent some time clearing the weeds and eating some of the last blackberries of the year that still clung to the brambles, not as juicy and plump as they had been but still nice and sweet in their shrivelled up hardness. The slight sour tang to the harder ones made my mouth water and the over-ripe, jammy smell from the last few plump ones I managed to find lingered on my hands. I ate until my juice soaked fingers were as shrivelled and purple as the berries but pleasantly warm from having been in my mouth as I sucked the last of the taste that had soaked into my skin. When I had eaten my fill I took one of the five coins out then hid the purse and the other four coins in the tree trunk and covered it with moss and leaves. It’d be safe here. Again my stomach flipped and my head prickled at the thought of such a big lie but I knew that if I took the purse home the money would be spent within a day and there would be no shoes for me, no ribbons for Nettie and probably no food bought either. There were always more drinks to be bought, more wax, more herbs.

  I set off home with a sigh. As always I made to take a wide berth around the haunted clearing but I smelt smoke. I looked around the woods to try and figure out where it was coming from and tried to follow it. Walking to the left or right made the smell of smoke disappear slightly so I carried on true in my course and the smell grew stronger until it was strong enough to make my eyes tingle. Before long I was almost at the haunted clearing and there was no doubt that the smoke was coming from there. I saw flickers of movement, not unusual for the forest which teamed with wildlife, but unheard of for this part of the forest. Not even creatures or bugs went near the clearing. I reached the edge of the clearing and peered through the last few trees, not wanting to get too close. In fact I wanted to run but the utter strangeness of seeing something happening here made me stay and watch.

  I was close enough now to see that the smoke came from a small fire which crackling and smouldering slowly. I finally saw what the movements were as two figures came into view. I held my breath, fearing that even one frosty puff of breath in the cold air would be seen. I stayed hidden behind a tree torn about what to do. The figures wouldn’t be able to see me back here but it still felt unsafe, dangerous even. Yet I wanted to watch and in the end curiosity got the better of me. Slowly I leaned out from behind the tree as I held my breath.

  In the clearing there seemed to be no warmth other than the glow coming from the small fire and no colour other than the brown, grass. Then I did see colour. A slab of stone lay in the middle of the clearing on top of a big chunk of stone, like a natural table that had erupted out of the earth to be used for whatever this very purpose. To begin with I couldn’t see the slab fully or what was on it. The figures danced a weaving, twisting dance with their backs to me. The hoods of their heavy brown capes obscured their heads and faces. When they finally moved I saw what they had been concealing and a jolt of shock ran through me and made me want to throw up. On the slab was a large, slick pool of blood; a slash of glistening, dark red against the background of natural muted shades. My heart raced and I caught a gasp before it escaped my lips like a traitor anxious to give away my location. I clamped my hand to my mouth and pressed my back against the tree, desperate not to move and get the attention of the figures.

  My heart drummed a desperate beat which echoed in my ears. I hoped that the figures could not hear it as clearly as I could. I knew who they were and I knew they would be angry to find me hiding and spying on them. They were witches for sure and the worst witches in the area at that. The ones I wanted to run into the least despite them being family.

  Chapter Three

  After what seemed like an eternity I finally got up the nerve to look again. I couldn’t see who or what the blood had come from. I was thankful for that. Mam and Gran bent over the slab and worked small piles of river clay into it. Over and over again they kneaded the clay until the grey lumps became marbled with scarlet and eventually turned a muddy brown.

  I ducked behind the tree again but I was filled with a desperate urge to keep looking and my stomach squirmed with nerves as if a nest of earwigs were scrambling around in my gut. Mam and Gran began to chant and hiss in low spiteful voices. They worked with the piles of clay until they became small, images of people; one a man and the other a woman. Tiny, thin plumes of smoke rose into the air as one of they began to melt candle wax. Gran held the candle over a small fire then letting the wax drip to form two small pools on the stone slab. Still chanting and hissing and screeching an inhuman song, Mam and Gran worked small cuttings of something into the wax before pressing them into the clay images. I leaned closer to try and see what the cuttings were but I was too far away. Then their hoods fell away and I caught a glimpse of their faces. Mam turned towards where I stood as if she had heard me.

  I held my breath and shot back behind the tree, hoping not to be seen. I was terrified that even the slightest breath would give me away. I didn’t want to let them know I’d been spying on them. I had never seen anything like this ritual, they said I was too stupid to be taught this stuff yet, but I remembered now having seen tiny clay dolls like those before around the house. Dolls of blood and clay designed to cause pain and death.

  I left the safety of my shelter behind the tree and moved slowly away, retracing my steps to try and get away from the clearing unnoticed. My progress was slow but silent until there was a small snap. A twig broke. It scratched the soft spot in the arch of my foot and I squealed in pain before I could stop myself. Gran whipped around. And her and Mam stood staring at the exact spot where I stood but I was too far away for them to see properly.

