by Alan Lawton
The young boatmaster announced his arrival by gently knocking three times upon the door, his mother reacting instantly by opening the door and drawing him inside.
The two women hugged the youth affectionately and Hetty brushed away tears of relief.
“My inner-eye warned me that you were in great trouble,” she said, “and that you were probably a fugitive. Now lad, sit down and explain everything that has befallen you, then we can decide how best to bring you aid. But take care to tell us everything, for even the smallest detail may be of the greatest importance.”
Darryl then related the events that had led to his ruin and threatened to rob him of his liberty and probably his life. Hetty meanwhile, listened patiently to his every word, then uttered a deep sigh that might have been drawn from the very depths of her soul.
“My brother Robert was correct in urging you to return here and seek my assistance, for you will certainly be hanged if you are taken and brought to trial. You must therefore be placed beyond the reach of the constabulary, until I can uncover the facts that will clear your name.”
“We had best decide upon a course of action as soon as possible,” Myra commented. “For I noticed two mounted constables riding up to the mouth of the Devil’s Hill tunnel, less than an hour ago and then returning in the direction of Marple at a fair gallop. They were probably looking for the ‘Bonny Barbara’ and it’s not surprising that they failed to find her, for she’s lying out of sight, alongside the old mill wharf, with George in charge of her. There’s none to give away her position, for he told me that he discharged the temporary hand above the junction locks to avoid paying him an extra days hire.
Some old tramp, bound for Yorkshire helped him to work the boat to Elfencot for the price of a plug of tobacco.”
The girl shook her head.
“Those two constables may have been frustrated in their search, but they’ll certainly make further enquiries in the district and are sure to find out that Darryl’s family reside in this village. They will surely return with plenty of reinforcements to back them up. They’ll search this cottage and the surrounding countryside so completely, that a single mouse would be unable to avoid detection.”
Hetty acknowledged her daughter’s words with a brief nod, then turned and stared into the flames of the kitchen fire. For a full five minutes she considered the situation, then turned to face her two children with tears in her eyes.
“There’s no alternative,” she said. “My son, you must flee from here and seek sanctuary within the ‘Water-Realm’!”
The wisewoman’s statement held no meaning for the boatmaster, but his sister gasped in amazement.
“Hidden powers save us!” She cried aloud. “Mother, you cannot mean it. The Water-Realm is a violent and terrible place. He may not survive long, even if he should succeed in passing through the curtain unscathed.”
“The Water-Realm, mother?” the young man queried. “I’ve never heard of this place!”
“My son,” she replied.” We Littlewoods have always dwelt in the shadow of the ‘Devil’s Tor.’Aye, since the days when our ancestors roamed these very Pennine hills dressed in animal skins and killed their meat with spears. Always the Littlewood women have been the healers of the sick and seers who would read a palm or sell a love potion to anyone who should demand it. Yet some were great adepts who could cast their inner-selves forward into the future and foretell things that were still to occur; some were even able to use the immense power of their minds to converse readily with the wise ones who dwelt in other places.”
The witch looked deeply into her son’s eyes as though desperately willing him to believe her words.
“Aye lad, almost beyond comprehension were the mental powers possessed by many of our Little wood ancestors, powers that could only be marshalled after long years of training, meditation and by dwelling in close proximity to the terrible ‘Devil’s Tor.’The hill above us my son, marks the spot where the world in which we now reside comes into near contact with another reality, a strange place that we Littlewood witch’s call the ‘Water-Realm.’This reality is normally separated from the planet Earth by vast distances in both time and space. But at the end of each recurring cycle of five years, the two realties draw close together in the vicinity of the ‘Devil’s Tor’; for a few short weeks, they are only separated by a barrier of force as thin as gossamer. The greatest of the Littlewood seers knew the secret of tapping into the vast reservoirs of alien power that exists beyond the barrier and this reserve of energy enabled them to undertake the prodigious feats of the mind, that the ignorant and fearful call ‘Witchcraft and the works of the Devil.’My son, both your sister and I are inheritors of this terrible gift!”
Hetty paused for a few moments to allow this startling information to sink into the youth’s brain and then she continued her explanation,
“The barrier of force is at its weakest at the end of each five year cycle and may part without warning. At such times, any person or group of persons, near the vicinity of the breach, can be seized and flung into the ‘Water-Realm’ to live and die as fortune pleases.
Darryl, this is the reason why the ‘Devil’s Tor’has such an evil reputation, for travellers throughout history have suddenly disappeared whilst crossing its barren slopes. Never to be seen again! Legend has it that a cohort of Roman soldiers once marched over the hill, in the direction of York, and disappeared to a man, without leaving so much as a helmet or a discarded cloak to mark their passage. Why, in my grandfather’s day, it was said that a group of canal navies working in the depths of the Devil’s Hill tunnel, also disappeared without trace and they doubtless suffered the fate of being cast into the adjacent reality.
