‘News from the palace: the king may finally have found a suitor for his daughter,’ Roger announced.
The hounds in their kennels were driven wild by the sound of us and were brought out, teeming and panting around the horses’ legs.
‘Who is it?’
‘Friedrich the Fifth, Count Palatine of the Rhine. He will come to England later in the year and hopefully put an end to the parade of jesters trying for the princess’s hand.’
‘Will you go to the wedding?’ I asked.
‘I hope to. It will be the grandest the kingdom has seen in many years.’
‘I wonder what sort of gown she will wear,’ I thought aloud.
Roger didn’t hear me over the barking hounds, and he and Richard moved out of the yard to begin the hunt. With the hounds on leashes I realised the quarry would be hart, and I wished I had asked before. A hart at bay was not a friendly sight, with its antlers slashing and eyes rolling; I would have preferred almost anything else. I thought about turning around, but we were already in the forest so I kicked my horse onwards. Edmund the apprentice acted as whip, riding alongside the dogs. As we went through the trees I heard snatches of their furtive conversation and rode silently behind them, half-listening. An image from the day before came to me: spilt blood, glassy eyes and the strange golden-haired woman.
‘Richard,’ I interrupted. ‘There was a trespasser on our land yesterday.’
‘What? Where?’
‘Somewhere south of the house, in the woods.’
‘Why did James not tell me?’
‘Because I did not tell him.’
‘You saw him? What were you doing?’
‘I … went out walking.’
‘I told you not to go out alone; you might have got lost or tripped and … hurt yourself.’
Roger was listening.
‘I am fine, Richard. And it was not a man but a woman.’
‘What was she doing? Was she lost?’
That’s when I realised I could not tell him about the rabbits, because I had no words for what I’d seen.
‘Yes,’ I said eventually.
Roger was amused. ‘You do have a wild imagination, Fleetwood. You had us thinking you were attacked by a savage in the woods when really a woman had only got lost?’
‘Yes,’ I replied faintly.
‘Although now even that isn’t without harm – you may have heard of what happened to John Law the pedlar at Colne?’
‘I have not.’
‘Roger, you don’t need to frighten her with tales of witchcraft – she already has nightmares.’
My mouth fell open and my face grew scarlet. That was the first time Richard had told anyone about The Nightmare, and I would never have believed it of him. But he continued ahead, the feather in his hat trembling.
‘Tell me, Roger.’
‘A woman travelling alone is not always as innocent as she seems, as John Law found out and will never forget as long as he lives – and that might not be long, Lord have mercy.’ Roger settled back in his saddle. ‘Two days ago his son Abraham came to me at Read Hall.’
‘Should I know him?’
‘No, because he is a cloth dyer from Halifax. The lad has done well for himself, considering his father’s trade.’
‘And he found a witch?’
‘No, listen.’
I sighed and wished I hadn’t come, wished I was sitting in the parlour with my dog.
‘John was travelling on the woolpack trail at Colnefield when he came across a young girl. A beggar, he thought. She asked him to give her some pins, and when he said he would not – he paused for effect – ‘she cursed him. He turned his back and next thing, heard her speaking softly behind him, as though she was talking to someone. It sent a shiver up his spine. He thought at first it was the wind, but he looked back, and her dark eyes were fixed on him, and her lips were moving. He hurried away, and not thirty yards on, he heard running feet, and then a great thing like a black dog began attacking him, biting him all over, and he fell to the ground.’
‘A thing like a black dog?’ Richard asked. ‘You said earlier it was a black dog.’
Roger ignored him. ‘He held his hands to his face and begged for mercy, and when he opened his eyes the dog had disappeared. Gone. And the strange girl with it. Someone found him on the path and helped him to a nearby inn, but he could barely move a limb. Nor could he speak. One of his eyes stayed shut to the world, and his face was all fallen down on one side. He stayed at the inn, but the next morning the young girl appeared again, bold as brass, and begged his forgiveness. She claims she wasn’t in control of her craft, but that she did curse him.’
‘She admitted to it?’ I remembered the girl from yesterday. ‘What did she look like?’
‘Like a witch. Very thin and rough-looking, with black hair and a sullen face. My mother says never trust someone with black hair because they usually have a black soul to match.’
‘I have black hair.’
‘Do you want to hear my story?’
My mother used to threaten to sew my mouth as a child. She and Roger’s mother would have plenty to discuss.
‘I am sorry,’ I said. ‘Is the man well now?’
‘No, and he may never be again,’ Roger said gravely. ‘That is worrying in itself, but there is something that troubles me more: the dog. While it is free to roam Pendle, no one is safe.’
Richard flashed me an amused, sceptical look before tearing ahead to keep up with the hunt. The thought of the animal did not frighten me – after all, I had a mastiff the size of a mule. But before I could point that out, Roger began again.
‘At the inn, a few nights after it happened, John Law woke to the sound of something breathing over him. The great beast was stood over his bed, the size of a wolf, with bared teeth and fiery eyes. He knew it to be a spirit; it was not of this earth. You can understand his terror: a man who is unable to move or speak, save for groaning out. Then who should be there by his bed in its place not a moment later, but the witch herself.’
I felt as though my skin had been brushed with a feather.
‘So it turned into the woman?’
‘No, Fleetwood have you knowledge of familiar spirits?’ I shook my head. ‘Then I will direct you to the book of Leviticus. In short, it’s the Devil in disguise. An instrument, if you will, to enlarge his kingdom. This girl’s is a dog, but they can appear as anything: an animal, a child. It appears to her when she needs it to do her bidding, and last week she told it to lame John Law. A familiar is the surest sign of a witch.’
‘And you have seen it?’
