Blood and Clay

by Dulcinea Norton-Smith

  “Not too hard Hargreaves” chastised Roger as the Constable yanked at the rope around my wrists. Then he cleared his throat and turned to address me.

  “Alizon Device. I am placing you under arrest and transporting you forthwith to Lancaster gaol where you will await trial. You are to be tried for the crime of witchcraft before the eyes of your peers and the eyes of God. Your family shall be told of your arrest and, should they choose not to attend the trial, will be advised by myself of your fate. Take her away Hargreaves.”

  I stared around wildly and began to struggle in the ropes as I was half tugged and half dragged out of the house and thrown onto the back of a cart where Hargreaves tethered my rope to a large nail. I looked back to see Gabe screaming and shouting in rage and panic, now restrained, not just by the peddler’s son, but by two other like sized men. The cart set off and I began to sob as I trundled towards yet another uncertain and most definitely unpleasant future.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I awoke with a jolt as the cart rumbled over a large stone which made my body rise slightly off the cart then crash back down. The slam onto the wooden cart made my bones shake and I felt as if my whole side was bruised. I struggled to push myself up into a sitting position by putting all of my weight on my elbows which were now raw and grazed from the repeated bumps and scrapes I had endured over the past few hours of riding on the back of the cart. There was a bitter nip in the air and day had turned into night, though what time it was or how long we had travelled I couldn’t guess. I tried to move my wrists but they had now gone numb, a blessing, perhaps, after the sharp pains that had plagued me hours before. Though the pain was now gone I could still see the deep red grooves in my wrists where the rough rope had worn away my skin. Dry spots of blood covered the underside of the rope and had made it even less flexible as the blood had crusted over and hardened the fibres.

  I tried to stretch my legs and back and looked around at the landscape. I realized now why I had woken up. As I sat up properly I saw that we were no longer in the Lancashire countryside but had arrived in a city. As we trundled past shops and public houses people clamoured around the cart, ignoring me completely as if it were nothing strange to see a girl bound by ropes on the back of a cart. I was assaulted by a world of scents which made my stomach cramp in hunger at both the strange and familiar food smells before lurching in disgust at the unpleasant, acrid smells of open sewers. The streets were a mix of people; poor folk begging, drunken men and women stumbling out of the various buildings and richly decorated horses and carts carrying finely dressed men and women. Finally I saw a huge building looming in the distance. Bigger than Malkin Tower, bigger even than the church at Newchurch that I often watched from afar on a Sunday. This building was as close to a castle as anything that I had ever imagined.

  “Aye ye might well stare girl” said Constable Hargreaves, his voice breaking into my thoughts. “This’ll be your home for some time now. Welcome to Lancaster Gaol.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  My stomach flipped and my skin tingled as goosebumps rose on my arms. All feeling suddenly returned to my wrists and the pain made my wince. As the cart trundled over the drawbridge into the gaol grounds the noise of the city faded to eventually be cut off as the bridge was raised. All was silent but for the clip clop of the horse’s hooves. As we reached a second door, thick oak studded with iron, a man called down from a parapet.

  “State your business here”

  “I’m transporting a prisoner on behalf of Magistrate Nowell of Pendle Forrest. A witch who will stand trial for her crimes.”

  No further voice came but instead the heavy oak door opened, a scraping, creaking noise which came as the door scraped along the floor set my teeth on edge. The horse set off again and for a second all I could hear was the clip clopping of the horse. Moments later I wished for that level of quiet again. As the door began to close behind us I started to hear the noises of the prison. The heavy thud of the door made the noise even more oppressive, as if it had been trapped inside the gaol just like the prisoners. Constable Hargreaves pulled me off the back of the cart, tugging me with the rope. I stumbled and fell to my knees, slicing them open, as my cramped knees refused to straighten and my cold feet refused to hold my weight. Hargreaves pulled me roughly to my feet and the rope set every nerve in my wrists on fire. I began to feel faint as the pain and noises overwhelmed me.

  Men’s and women’s voices blended together, some shouting, some ranting, screams, sobs, babies crying. Noises came from every direction and pushed themselves into my head, squeezing all thoughts out and making my breathing speed so much that I felt the noises were even crowding into my lungs, forcing out all of the air. Finally I grew used to the noises enough to be able to distinguish two voices closer by as I heard Hargreaves and the man from the parapet talking.

  “From Pendle are you? Godless place I’ve heard.”

  “Aye there are those who walk with the dark in their hearts and many more with fear in theirs but Mr Nowell and me, we are onto ‘em now. Whores of Satan the lot of ‘em. This one crippled a grown man.”

  “Her?” The man from the parapet guffawed in disbelief “She’s just a scrap of a gal.”

  “Don’t let that fool you. Pure evil she is and she’ll lame you soon as look at you”

  Hargreaves punctuated his words with a phlegm filled spit which landed on my brown shift dress. I stared, hypnotized, as half of it stuck and soaked into the material and the other half began a slow slimy descent down the fabric towards my leg. Finally it dropped off my hem and landed on my foot. I was too tired and too numb to do anything about it.