The witch leaned forward and squeezed her son’s hand.
“Darryl, the last cycle of five years has recently come to an end and the curtain between our two realties is now as thin as spun silk. My knowledge of the secret arts is great and my powers have never been stronger. I have the ability to sweep aside the curtain and allow you to escape into the alien reality where the misdirected justice of our world cannot hound you. But only if you possess the courage!”
Hetty paused and drew a deep breath.
“Your sister mentioned that the Water-Realm is a place where danger and violence are commonplace, yet, it is also a home to folk who are not unlike ourselves. Some few are fellow seers whose minds I can reach with the aid of my powers. They have assured me that kindness is also to be found in great abundance within their world, and that persons with courage and intelligence may prosper and find happiness.”
The witch forced a smile.
“Come lad; now say that you are willing to accept the only chance of survival that lies open to you?”
Darryl slowly nodded and a wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“I doubt if I’ve got much choice mother and I feel sure that you possess the power to transport me beyond the clutches of the constabulary. I always had a strong suspicion that you were more than a common healer when you pulled young George back from the grave, some two years ago.”
“That’s settled then.” The wisewoman replied briskly. “Now take heed, for this is how we shall push matters forward. The reality that lies beyond the curtain is a world dominated by water, and boats are vital possessions for many of the folks who dwell there. It is my intention to pass the ‘Bonny Barbara’ through the curtain whilst you are navigating her through the ‘Devil’s Hill’ tunnel. If I succeed in accomplishing this very considerable feat of ‘Magic’then your chances of surviving in the other reality will be greatly improved.”
The words were hardly out of Hetty’s mouth, when the younger woman joined her twin brother in the centre of the room.
“Mother,” she said. “You once told me that it was possible for an accomplished seer to visit the Water-Realm and return again to our own native reality. Was this true?”
“I didn’t lie,” the witch replied. “But to the best of my knowledge, only one
person has accomplished such an incredible adventure.”
She paused.
“Some three hundred years ago, this cottage was the birthplace of the greatest seer that our family ever produced; ‘Rose Littlewood’was her name. By the time that Rose attained the age of thirty, she had already served as a trusted adviser to some of the most powerful people of her day. Wealth and fame were hers for the taking. But her lust to explore the unknown knew no bounds and one day she walked to the summit of the ‘Devil’s Tor’ and transported herself to the Water-Realm. Her younger sister was serving as the wisewoman to the district of Elfencot at the time, and she never expected to see Rose alive again. Yet some ten years later, a crippled woman, prematurely aged by extreme suffering, walked into the village and knocked upon the door of this very cottage. That woman was Rose Littlewood. But she proved to be little more than a living shell and she died only a few weeks later, without giving a clear account of her adventures to the younger sister who was caring for her. However, she defiantly stated that a passage through the curtain could be made in one direction only. She insisted that any traveller wishing to return to this reality, could only find the return portal after undertaking a long and frighteningly dangerous journey to remote portions of the Water-Realm.”
Hetty paused again.
“My son,” to find this exit must be your prime concern; otherwise you can never return home. You must find it within the space of five years, so that you can re-pass the curtain when our two worlds are again in close proximity.”
Myra laid her hand upon her brother’s shoulder.
“That settles the matter,” she said quietly. “I must accompany Darryl into the Water-Realm, so that I may employ my wisewoman’s knowledge to reopen the exit curtain, otherwise he will have no chance of returning should he be fortunate in reaching the necessary portal.”
“Aye, that fact had crossed my mind,” the older woman added, “but it near breaks my heart to risk losing the pair of you. My daughter, I foresee that you will develop mystical powers far greater than my own and I feel that you would be of great assistance to your brother in the long and arduous journey that he must inevitably undertake.”
Hetty wiped tears from her eyes. “Go with my blessing, children who shared my womb.”
She paused and threw a log onto the kitchen fire.
“My inner-eye advises me that a third wanderer should journey to the Water-Realm aboard your narrowboat. Young George is devoted to you both and he would never suffer to be left behind. Indeed, why should he not plunge into another reality, for this one has shown him little mercy and you pair are amongst the few persons to have given him any real kindness.”
Hetty turned away and began throwing medicinal roots and dried herbs into a hessian sack.
“Come children,” she said. “We have many preparations to make before you embark upon your journey and little time to make them, for it cannot be long before the officers of the Constabulary arrive in the village and begin searching for their quarry.”
The three Littlewoods immediately began work and within the hour had transported almost the whole of the wisewoman’s stock of preserved food to the old mill wharf and stowed it aboard the narrowboat. They also loaded a variety of other useful items, such as hand-tools, spare clothing and a stock of coal for the all-purpose stove that was situated in the craft’s cabin. Myra, under her mother’s supervision, had filled a heavy wooden chest with potions, charms and all the other paraphernalia of a wisewoman, stowing it beneath her bunk in the cabin.
