She dug relentlessly, unbothered by the thought that she was disturbing someone laid to rest. The girl here was long dead, she reasoned. And whether she had the hagstone or not, she would no longer be worried by whatever Madeleine was doing. It took several hours, until Madeleine was hot and sweating and her hands were raw, but finally she felt her spade scrape against something solid. Beginning to grow anxious about how long this was taking, Madeleine reached down a trembling hand and brushed away the dirt. Her fingertips met with wood.
Madeleine cleared away the rest of the soil with her brush, until the coffin was left completely exposed, and then ran her hands right around the edges to find the latch – but there was none. Presumably whoever had buried the witch had thought it extremely unlikely that anyone would get past the mortsafe. So Madeleine flung the brush back out of the grave and simply lifted the lid up. Wrought with anticipation, she looked eagerly into the coffin – and shuddered.
The witch's body was still perfectly intact. Her face had remained the face of a fifteen-year-old girl, bright and youthful and somehow still wearing the saddest expression. The flowers she had been buried with, a simple posy of lavender, were still in bloom, and still smelled sweet. Madeleine looked down at her in horrified fascination. And then she saw it. The hagstone.
It lay at the witch's breast, wrapped in wire and fastened to the end of a leather thong around her neck, which had remained as perfectly intact as her body. And there was no doubt that this was the hagstone she was looking for. The stone was the perfect opposite of the hagstones that had been described in the Compendium of Faerie. The outer stone was crystal clear, and where the hole in its centre should have been it was inlaid with a second stone, grey and rough and plain.
Madeleine's blood began pounding in her ears. She had expected to feel elated at finding the proof that her theories had been correct, but now that she was here she just felt very, very anxious. Even the little voice that had urged her on to find the stone had gone quiet. Still; what else was she supposed to do now? Madeleine reached down into the coffin, and tilted the witch's head up and forwards so that she could remove the hagstone from around her neck. As soon as Madeleine pulled the necklace from the body, the witch's skin seemed to slacken. The smell of decay was suddenly overwhelming, and Madeleine had to fight the sensation that she was going vomit. She clambered swiftly out of the grave, closing the coffin lid behind her and hurrying to pile the mud back into the ground. She couldn't fill it in fast enough, and even when she was done she still felt nauseated. After a moment, she returned the iron bars to their position over the grave too, as though they might keep secret what she had done. She wished she could fix the padlock, but no kind of magic worked on iron.
Madeleine was trembling now, every one of her instincts screaming at her to leave – to get away from this place as quickly as possible. With fumbling hands, she grabbed her bag, swung the shovel over her shoulder, and hastened away from the church, from the graveyard, and from the decaying witch. She fought the urge to run, knowing that she would give totally into her panic if she did. She contented herself with walking as quickly as she could until she reached the beach.
Hesitantly, Madeleine reached up to hang the hagstone around her own neck. Trying her best to swallow the feeling that she had just done something very, very wrong, she pushed the boat back out into the shallows, and raced for home.
8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Madeleine couldn't shake the feeling that she had done something terrible.
Fraser had questioned her when he'd seen it, of course. Madeleine told him a half-truth which was in keeping with what she had told him when she had left him and Tabitha to go to Ondine's: that when she'd been out on the boat she had decided to go further downriver than usual, and then on impulse had gone out to the island. There, she said, she had found it buried in the earth.
At first Fraser had just been irate that she had gone to the island on her own.
“It's dangerous!” he snapped at her. “You know the rules; people don't go to sea on their own. What would have happened if you'd been taken out by the current?”
“But I wasn't,” Madeleine said, trying to remind herself that Fraser had no way of knowing just how many more dangerous things she had done in her lifetime. “I'm fine.”
“You didn't even tell me you were going. If you hadn't come back, I wouldn't have known where to find you.”
“I told you, Fraser, it was an impulse decision.” She was finding it hard to sound soothing.
“And what should I have told Tab if you hadn't come back?”
This stumped Madeleine. And worried her.
When it eventually became clear that Madeleine wouldn't relent for having gone out to the island, Fraser turned his complaints to the necklace itself.
“I don't think you should have taken it,” he told her nervously. “I think you should take it back.”
“It was so beautiful,” she replied, “I couldn't just leave it there.”
“It must belong to somebody.” Fraser rubbed at his brow. “Someone must have made it.”
“Nonsense,” Madeleine said sharply. “It's just two stones joined together. Like when you find flint, coated with white on the outside and shining black within. And besides, you know no one lives over on the island.”
“But if it is stolen...” Fraser looked up at her. “It might be more trouble than it's worth, Maude.”
They continued to bicker over it, but no matter what Fraser said, Madeleine insisted on wearing the hagstone constantly about her neck. She at last relented to keeping it hidden beneath her clothes, but whenever they went to bed Fraser's face would darken as he saw it, and they would have the same argument all over again.
