“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”
“Why was he so angry at Gran?”
“It was nothing Nettie, just a mistake. He weren’t thinking straight. Try to forget about it. No good can come from dwelling on the past”
Nettie stayed quiet for a moment. She toyed with my feet with her toes. I nudged her back and found the sole of her foot with my big toe. Nettie giggled. We stayed as we were for a few minutes longer then Nettie spoke again.
“I don’t think it were a mistake. What did he mean about his babe? About baby Emma?”
“She was sick Nettie. She would shudder and shake. Her eyes would roll back and go glassy. She was real sick. She had been for a year.”
“He didn’t say sick Lizzie. He said dead. I heard him”
I felt my heart sink a little. I’d hoped that the lullabies I’d sung had blocked out what Richard Baldwin had been shouting but I now realized that they hadn’t.
“Baby Emma died yesterday. He thinks it had something to do with Gran.”
“Why would he think that? Because she is a witch?”
My breath caught. I rolled onto my side to look at Nettie. Nettie turned her head to stare back.
“Why do you say that Nett?”
“I’m not so little anymore. I hear things. No-one bothers to stop talking when I’m around. Not just Mam and Gran. When I go to the farms or the village, folk don’t even look at me. If Mam leaves me to sit and wait for her I sometimes sit for an hour or so and no-one bothers about little Nettie. They all just talk as if I weren’t there. The shop-keeps, the vicar; everyone. I hear a lot, our family aren‘t well liked. Nor the Chattox family.”
I was surprised. I still thought of Nettie as a baby. Not as a growing girl who could understand the family that we had been born into. My heart ached that my attempts to protect her were now so pointless. She knew the truth about our family. She must be going through the same questions in her mind as had gone through mine years earlier. Would me and Nettie grow up to be evil, wicked? What was it that made our family so different from the midwives and healers in the village? No-one saw them as evil. What made the Device’s different?
“I’m sorry Nettie. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from all of this.”
I reached out to stroke Nettie’s peach skin cheek as I spoke. She still felt like a baby to me, even though she knew so much more than I had hoped.
“You don’t need to protect me now Lizzie. Just talk to me. Tell me what happened to that poor babe.”
I paused only for a second before I began to talk. As I spoke we turned to face the canopy again and led once more on our backs. I found Nettie’s hand and held onto it as we shared body heat so as to stay in our idyllic spot for a little longer.
“About a year ago” I began “Gran argued with Richard Baldwin. I don’t know what about. They’d argued before but this time it was a bigger argument. One that was not quickly forgot. He banned our family from his land. Gran was fair angered. She flew into one of them cold rages she has and it lasted for days. James saw the back of her walking stick and left the house for a week. Went to drink and leave the women to it. I got a beating or two. She didn’t touch you. Never has. You’re everyone’s special girl.”
I looked over at Nettie fondly as I said this.
“I’m no-one’s favourite. They don’t know I’m there half the time and just shout when they do see me.”
“They don’t beat you though; they’ve never laid a finger on you. I think that’s the closest any of them get to love.”
“Mmmm, maybe.”
“Anyway when Gran calmed down she spent a day muttering to herself. Drawing shapes in the soil, making wax dolls, boiling and burning her herbs. That night she made me take her outside. Do you remember? She stayed there for about an hour then called me to help her in. After that she was happy. We had rabbit for supper. A full rabbit Nett! Like a celebration.”
“I think I remember. It seems a fair time ago. She can’t have done anything though could she? She’s blind as a mole and the Baldwin house is over five miles away. What could she have done in an hour?”
“I don’t know Net. Sometimes I think she couldn’t have done an
ything. Maybe she heard that baby Emma was ill and started rumours it was her that did it. She’s always trying to prove that she’s more powerful than Old Chattox. Sometimes though I think maybe she did do something because the very next day James came back from thieving in the village and told Mam that the Baldwin baby had started bucking like a hare.. Right there in the village. Jerks and wrenches and rolling eyeballs just like Mam. Gran laughed.”
“And now the baby’s dead?”
“Now she’s dead. May God rest her soul.”
Chapter Nine
Roger looked at the man sitting in his drawing room. His head rested in his hands and his elbows dug into his knees. In the short hour that the man had spent in Roger’s company he had gone from blind rage to heart wrenching sobs to quiet resignation.
“Johnson” called Roger “Please bring Mr Baldwin a drink. Something strong please and one for me.”
“Come now Richard. You must be strong for your family. When is the funeral?”
“Thursday. My poor baby” Richard Baldwin choked back a sob which welled in his throat. “What will you do Mr Nowell sir? Can you help me? She did it, Demdike that Devil’s whore. I know that she did. What will you do to her?”
“I can only act within the law Richard. We need at least two witnesses or a confession for me to arrest anyone for witchcraft. You stop thinking about it now. Put it out of your mind and leave the law to me. It will be dealt with.”
Chapter Ten
Roger tethered his horse to a small tree by the road and began to make his way up the hill towards Malkin Tower. He turned to his riding companion, the local constable Henry Hargreaves.
“Are you ready Mr Hargreaves? I may need you to use some force.”
“I got no qualms about using force Mr Nowell Sir. Those harridans have hurt the families of more than one man I know. That Old Demdike is pure evil and no mistaking. She came selling them herbal cures down in Sabden and I soon saw her off with a swift whip of my walking pole.”
“Hmmmm. Well we won’t be beating her for no reason Hargreaves. Crone that she is she is still a woman. Just be ready if I need you. We may need to force a confession.”