  “Who is it?” screeched Mam in a high pitched grating voice “We heard you. Show yourself.”

  I began to breathe quick panting gasps. I was trapped between being frozen to the spot and wanting to run as fast as I could. Mam’s temper was something I didn’t want to have to face. She flew into white hot rages sometimes and she had bruised me bad more than once for a lot less than this. Then Gran began to speak in a hissing, croaking voice which sounded like a whisper but was unbearably clear.

  “Come out now and it will be the better for you. We will send you away merely with a limp or the loss of an eye. Stay where you are and we will catch you anyway and then I cannot guarantee that you will make it away alive.”

  Mam was bad but Gran was worse. She was cold and cruel in her punishments and I did not doubt she had caused deaths before. I had waited in terror for years for the day when I angered her enough for a doll to be made of me. I tried to figure out what to do. If I moved, even if I ran, I would give away where I was and they would catch me... If I stayed where I was it would only be a few moments before they were upon me. If I went to them willingly; then what? Perhaps that was my best option. Surely they wouldn’t really lame me or take an eye when they knew it was me but still the beating I might get would be bad.The decision was made for me. Before I could move they were moving, closing in on me fast despite their ages. They seemed to scurry at an inhuman pace, their feet hidden by their long layered skirts.

  When they first started towards me they seemed to be bent double and unable to walk properly but the closer they got the straighter their backs became and the faster their feet scurried until they were all of a sudden right in front of me. I let out a small scream of surprise before I could stop it then felt Gran’s bony knotted knuckles as she pressed her hand over my mouth, pushing hard until my teeth bit into my lip and warm blood trickled over my tongue, pooling in the gaps between my teeth and gums. Their breath was hot on my face as they stood close, only slightly taller than me but their presence was so filled with rage that I found I couldn’t move. The smell of rotten fruit and meat came from the mouths and they were now so close to my face that I could see the brown and blackened teeth and the cracked flaking lips that surrounded them. I stared at the mouths, unable to look away.

  “You!” Screeched Mam as she jabbed a gnarled finger at my face. I flinched but forced my gaze up towards the faces. Gran’s eyes stare
d back at me unseeing and milky white but still staring right at the spot where I was rooted. Mam’s eyes were mismatched both in colour and in the directions they rolled. I stared back then finally found the will to move and the courage to speak.

  “Sorry Mam” I mumbled through Gran’s hand, finally finding my legs and moving back a step.

  Chapter 4

  “What are you doing hiding and spying like a pathetic little woodlouse? What interest have you in the workings of women?”

  Mam spat the words at me, her eyes rolling frantically, rarely both pointing in the same direction at the same time. I flinched again. Mam can be a bit handy with her slaps and she was raging mad right now. As Mam ranted at me I stared at her gaping mouth full of brown stumps. The familiar smell of her fetid breath warmed my face unpleasantly and caused steaming puffs of mist in the crisp air. I stopped myself from flinching again, knowing that if I did it would anger Mam even more and I’d be bound to get a beating, chances are I’d be getting one at home anyway. There’s no way they’d let me off this one.

  “Leave her” hissed my Gran.

  As her milky blind eyes stared at me I shivered. She claimed to blind, always had done since I were a babe, but I always felt that she could see just fine.

  “She’s of no matter. The deed is done and little Lizzie Lizard is too stupid to be of any threat to us. She hasn’t got no witching talent about her. Stupid as a worm. Come child, take my arm. Help an old woman back to her hearth.”

  Gran held her arm out to me. She had taken on a stooped posture and looked for all the world like the wizened, harmless old woman that she would never be. She and Mam had never shared any of their secrets with me but I’d heard talk and insults from the locals. They called them bitches, whores, witches, so many names and none of ‘em good. As usual I cringed when I took her arm but I tried not to let her or Mam see. It’s easier to play along at being a simpleton than it is to show I am payin’ any mind to what goes on. Safer too more ‘an likely. Being anything other than obedient usually earns me a beating and no food for a couple of days. No food for me means I can’t give any extra to Nettie. As we made the mile long walk back toward home Mam and Gran talked and thankfully ignored me but for the odd telling off whenever my attention wandered and Gran stumbled on a stone or tree root.

  “Will it work Ma?” Mam asked in her high pitched, rapid voice.

  Along with her roving eyeballs her habit of speaking in such urgent tones often made anyone listening to her feel the antsy panic which seeped out from her. She made me jumpy and nervous.

  “It’ll work Elizabeth” hissed Gran “We have our beliefs and they are well founded. Those that own us will not fail us and those that owe us will be filled with regret.”

  The few times I had been out with Mam I’d noticed that when she spoke the people around her would often find themselves looking around, anywhere but at her, to try to avoid her roving eyes. Those listening to Gran would be unable to look away. Although her voice was usually calm and low there was a wicked black shade of malice in everything she said and anyone nearby would be unable to tear their gaze away from her for fear of what may happen if they did.

