The House Where It Happened

by Devlin, Martina

  “I hear there’s lascivious women on the island who like nothin’ better than to flaunt themselves and tempt men to sin,” he said. “Witches are known to provoke crude and unnatural desires. The Devil likes to set folk to fornication.”

  I was thoroughly alarmed now, but had no choice except to brazen it out. “I know nothin’ about fornicatin’, sir. I was brought up to prize chastity above all virtues in a woman.” I pushed aside all thoughts of my master, and what I had given away to him so readily.

  “And right glad I am to hear it. But word has reached me of a saucy lass by the name of Ruth Graham, who tempted a decent man to sin. I’ve a mind to see whether Satan was behind thon prank.” He watched me the way a kitling sizes up a wee mouse. “What I want from you are the names of any other lassies up to the same rutting. Excessive passions and uncontrolled mating are the hallmarks of a witch.”

  “Ruth’s run away. Nobody knows where she is, sir.”

  Constable Blan came closer. He was maybes an inch or two shorter than me, but it felt as if he was looming over me. “Appearances are deceptive. Witches come in all shapes and sizes, and some of them are a toothsome package. The Devil looks after his own. Them women need to be stopped in their tracks, before they go corrupting other men. Do you deny it?” I shook my head. “Good. The Mayor has issued a general warrant for the arrest of all suspect persons, and I’m intent on fulfilling my duties, should it take the last drop of my sweat. Oh aye. He’ll not find Brice Blan wanting.” His eyes glittered. “Now, think about this, Ellen Hill, afore you answer. Witches are damned. Anybody harbouring a witch is damned, too. There can be no forgiveness. No mercy. And no escape. So, are you for us or agin us? And if you be for us – you need to prove it. Well? Which is it to be?”

  My armpits were drenched with sweat, and I knowed my face had to be shiny with it. Rattled though I was, I managed to buy a little time. “Could you give me a moment to collect my thoughts, sir? Maybes if I can just sit down, and bring to mind all the women I know, I might be fit to think whether they’ve ever done anything to raise doubts in my mind.”

  “Very well. Make sure you think hard. I’ll return in a few minutes.”

  As soon as he left, I dashed into the pantry and poured myself a measure from the bottle of my master’s brandy I had stolen, back when my monthlies were late. I kept the remains in a drawer there, hidden among a jumble of fishing twine and oddments. I swallowed back a long gulp, and considered a second helping, but held off to keep a clear head.

  For all I knowed, I could be named as a witch myself. I thought of the potion I took when my monthlies were late, and tears started in my eyes. Was brewing that up enough to condemn me? I was guilty of plenty, even if it wasn’t witchcraft. Sniffing, I rubbed a sleeve against the dampness on my face, but my fears were not so easily wiped away.

  Maybes I was fuddled from the drink, or maybes I was more shaken than I realized. When I went to set the beaker down, I missed the shelf and it smashed into pieces at my feet. As I bent over, I saw it was the dead mistress’s favourite beaker, the one she used to drink her bedtime milk from every night.

  Hunkered down, the pieces in my hand, I asked myself what this beaker was even doing in the larder. It was kept in the dining room with the good china. I must have dawdled there looking at it, thinking all sorts of dark thoughts about messages from beyond the grave, because the next thing I knowed, Constable Blan was back in the kitchen.

  “Now then, enough shilly-shallying: I want names.”

  Chapter 12

  I was in a panic, and as sure as eggs is eggs the Constable would have tricked names out of me – innocent or guilty – if a brace of my master’s greyhounds hadn’t come yelping and pawing at the door.

  Frazer Bell followed after, whistling. “Any chance of a bone for these boys?”

  He caught sight of the Constable and the two of them looked each other over – not in a friendly fashion, either.

  “Is there some service you require of the Haltridges’ maid?” asked Frazer.

  “I was just having a few words with her, before going about the Mayor’s business.”

  “Important business, indeed. We mustn’t detain you.” And he stood aside from the door and extended his arm, as if to be gentlemanly, when it was plain he was telling Constable Blan to clear off. Not that he had any authority to do it. I doubt if even my master could have kicked him out.

  The Constable threw me a crabbit look and threw Frazer Bell an even crosser one, but out he tramped.

  “What did he want of you?”

  “To name any I thought might be witches.”

  “And did you?”

  “No, sir. I’m a good girl, I have no truck with witches.”

  “Of course not.” He looked thoughtful. “A lie can be more powerful than the truth. Especially where people are ready to believe the worst of each other.”

  “I swear on the life of every member of my family, sir, I tould him nothin’ but the truth. I have’n been within an ass’s roar of a coven.”

  “Hush now, don’t get upset. How about that bone for the dogs?”

  * * *

  By now, there were seven women under lock and key in Carrickfergus gaol, four from Islandmagee and three from Carrickfergus, and a trial date was set. Once the seven were rounded up, Mary Dunbar experienced no more attacks, apart from one morning, shortly after breakfast, when she moaned about pains in her eyes. Metal spikes were being pressed into them, she said. Her eyes watered sore, and I bathed them to ease the stinging. When inquiries were made, it was discovered her complaints coincided with the hour the prisoners walked in the exercise yard.