She took to spending longer hours out on the boat, away from the reproachful eyes of her family and where she could examine the hagstone at her leisure. To her disappointment, aside from its unusual beauty the seemed quite ordinary. Madeleine would turn it over in her hands, feeling the smooth texture of the outer stone change to rough when she ran her thumb across its centre, and she wondered how anyone had ever figured out how to use it as a door. Now that it was in her possession, she realised, she had no idea whatsoever how to make it work. Or even what she was going to do with it now that she had it.
And although she never confessed it to Fraser – for how could she? – Madeleine began to have her own worries about having found the stone. She knew that the Iron Court were unlikely to give up on their search for the hagstone just because one of their thieves hadn't returned from a mission. What if they found her here, with the hagstone in her possession? What if they had already found her, and were simply biding their time? Perhaps they had even been watching her all of these years, knowing that she would be unable to resist retrieving the stone in the end. If they knew or even so much as suspected that Madeleine now possessed the hagstone, this would be the end of her life here. They had the power to ruin everything, Madeleine knew, not just for her, but for her family – and, for good measure, for the entire village.
She began to insist that she take on the housework while Fraser went out to fish, saying that she wasn't feeling strong enough to go out at the moment.
“I can't, Fraser,” she said, her fright coming out as anger. “Didn't I tell you I'm not feeling well?”
“Please, Maude,” he said.
“I can't.”
“Then just tell me – what's wrong?”
“I feel weak all the time,” she lied feebly. “Like all the strength has gone from my arms.”
“It probably has, since you've been cooped up like a little hen for two weeks now!” he said, trying to make her laugh. But Madeleine just sighed and looked pained, and so he moved closer to her, and took her in his arms.
“Maude,” he said softly. “What's going on? Just tell me – how can I help make it better?”
But Madeleine refused to meet his eyes.
“You can let me stay at home,” she said.
&nb
sp; Fraser let her go, frustrated.
“No,” he said. “No, I don't think that would help you at all.”
But whenever possible Madeleine made her excuses, and on the occasions when she had no choice but to go out, she would return just as soon as she had made her catch.
If the other fisherfolk noticed that Madeleine was behaving oddly, they were polite enough not to say anything to her face. But Fraser received pats on the shoulder, nods in the street, even surplus supplies from the other villagers. And their faces all said the same to him. Foreign blood. It was never going to work out with her in the end. He ignored them all, but privately began to tear his hair out with worry over what had happened to his partner.
The person who said the most to Madeleine was Tabitha, who had no qualms about upsetting her father or being polite to her mother. She complained when her father was gone more often. She pouted that when her mother went out to fish, she wasn't gone for long enough for Tabitha to swim out to her boat. She wailed that they never went down to the beach to play or set out on their walks anymore. For Tabitha, who loved the land she was growing up on, this was agony. Madeleine tried to placate her, reassuring her that they would have just as much fun at home. And for a while she managed to keep Tabitha in check. Until they stopped going to the library.
“Let's go, Mama,” Tabitha implored, hanging onto Madeleine's hand and frowning up at her mother. “I want to read today.”
“Not today, darling,” Madeleine said, trying her best to smile. “There are things I need to do here today.”
“But we haven't been in ages,” Tabitha frowned. “Let's go this afternoon.”
“Not today, Tab,” Madeleine said again.
“But why not?”
“I told you, Tab. I've got things to do.”
“What things? We never do anything anymore.”
Tabitha pulled away from her and gave her a dark look from under lowered eyebrows. Madeleine couldn't look at her.
“Why won't you read with me, Mama?”
Madeleine could feel the furious, hurt waves rolling off her daughter. Her heart broke, and she tried something else.
“How about this,” she said weakly. “I've got a book here that we can read. Would you like to read that with me?”
Tabitha was caught off-guard, and the threatening tears disappeared. “What book?”
“Fairytales – a book of fairytales. Wait here. Wait here, Tabitha. It's a surprise”
Madeleine slipped into the bedroom, made sure that Tabitha wasn't following her, and then hurried up to the rafters to retrieve the Compendium of Faerie from the cavity in the wall. Without putting her things away properly, she dropped back down to the floor and darted through to the other room to where Tabitha had flung herself onto the rugs on the floor and was still looking very unhappy with her mother.
“See?” Madeleine breathlessly held the book up.
“Why do you have it here?” Tab sulked. “You won't let me bring my books back here.”
Madeleine ignored this, and sat on the floor next to her daughter. She squeezed Tabitha on the knee.
“Look, Tab,” she said, trying to sound cheery. “It's a book of fairytales. Your favourite.”
Tabitha reached over her mother to look at the book.
“There aren't any pictures,” she said dubiously.
“That's because this is a grown-up book, Tab,” Madeleine said. “You're grown up enough to read grown-up books, aren't you? Like your Mama?”
Tabitha looked at her critically. “I'm only six, Mama.”
But she couldn't hide her pleasure that her mother wanted her to read the same books that she was reading, and the two of them settled down together. And for a while Madeleine felt relieved. But, slowly, as she read, she became aware that Tabitha was bored. She was trying to please her mother now, to prove that she was indeed grown up enough for this book, and so she didn't say anything. But she was shifting about against Madeleine's side, fidgeting in a way that she never usually did when she was absorbed in a story. Her attention was wandering. She plaited the frayed edges of Madeleine's shawl, wriggled about, changed the position she was sitting in every few minutes. She stared vacantly out of the window to where the sun was shining outside and the splash of boats could be heard over the river.