  “Well all yours she is now and I’m off for a drink. Where’s your best ale house in Lancaster?”

  As the man gave Hargreaves a long, rambling description of how to get to the best ale house in town I finally broke from my numbness and looked around. We were stood in a small courtyard underneath the high castle wall. In the wall were thin, slit windows. The walls were streaked with faeces, half seemed to be from the cawing ravens on the roof and parapet but half seemed to be human. This thought was confirmed as I looked up to see a stream of watery faeces and urine being tipped out of one of the thin windows. From where I stood it seemed that less than half had made it out of the window and far more still sat in the gap between the inside and the outside of the thick stone wall. I turned back to the men just in time to see the doors being hauled open again and Hargreaves mounting his horse. He didn’t give me second glance as he rode out, cart in tow, bouncing merrily as if happy to be rid of its passenger.

  As the cart went over the drawbridge and the man from the gaol placed his full weight behind the door and started to push it closed I realized that this was my chance, possibly my last chance, to escape. My legs sprung to life and I half ran half tripped towards the slowly closing door. As I gained speed I lost a shoe but I didn’t turn back. Faster and faster until I was just a few paces from the door, a few steps from freedom. Then I burst through the door onto the drawbridge. I wasn’t sure where I would go or how long I could run for but my brain didn’t allow me to worry about that. All energy was focused on escape. I took two steps onto the drawbridge and was yanked backwards. I fell onto my back with a heavy and painful thump and found myself lying in a painful twisted position on my back with my arms half twisted under my body.

  As my arms were pulled again, the move twisting my onto my stomach, I realized that I was being pulled by the rope. At the other end was the man from the parapet, huffing and wheezing as he pulled the rope tighter whilst simultaneously moving towards me. When he reached me he clutched his hand to his right side and grimaced in pain, doubled over as he caught his breath. The man was almost like a castle himself; over double my height and three times my width. His stomach was barely contained in his rough shirt and it hung over the top of his pants. His breath came down on me and was sour with the tang of ale. His head was large and bald. Beads of sweat now covered his brow. He finally gave up on ho
lding his side and straightened up.

  “You’ll regret that you little witch. Regret making me run. Don’t run for no-one me.”

  As he spoke the man tugged on the rope and gave me a rough kick in my side with his huge, booted foot then hauled me to my feet. Once he had dragged me into the courtyard he tethered the rope to a ring on the wall next to two tired looking horses, and went back to closing the heavy door. As the door closed, blocking off all lights and sounds from the city, I felt my heart sink as my last shot at freedom disappeared. As the huge man walked towards me he was still out of breath and his red, sweating face was angry and malevolent. I backed away but was soon stuck with the wall at my back and a horse at each side. My hands were still bound fast to the ring on the wall. The man soon reached my and came so close that I could see the stubble sprouting in thin patches across his chin.

  “Feisty one aren’t you witch? Well I’m not some country hick like that Constable of yours. No-one gives Warden Ainsworth the run-around. You make the most of your life here girl because the next time you leave these walls you’ll be heading for the gallows more ’n likely.”

  I tried to turn my head away from the Warden but he gripped my chin and cheeks in one large hand and squeezed until my teeth cut into the inside of my cheeks. The Warden pressed his body against me and with his other hand he roughly grabbed my breast before moving his hand downwards.

  “You want to be nice to me missy. This gaol can be as nice or as nasty as you make it. Let’s make sure you decide to make it a nice stay eh?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Nettie crouched by the door of Malkin Tower. Out in the yard a big fire had been lit and the sparks and embers danced in the dark. It was a full moon tonight and the covens had drawn together. The first time in many decades that the Chattox family and the Devices had met without fighting. There had been some bickering earlier in the night but once the food had started the bickering had settled. Now the eating was over and the lamb, stolen by James, had been picked to the bone. The bones had been removed from the spit and were cooling on the grass next to a bucket of lamb’s blood. Blood and bones; some for the ritual and some for the guests to take home. Party gifts fit for a witch.

  Nettie crept towards the fire and settled herself on the outskirts of the group. She had been sent to bed twice but she was determined to join in. Over the past few weeks Alizon had been all she heard about. First when her mother and grandmother had started to organize the naming ceremony and then, before it could take place, when Alizon had gone missing. It had taken two days for word to reach them of where she was. That Nowell man had come knocking at the door to tell them. After that it had been all Alizon again; how to save her, how she was needed now, how she could bring them power. It seemed to Nettie that Alizon was suddenly the most important person in the world. The more they had talked about her and planned for her the more Nettie had begun to get jealous. Why fuss over Alizon? She didn’t want this life, wasn’t grateful, wasn’t beautiful. Not like Nettie. Nettie sat at night wishing for this life. She was desperate to become a woman and become powerful, learn the ways of witchcraft like her family. She knew that she was pretty. With a knowledge of herbs and curses she could be whoever she wanted, no more Malkin Tower. Nettie fancied herself a lady’s life in the village. No more hand me downs either.