  “They’ll pay won’t they Ma? They’ll pay for treatin’ me that way. I could ‘ave given ‘im the world.”

  As Mam spoke her voice became even higher pitched and her eyes each rolled from left to right, up and down, faster and faster as they always did when she got in a rage.

  “They’ll pay daughter. They’ll pay, don’t worry yourself. Now let that be an end to the talk.”

  We all walked on in silence. I was thankful for that and no mistake. A few moments of peace for the last part of the journey home. I knew who the little figurines were for now. Listening to Mam in her rage it made sense. I didn’t know then what they were called. The dolls were effigies; little dolls that you do badness to and badness happens to those that look like them. Even better if you have a lock of their hair or some nail clips to add in.

  Mam had been chunnering away to herself a lot lately about a man she’d been smitten for. A local widowed farmer. He wasn’t one of the rich ones but he did have cattle and land and had a kind word for everyone; even Mam. There weren’t many around here that were kind to Mam. Mam took it to mean he was interested in her. She started to visit him a lot to ask for milk or offer to cure a sick animal. Then she’d fair shocked him by saying they should get married. Well he hadn’t been being nothing but neighbourly and he’d been so surprised that he’d laughed, right in her face. Mam had taken it as him mocking her and was fair raging mad by the time she got home. That was over a week ago and she hadn’t stopped muttering to herself ever since. That man doll wouldn’t be good for the farmer; not at all. There was a woman doll too. Likely as ever that were of his mam-in-law. She’d never had time for my Mam and spat at her more ’n once. I felt sad for them, especially the farmer. He’d spared me many a kind word or bobbin of thread in the past and he didn’t deserve whatever ills they were cursing on him. This farmer wasn’t the first to come a cropper of Mam and Gran’s temper though and he wouldn’t be the last.

  I’d stopped watching where I was going and Gran stumbled. She cuffed me round the head quicker than a jack rabbit and it hurt my ear so bad I thought it was cut.

  “Owww! Sorry Gran.” I said, quick as you like. I started to concentrate more after that.

  “What money have you brought us today Lizard? I hope you have earned your keep.”

  I flinched as I realized Gran was talking to me. She felt the flinch and tutted viciously. I tried hard not to hate her but it was difficult to like someone who treated me with nowt but scorn.

  “A shilling” I said. I felt bad lying; for not admitting that I had four more shillings hidden in the clearing.

  “A shilling” screeched Mam, half scaring me to death. “Where did you get a shilling’ from? Where did she get a shilling’ from?” She stared at me then whipped her head towards Gran then back to me. “Have you been thievin’? I thought you were too much of a priss for thieving? Not useful like your brother.”

  “I haven’t been thieving. I got it at Beggar’s Bend, from a rich gent from the village. He was dressed all fine. A shilling was nothing to him”

  “What favours did you do to get a shilling’ Lizard? Show him some leg did ya? A bit more?” whined Mam.

  “No” I said. I felt my face and neck heat up. “He was just kind. Some folk are kind.”

  At age fifteen many of the village girls had begun courting but I’d never really spoken to a boy, not if you didn’t figure in our James or Gabe and they didn’t really count.

  “Aye your Pa were kind Lizard. Kind enough to knock me up with three screeching kids who take the food from my mouth. Kind enough to go and die and make us poor.”

  Mam began muttering under her breath, lost in her own anger again; anger at me and anger at men. I didn’t like it when she cursed my Pa. Pa had liked a drink a bit too much, just like James does now, but he had loved me. It weren’t his fault that he was dead. Mam and Gran never let up on him, nagging and nattering; wearing him down. He didn’t bring much money into the house, just a bit of field work here and there, mainly at harvest time. They didn’t like that didn’t Mam and Gran so James didn’t either. Always on Mam’s side was our James. Nettie was just a babe when he died; too young to do remember much at all. Me though; I had Pa until I was ten years old and I loved him just as much as I love Nettie. Drunk or sober he’d be there every night as I went to sleep. Every night he’d kiss the top of my head and tuck me snugly under the covers. I loved that so much. He would tuck me in so tightly so that the only movement I could make was wiggling my toes. He’d stay there at the end of my bed until I fell asleep and croon songs to me.

  Those were the happiest years of my life. Mam and Gran just ignored me then. No scolding or beatings; no nothing. Like they weren’t even part of my life. It wasn’t until later that they paid me mind. Pa was gone, dead and no use to them anymore, and I was needed
to help get money but there was never enough. I didn’t know how Pa had died. Old Chattox had something to do with it though. Old Chattox is like my Gran. The Grand-dam of a family, a wise woman she calls herself but she’s nowt but a witch like our Gran. Evil old cow she is and she and Gran hate each other. I don't know why they blame Chattox for Pa's death. All I know is that one day my life was happy and the next all the light and warmth was gone. When Pa died it was like someone put out the sun.