Darryl also explained the gravity of the situation to his incredulous young boat hand and advised him to travel across the hills to Yorkshire and start a new life far away from the navigations, aided by all the cash that remained in the boatmaster’s possession; but the young man would have none of it and expressed his firm intention to take his chances aboard the ‘Bonny Barbara’ along with his friends.
The evening shadows were lengthening before everything was prepared for the boat’s departure with the old barge horse standing harnessed and ready to move at the quayside. Hetty then bade a brief farewell to her children as they boarded the craft, and to each one she gave a present that she knew would be of great value in the hard years that lay ahead.
She kissed her son lightly upon the cheek and presented him with a curved sword of oriental design. The weapon was old and the deeply scored hilt showed that it had seen much service, yet the blade had an edge like a well honed razor and the balance seemed to suit the young man to perfection as he practiced swinging it around his head.
“The sword is called ‘Kingslayer,’’the wisewoman said. “It was given to your great Uncle Herbert by a Persian holy-man whom he once saved from drowning. He warned your great uncle not to sell it to buy rum, for he prophesied that it would protect the life of a kinsman as yet unborn.”
Hetty turned to her youthful witch-daughter and handed her a case containing an old parchment volume.
“This document is the grimoire of your ancestor Rose Littlewood. It contains a little of the magical knowledge that she gained whilst wandering through the Water-Realm. Unfortunately, most of the text seems to be written in a code that appears indecipherable. Yet I feel that it may prove useful to you in the trials that lie ahead.”
Finally, she strode down to the water’s edge where George was making the final adjustments to the boat’s towing line, and she pressed a small but beautifully worked spoon into his hand.
“George my lad,” she said. “Two years ago, I used all of my unseen arts to bring you back from the edge of the grave, but not for the sake of pity alone, for my inner-eye warned me that you would someday be the instrument of my children’s survival.
In giving you this spoon, I may be presenting you with the means of helping them to continue living, for this object will turn black for the briefest instant, if brought into contact with any substance that is injurious to humankind.
Hetty Littlewood, the wisewoman of Elfencot, stepped back from the wharf-side and bade the three travellers a final farewell.
“I have cast my inner self beyond the curtain and contacted one who dwells on the other side. He will meet you and give you aid and protection when you reach the Water-Realm.”
She paused, describing a magical witch-sign with her right forefinger.
“Blessed be you all.” She cried aloud. “Now go!”
The old barge horse strained at its harness and slowly the narrowboat pulled clear of the wharf with Myra at the tiller. Meanwhile, Darryl and George had scrambled up into the bows and prepared to pull aside the mass of foliage, obscuring the entrance to the disused mill wharf. Within the space of a few minutes, the ‘Bonny Barbara’ was clear of her former haven and moving down the last few yards of the main canal before plunging into the dark maw of the ‘Devil’s Hill’ tunnel.
Darryl now took over the tiller and steered the craft into the very heart of the hill, assisted by the light of a hurricane lamp suspended from a pole in the bows. George carried another lamp and led the nervous horse along the narrow towpath that hugged the right hand wall of the tunnel. None of the crew-members uttered a single word as the craft advanced into the depths of the hill, each being fully preoccupied with their own doubts and fears. The only sound that could be heard was the lapping of the water on the hull of the boat and the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves echoing from the vaulted brick roof of the tunnel.
The wisewoman watched the craft depart and then plunged into the depths of the surrounding wood. She picked her way between clumps of prickly briers, skirting the trunks of numerous blackened oaks, until she finally entered a small clearing that was dominated by a huge moss-covered stone towering a good fifteen feet above the forest floor. She retrieved a leather bag from beneath the bush, where she had previously hidden it, and began the magical ritual that she hoped would place her son and his companions well beyond the reach of the constabulary.
Firstly, she drew a small brazier from the bag and placed it upon the g
round in the shadow of the great stone and filled it to the brim with dry twigs and lumps of charcoal. She lit the brazier and blew upon its contents until they glowed red.
The witch took out a square of silk cloth that was decorated with ritual signs and spread it out upon the grass in front of the brazier. From the leather bag, she also produced a small bowl of polished copper and filled it with clear water from a spring that surfaced in a corner of the clearing and placed it in the centre of the silken cloth. Finally, she placed a bundle of scented herbs alongside the glowing brazier, then threw off her clothing and washed her body scrupulous lyin the waters of the nearby spring.
Hetty completed her ablutions, then knelt before the square of silk and began the strange and terrible ritual needed to open the portal to another world. She began the ritual proper, by casting some of the herbs upon the glowing coals and inhaling the narcotic smoke that billowed upwards in a dense cloud. Then she began singing her witch-song.