  I noticed something new about the young lady at this time: an odour came off her. It was unusual in a young lady so dainty. The pong came through her skin, as if something was curdled inside her and seeping out.

  Frazer Bell still rode over to Knowehead House most days, and for the first time I spied some grey in that thick brown hair of his. I doubted if he had much heart for the poesy reading he used to delight in. Sometimes he looked bone weary. Yet duty or maybes just neighbourliness had him saddling up Lordship. He no longer seemed glad to be paying the visit, though he was always a welcome sight to us.

  He was no sooner in the parlour on this particular day, when I heard him correct the mistress, from where I sat darning in a corner, quiet as a mouse.

  “Did you not find Mister Sinclair’s sermon yesterday rousing, Frazer? I confess, I shivered when he said there was an invisible agent at work on Islandmagee.”

  “There’s an invisible agent at work here, all right, but it isn’t the Devil. Whatever the kirk says. They’ve bent the law round to their way of thinking, but that still doesn’t make it right.”

  “Hush, Frazer. You mustn’t say such things about the kirk. It’s dangerous.”

  While Frazer Bell was speaking to the mistress, he kept glancing at Mary Dunbar. You might almost have thought him a lover, unable to tear his eyes from his beloved. Except he had the anxiety of a lover, without the joy. She sat there, self-centred as a newborn, studying her lap and taking no part in their conversation.

  “Not a single one of the accused has confessed to being a witch,” said Frazer. “Mister Sinclair is visiting them daily, along with four or five other clergymen, trying to make them acknowledge their crimes. He exhorts them to throw off their infernal master and abase themselves at God’s feet. But none follow his advice. Mister Sinclair says it shows how hardened the prisoners are in sin. But it could also be that they have committed none.”

  Just then, I saw the young lady lift a pomander from a pocket and hold it to her nose. So she was conscious of a smell. Whether she recognized it as coming from her, I cannot say.

  “Are they being treated unkindly?” asked the mistress.

  “Do you mean tortured? I know they’ve been kept awake.”

  “That doesn’t sound so terrible.”

  “No? It’s called ‘waking the witch’. The prisoners are forced
to walk about at night, and kept from resting the following day in the hopes lack of sleep will melt their obstinacy. Mister Sinclair says it’s for their own good.”

  “He’s worried about their souls, Frazer. He explained it to us: without confession, there can be no true repentance. They need to admit their covenant with Satan if they are to be saved. Only then can he be driven from their bodies.”

  “But what if they struck no deal with the Devil? What if these women are innocent?”

  “Frazer, how do you explain the chimney pot that nearly flattened the Mayor? Or the injuries to my cousin? If these women are innocent, God will protect them.”

  “It’s not that simple.” Finally, he spoke directly to Mary Dunbar. “Mistress Mary, are there more witches? Or are we finished at seven?”

  She raised her face to his. “Mistress Anne is always at me. She’s the ringleader. She says we can lock up as many as we like, but she’ll recruit more witches to take their place. The coven can never be crushed. She told me the Mayor has a new horse, and if he doesn’t watch his step it’ll throw him. New horses are skittish.”

  “This can’t go on, Mistress Mary.”

  Her eyes strayed towards the window. “The swans are still on Larne Lough. I heard some of the elders talk about it – they don’t usually stay so long. I’d like to go outside and see them again, but Mistress Anne forbids me to leave this house. Swans are said to mate for life. Do you suppose that’s true, Mister Bell?”

  “What will it take to stop this?”

  “I should like to think it’s true. But it’s so hard to know what to believe. Once, I saw a pair courting. They kissed bills, and their necks made a heart shape.”

  “Perhaps the witches only have power over you because you believe they do. Why don’t you test it? Why not step outside and see the swans on the lough? Mistress Isabel and I will go with you.”

  “I’d give anything to watch them glide along – they look so stately. My father tasted swan flesh once at a banquet. He said it was tough, though it looked delicate. I cried when he told me. It’s a sin to eat them.”

  “Will I fetch your cloak, Mary?” Frazer’s voice was a caress. “Will you come to the lough? So many women are locked up now there can be nothing to stop you.”

  “Oh, if you knew how I long to see the swans. If I stand at the casement and listen, I fancy I can hear the throb of their wings in flight. There are four pairs, aren’t there? But I daren’t risk it. Mistress Anne will punish me. She says she’ll flay me till the flesh peels away from my body like apple skin, the way Pontius Pilate had Christ Jesus scourged.”

  “If this Mistress Anne is found, will she be the last? Will it stop there?”

  She spread her hands wide in a helpless gesture. “I’d like Mistress Anne to be put in gaol. Then perhaps I can see the swans again. But she’s crafty.”

  “Mary, listen carefully to me. Does Mistress Anne exist? Or is she only someone you see in dreams?”