Hargreaves slapped a strap of leather he was carrying against his leg and nodded. As they got within a stone’s throw of Malkin Tower Roger saw the young Device girl, Alizon, sat on a stump of moss and lichen covered wood and combing through a younger girl’s hair. This must be Jennet, fair of face with a look of childish innocence. Alizon seemed to hear their footsteps and looked up with a start. A flash of fear shot across her face soon to be replaced with a look of confusion then embarrassment when she recognized Roger’s face. The younger girl saw their approach also and stood quickly, moving close to Alizon and clinging to her arm.
“Want me to whip the pups? See if they tell us what we need to know? They will be easier to crack than the old crone and her witch of a daughter.”
“No, of course not. They are children. Remember your versus Hargreaves. Does not Mark quote in the Holy Book "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.’?”
“Aye but does it not say in Proverbs 22:15 ‘Folly is bound up in the heart of a child, but the rod of discipline drives it far from him.’? God shall not see me wrong for beating the folly from these whelps.”
“You know your Bible Hargreaves. I do not doubt that, but know this. I will not see the children suffer when no crime has yet been proved. You will remember my station and do as I say.”
Hargreaves glared at the children and gave his strap a final slap against his thigh.
“Aye, I remember. I wouldn’t go against you Sir. No worries on that account.”
“Good man Hargreaves. Now let’s to it.”
As they reached the rotting wooden door of the house the one called Alizon stood up, the younger girl still clinging to her skirts.
“Good day little ones. Are your mother and grandmother at home?”
Alizon and the younger girl stood frozen, each staring at Roger. Hargreaves moved to his flank and slapped the leather strap against his thigh again.
“Your Mam and Gran” he said loudly “Are you simple? Moon kissed? This man is our Justice of the Peace, the blessed Roger Nowell, answer him. Are the beldams inside?”
Roger smiled at Alizon, hoping to soften the harshness of Hargreaves’ words. This seemed to snap her out of her daze and she nodded then looked towards the door. Roger nodded at Hargreaves who stepped up to the door and gave it a few big kicks with his booted foot. The door quaked in its frame and a few splinters of damp wood broke free and scattered on the still frozen ground. There came no reply so Roger shouted.
“I come to speak to Elizabeth Southerns. The one they call Mother Demdike. I come to speak to Demdike’s daughter also. The one they call Elizabeth Device. I am Roger Nowell, Justice of the Peace and you will open this door now.”
Roger’s final words were underlined by another kick to the door by Hargreaves and a minute later the door creaked open to reveal the small, bent figure of a frail old woman.
“I haven’t had the pleasure. Am I to suppose that you are the one they call Demdike madam?”
“Aye that’s the old harridan” said Hargreaves before spitting on the ground.
“It’s ok Hargreaves. I’ll take it from here. I need to hear it from the woman’s own lips. Are you Elizabeth Southerns, the one they call Demdike?”
“Aye, that I am Sir if it gives you pleasure.” said the woman in a rasping voice.
“A straight answer woman. No double talking. Are you her?”
“Aye”
“I come to talk to you about the death of the baby Grace Baldwin. Am I to come in or do you come out?”
“You can come in Mr Nowell. I got nothing to hide. I’m just a poor widow woman trying’ to care for her kin.”
Demdike stood aside to let the two men into the house. Roger stooped to go through the low doorway and as he straightened up he saw a damp, gloomy room. The heat of the low burning fire had made the dirt floor muddy as the frost had formed and melted many times over. Clumps of dank, dirty looking hay sat in corners and the whole room had an unpleasant foisty smell of mildew, a meaty sour smell of faeces and the acrid tang of urine. Roger held a piece of cloth to his nose. The scrap of white cloth was one of his few nods to the City fashions he witnessed when he visited the nearby market town of Preston and the larger place of Lancaster. A thing called a handkerchief which was carried mainly by women but also by some men. Though Roger preferred a stout piece of cloth as a more useful thing to carry these small scraps came in handy in situations such as this and there were many poor folk in the forest of Pendle that lived in conditions almost as bad. By the fire sat a middle aged woman.
“Come here madam. Join us. I assume you to be one Elizabeth Device. Be that so?”
“Aye” answered a high pitched, grating voice.
“Get up and look at your betters when they talk to you” said Hargreaves, giving the stool on which Elizabeth Device sat a kick which sent it from underneath her and her sprawling on all fours.
“Stand up” he said again as he grabbed her roughly by the collar and pulled her to her feet. Elizabeth whimpered pathetically and Roger looked at her eyes rolling frantically in their sockets as she faced him.
“Thank you Hargreaves, that will be enough.”
Hargreaves nodded and took a step backwards, the leather strap slapping against his thigh, creating a slow rhythm which seemed to set both Demdike and Elizabeth on edge.
“Now, Constable Hargreaves and I are here to question you about little Emma Baldwin. This can be as easy or as difficult as you want it to be. If you cheek me then I will let Constable Hargreaves have at it at your backs with his strap. Is that clear?”
The women nodded. Roger could now see Alizon out of the corner of his eye, still looking at him with confusion and fear and the younger girl still clutching her arm as Alizon stroked her hair and absently made shu
shing sounds to soothe her. He hoped that those two souls were both yet unclaimed by the Devil who all and sundry claimed to own the souls of the two older wretches stood before him. Yes perhaps the girls could still be saved if the older two were dealt with.
“Elizabeth Device. Do you know of the man named Richard Baldwin?”
“Aye” squeaked the middle aged woman, her eyes still rolling madly and her dry tongue slipping out from between her lips to lick the flaky, chapped skin as if in an attempt to soften it. The two actions together made her look like a deranged snake.
Blood and Clay Page 5