  Nettie had tried to take Alizon’s place but the black dog snapped at her when she came near. So did her kin. With Alizon gone everyone turned their anger on her. Perhaps they would have anyway with Alizon being the new favourite at Malkin Tower. Nettie had always loved her sister, the only person to ever show her any love back, but right now she was filled with jealously. Despite loving her she didn’t like Alizon very much. Not very much at all. Nettie moved closer to the group once more and listened to the talks. The matriarchs of the family had set their daughters, Elizabeth and Anne, to work on making effigies using clay and the sheep blood. They had already made effigies of Magistrate Nowell and the Constable Hargreaves and had set to work on those of the many witnesses being called to speak against Alizon. Nettie wondered if she should tell them about the boy she had seen Alizon with. The one she had kissed when she had thought no-one else was looking. It had been a long day, the day that Lizzie and the boy had come into the clearing. They had surprised Nettie, who had been, squashed into the empty tree trunk hiding out from Gran. She had stayed until they fell asleep then had snuck out. Nettie wondered if the two families would still be meeting if they knew that Lizzie was courting in secret. She wondered whether to tell them.

  The two families were settled with mugs of ale and listening carefully to the exchange going on between Chattox and Demdike.

  “Why should we help you? You and your kin are not our friends Demdike. We owe you no favours.”

  “Apart from the killing of our Elizabeth’s husband you mean?”

  “That weren’t us. There isn’t any proof that was us. Your Elizabeth didn’t seem too fussed about it though. Fancy she was happy to be rid of ‘im. All that talk of God. Bible in one hand and a drink in t’other.”

  “Aye that as maybe but we’ve been suffering for his loss. There's hardly any money coming into the house now and you owe us a service for that wrong doing.”

  “Even if that were true, why should we risk our neck for your kin? It's not our problem Demdike. Seems to me it would be better for me an’ mine to stay right away from you. Let that bastard Nowell hang the lot of you. Pendle would be better for it and my pockets heavier with coins too with just one wise woman to serve the villages.”

  “Ha! You think you are safe Chattox you old sow? Just ‘cause you're not a Device? That isn’t so. They might come for us first but it won’t be long before the Constable is hammering at your door too. They’re on a right mission they are. Clear the County of witches and damn us all to Hell.”

  “I hear your Lizzie has found her powers. Lamed that John Law I heard. Sent him into a fit of moon kissed madness. What makes you think we would help you free her an’ get the power of three? Don’t trust you wouldn’t do something to hurt my kin with that power. You’ve always been jealous of me and mine bein’ more powerful than you.”

  “You're no more powerful Chattox and sure as the Devil rides at night we would be more powerful than you. Aye I can see you have something to worry about there but what if we joined? With your kin and mine we’d be close to a coven. Just a few more and we would have all the power we needed. More power than the power of three a coven has.”

  “Shut your chattering Demdike. Give a woman time to think.”

  Chattox’s eyes had begun to shine with the possibilities a coven would bring. Every one of the two families knew that they could do great things if they united. Chunnering and muttering went through the families sat by the fire as Demdike and Chattox leant back, away from each other, to lean against logs set at their back. Each chewed on a small wooden pipe with their gummy mouths. Jennet stood up. Everyone seemed to have forgotten she was there. She moved around the back of the group until she reached her mother and Anne Chattox. The two women were surrounded by a small gaggle of women around the same age. Each one was chanting a different curse and swaying hypnotically. In the centre of the group Elizabeth and Anne were still at work, their hands stained muddy red and small, male figures forming from the clay in their hands. Next to them stood a row of little effigies; each one different. There were women, men and children, all like little dolls. Jennet concentrated on the words that each person was chanting. As always she was left to learn the craft that she coveted by stealth; no-one seeing her as old or worthy enough to be taught it yet. Soon the effigies were made and the chanting stopped. The women sat down in a circle and held hands before beginning to hum a low tune. Jennet was about to sit but noticed that the talks had resumed by the fireside. She made her way back to the fire, settling a bit closer to the group, braver now and more confident that she was being ignored. Chattox had begun to speak again.

  “Aye. Fancy we will help you. What
are you planning?”

  “The effigies will help. Cause some pain and suffering they will, p’raps delay the trial, but it won’t be enough. We need to break Lizzie out.”

  “Aye and how do you plan to do that?”

  “I got my ways. I come across a man on my travels not far yonder. He lives over Ilkley Way. The whisperings say he got a goodly amount of gunpowder for those folk who tried to blow up Parliament. Happen I can get some of that powder and we blow a big hole in the wall of Lancaster Gaol.”

  “An’ then what?”

  “We got effigies and the men of our kin. I fancy that with me and you working together we can make some powerful curses. When we get in we set fire to everything and anything. With all of that we will get Lizzie out no problems.”

  “They’ll come hunting for us. They’ll know who did it.”

  “Aye but by then the power of three will be restored and our coven built. Won’t be no-one who can harm us then.”