  She dropped the pomander, and it rolled off her lap, disappearing under her chair. Two red patches appeared on her cheeks. “It’s not my fault witches persecute me. Day in, day out, people come to gape at me. The Constable is always badgering me. And when it’s not him, it’s Mister Sinclair, or one of the other ministers. I just want to be left in peace. I’ve stood up to the witches. If you only knew the half of what they wanted me to do. But I said no. I’m always saying no to them.”

  “What have they wanted you to do, my dear?” asked the mistress.

  “I can’t repeat it. It’s lewd. They’re always at me, making coarse suggestions.” She speeded up, words tumbling out. “They’d have us all like beasts in the field, if they could. Sins of the flesh aren’t sins at all, they whisper – it’s only natural. You see how they pervert things? I cover my ears, but I can still hear them.”

  Frazer turned to the mistress. “Mistress Isabel, is there any reason for James’s delay? High time he was home. The trial is fast approaching – your husband should be by your side. I can’t imagine what might be keeping him.”

  “I thought he’d be with us by now. He promised to leave directly he appointed an agent to take care of business for him, but it’s taken longer than he expected – he says it was a struggle to find anybody reliable. But he has written to say a man has been hired at last. I watch for him daily.”

  A bleat from Mary Dunbar drew the mistress to her.

  “Mary, dear, would you like a rest? Why not lie down for an hour before supper?”

  “I am a wee bit tired. My eyes are smarting again.”

  “Let me take you upstairs.”

  “Don’t leave your guest, Isabel. I can make my own way.”

  Frazer Bell sprang to open the door for Mary Dunbar. I expected to be sent to keep an eye on her, but I stayed as still as a statue, and the mistress didn’t order it.

  “Mistress Dunbar’s parents should also be made aware of the situation,” Frazer said, after he sat back down again. “I take it you’ve been in touch with them about your cousin’s delicate state of health?”

  “Oh Frazer, I haven’t mentioned anything about the bewitching. I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I simply told Aunt Dunbar that Mary has been feverish and imagining things. My aunt said she would like to come and see her, but there is scarlet fever in Armagh and she cannot risk infecting us.”

  Shock was carved on his face. “Mistress, you must write and tell them everything as a matter of urgency. They’ll hear about it soon enough – it’s the talk of the county. And what if your cousin has seen witches before? What if she’s made accusations in the past?”

  “Surely we’d have heard.”

  “Not necessarily. Not unless your aunt chose to tell you. She may have wished to keep it quiet for reasons of discretion. We must assume nothing.”

  “Witchcraft is the only explanation. You can’t think Mary is making this up, Frazer. You witnessed her convulsions. You know how she’s suffering.”

  “Seven women lie in Carrickfergus and an eighth will surely join them. I don’t know if any of the prisoners are witches. But I do know Mistress Mary Dunbar has sown suspicion, distrust and alarm in Islandmagee. It’s tearing us apart.” He gave a laugh that was closer to a bark. “Scarlet fever in Armagh and witchfever in Knowehead. Which has the better bargain, I wonder? And there’s no looking to Mister Sinclair and his breed to bring healing. It suits them to have us going about in fear of witches. Their meeting-houses and chapels have never been fuller.”

  “Frazer, what you say is cynical, if not downright ungodly.”

  “I’m only telling you what James would, if he was here. I can’t say if there’s a coven. I can’t say if women have pledged their souls to the Devil. But I have eyes to see other things. Dread has been drummed up among folk of every rank on the island: it’s all anybody talks about. We need to make an end of this. If a witch trial is the way, so be it. But in God’s name, let it stop at eight women.” He lowered his voice. “The girl is dangerous. She points her finger, and a woman is brought in and falls to her knees. She points it again, and she’s locked up. This is a young person of eighteen years, remember. It’s bound to go to her head.”

  “Frazer, I can’t believe Mary would do this deliberately. What possible reason could she have?”

  “For attention. To feel important. Because she’s deluded. I don’t know. But I do know I have lived all my life on Islandmagee, and I can’t believe evil walks here.”

  “Evil walks where it wills.”

  “Not evil on the scale Mary Dunbar suggests. Not on my island.”

  “Mister Sinclair seems convinced of it.”

  “What does he know about the folk who live here? Those who go looking for wickedness generally find it.”

  “Come now, Frazer, you’re being unfair on the minister. He didn’t seek out these disturbances at Knowehead. We sent for him, don’t forget. The poor man is worn to a shadow trying to help us.’

  “Maybe I do him a disservice. But I wish t
o God your husband was home. We need someone sensible near-hand.”

  “You’re a true friend, Frazer. To be honest, I once thought we might have you for a relative, as well.”

  “How so, mistress?”

  “You seemed beguiled of my cousin when you first met her.”

  “She had a glow.”

  “And now?”

  He looked away. “I’m a crusty old bachelor. I don’t know how to behave with women.”

  “You behave impeccably with me.”

  “Ah, but you –”

  “Don’t count?”

  “On the contrary. Most assuredly, you count. You are a pearl among women, Mistress Haltridge. The truth is, I’ve grown too accustomed to living alone. Well, I’ve said my piece and I’ll say no more. I trust the next time I see you, it will be with your husband by your side.”