Madeleine began to feel panicky again. The Compendium wouldn't hold Tab's attention forever, and even if she was stubborn enough to read the book the whole way through, eventually they would come to the end. At some point Tab was going to want to go back to the library. And that would involve taking her daughter out of the house, away from the village. They would be alone in the ruins of the university, with no one to protect them if the Iron Court came for them. Not that the village would be much defence in that eventuality – and at that thought, Madeleine's stomach turned. What if, by remaining in the house, she eventually drew the Iron Court here? To where her family actually lived?
Madeleine's voice shook as she read now, and Tabitha looked at her mother nervously. Madeleine cleared her throat, and made her voice steady again. But her mind was reeling. What could she do? Perhaps she ought to leave – perhaps her family wasn't safe with her there. But how could she leave her darling Tabitha?
9
CHAPTER NINE
The light was low-slung across the sky, casting long shadows out across the water. They trooped along the bank in silence, walking upriver to where Ondine lived in a tiny wooden shack on her own. She had invited them all to eat with her that evening, and Fraser had been adamant that they must all go; Madeleine had been avoiding his mother for long enough. Tabitha was subdued, clutching at Fraser's hand and shooting nervous glances between her parents. Madeleine pretended not to notice.
It would have caused too many problems to refuse outright a visit to Ondine's, but Madeleine was still irritated that she had been unable to think up a new excuse in order to avoid going. It had been difficult enough arguing with Fraser and trying to console Tabitha. Ondine's proclivity for prying and unsurpassed stubbornness would be too much on top of it if she so much as suspected that something was wrong with Madeleine. Not that there was anything wrong, Madeleine told herself. She was just making sure she took the necessary precautions to keep her family safe.
They reached Ondine's, who was sitting outside the front of the house creating some sort of complicated woven material, which she was knitting together using her fingers.
“Lovely evening,” Ondine said pleasantly, and gestured to where three other wooden chairs had been set out.
Madeleine's palms began to sweat at the thought that they might be sat out in the open all evening, where anyone could see them. But she sat down as instructed and didn't say a word. Tabitha darted away from Fraser to smother her grandmother in kisses.
“It's nothing much special to eat,” Ondine said, not pausing with her knitting, “but since it's such a nice evening and so pleasant to eat anything outside, I thought you might not notice if we ate out here.”
“It's a bit cold,” Madeleine said, rubbing at her arms.
“Mama,” Tab said scornfully. “It's so warm! You were just saying earlier how warm it is today!”
“Well the temperature must have dropped,” Madeleine snapped, and then immediately felt guilty for the confused, hurt look that flashed across Tabitha's face. Madeleine had never used to snap at her; Tabitha didn't know what she had done to warrant this recent spate of scoldings from her mother.
“I'm sure what your Mama means is that she's just feeling the cold a bit more than you are this evening, Tabitha,” Ondine said, giving her a reassuring wink. Madeleine nodded weakly in agreement, but she felt Ondine's eyes settle on her appraisingly.
“I've been feeling a little out of sorts recently,” she forced out. “But you're right, Tab darling, it's not that bad really.”
Tab still looked wounded, and scrabbled up onto Fraser's lap. Madeleine looked over at her partner, and then immediately wished she hadn't. She could see the despair wri
tten across his face, the sense of hopelessness he felt regarding the woman he hardly seemed to recognise at the moment. Her hand automatically went to her throat, the stone a sort of reassurance to her, and then she quickly lowered it again as she felt Ondine's keen eyes taking everything in.
“Well, I'm sure we're all hungry,” Ondine said, and she set down her knitting at last, “and that makes the best-natured of us lose our tempers. Perhaps we'll eat now, and chat later.”
She eased herself onto her feet, groaning at the ache in her limbs.
“Tabitha, aren't you going to help an old lady fetch dinner?”
Tabitha hurried off Fraser's lap again and rushed to help her grandmother, taking hold of her hand and chattering loudly to her about what they were going to eat. Ondine nodded seriously at whatever she said, herding her into the house to help fetch dinner.
“You need to stop snapping at her, Maude,” Fraser said quietly when they had gone indoors.
Madeleine didn't reply. Fraser was right, of course. But how to explain everything that was racing around her mind?
Tabitha raced back outside with a bowl of hot potatoes and a slab of butter before zipping back into the house at Ondine's bark for her to hurry up. Grandmother and granddaughter returned with trays of roasted fish and fruit and tomatoes. Madeleine's stomach grumbled loudly at the smell – for in spite of Ondine's comments, she was good with her seasoning and the food would be delicious – and somehow that seemed to ease some of the tension in the air. Tabitha giggled, and Madeleine gave her a wide grin.
“I'm looking forward to this,” she said, relaxing a little.
The Hagstone Page 4