‘Of course not. A creature of the Devil is hardly likely to appear to a God-fearing man. Only those of questionable belief might sense its presence. Low morals are its breeding ground.’
‘But John Law saw it; you said he was a good man.’
Roger waved me off, impatient. ‘We have lost Richard; he will not be happy with me for tongue-wagging with his wife. This is what happens when women come on hunts.’
I did not point out that it was me indulging him – if Roger had a story, he wanted it heard. We set off at a canter, and slowed down again when the hunt came back into view. We were a long way from Gawthorpe, and now I was here I was not in favour of the thought of a full afternoon’s riding.
‘Where is the girl now?’ I asked as we fell behind again.
Roger adjusted his grip on the reins. ‘Her name is Alizon Device. She is in my custody at Read Hall.’
‘In your house? Why did you not put her in the gaol at Lancaster?’
‘She is not dangerous where she is. There is nothing she can do – she would not dare. Besides, she is helping me with some other enquiries.’
‘What kind of enquiries?’
‘My, my, you are full of questions, Mistress Shuttleworth. Must we talk the quarry to death? Alizon Device is from a family of witches; she told me so herself. Her mother, her grandmother, even her brother all practise magic and sorcery, no more
than a few miles from here. They are also accusing their neighbours of murder by witchcraft, one of whom lives on Shuttleworth land. Which is why I thought your husband over there ought to know about it.’
He indicated his head at the expanse of greenery before us. Edmund, Richard and the hounds were again nowhere to be seen.
‘But how do you know she is telling the truth? Why would she betray her family? She must know what it means to be a witch – it’s certain death.’
‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ Roger said simply, although I detected something beneath his words. He could be forceful and bullying when he wanted; I had seen it with his wife, Katherine, who was a tolerant sort of woman. ‘And the murders she claimed her family are responsible for all happened.’
‘They have murdered?’
‘Several times. You would not want to cross a Device. Do not fear, child. Alizon Device is safe in custody, and I am to question her family tomorrow or the next day. I shall have to notify the king, of course.’ He sighed, as though it was an impediment. ‘He will be pleased to know it, I’m sure.’
‘What if they escape – how will you find them?’
‘They’ll not escape. I have eyes all over Pendle – you know that. Not much gets past a high sheriff.’
‘Former high sheriff,’ I teased. ‘How many years has she? The girl with the dog?’
‘She does not know, but I would say she is seventeen or so.’
‘The same as me.’ After a moment of thoughtful silence, I spoke again. ‘Roger, do you trust Richard?’
He raised a bushy eyebrow. ‘With my life. Or what’s left of it – I am an old man now, with my family grown and the best days of my work behind me, most regrettably. Why do you ask?’
I’d tucked the doctor’s letter into my pocket, deep beneath my riding clothes, and it beat against my ribs like another heart.
‘No reason.’
CHAPTER 3
Lent was not yet over and though my appetite was poor, I longed for a cut of stewed beef or a strip of soft, salted chicken. Roger stayed for dinner and rubbed his hands together as the servants brought out silver platters of pike and sturgeon. I knew I wouldn’t touch any of it, even though I was hungry after the hunt, from which we had come back empty-handed as a chill mist descended. It pressed in now at the windows, and the dining chamber was cold. I broke my bread into pieces and sipped my wine, wondering when the time would come when I would be able to eat everything on my plate again. I hadn’t told any of the servants of my condition, including Sarah, who helped me to dress, but a cook is always the first to know. The other servants would have seen me hold my fingers out to Puck, offering him bits of things on my plate, but I had done that since he was young. My dog was growing fatter as I seemed to shrink. Richard once remarked that he ate better than most of Lancashire.
When I could take the sight of the fish heads no longer, I went to my chamber to lie down. At the top of the house it was quiet, away from the clatter of sauce dishes and knives, and the fire had been lit. Usually I would have drawn the drapes to help my headache but I felt too sick and tired, so I kicked off my slippers and lay down, staring out of the window with my hands on my stomach. There had been too much to think about this morning, but the doctor’s letter came back to me, clouding my mind like mist. I suppose in the end it came down to who would survive: would it be me, or the child, or both, or neither? If the doctor was to be believed – and no doubt he was – the baby was fattening like a conker in a spiked green shell, and eventually would split me open. An heir was what Richard wanted more than anything, and where I had failed before perhaps I would not this time … but at the cost of my own life? Women carried life and death in their stomachs when they conceived; it was a fact of our existence. To hope and pray I might not join the departed was as useful as wishing the grass blue.
‘Will you stay there and kill me?’ I asked, looking down at my belly. ‘Or will you let me live? Shall we try and live together?’
I must have fallen asleep because when I woke there was a jug of milk next to the bed. I reached over to dip in my littlest finger and lick it. My mother used to say the most beautiful girls had skin like fresh milk, plump and creamy. Next to it, mine looked like old parchment. I thought of the fuss Mother had made when Richard came to Barton for the first time with his uncle Lawrence; she wouldn’t settle, fluttering around me like a moth.
‘Show him your hands,’ she said. ‘Keep them folded.’
She didn’t need to say my face wasn’t my best feature – I knew that already. Still, none of it mattered, because we both knew my best feature was my name and the money it brought. Mother always said Father was tight-fisted, but when I asked why we lived in a draughty house and had to share a bedroom, she drew her lips into a thin line and said an old house was better than a new one.
The night of Richard’s coming, as mother and I got into our beds, she asked me if I liked him.
‘Does it matter?’ was my petulant reply.
‘It matters greatly to your happiness. You will spend every day of your life with him.’
He will save me from this miserable life, I thought. I could not like him more if I tried.
I thought of his pleasant, unlined face and light grey eyes. The beautiful jewellery he wore in his ears and the rings on his hands, one of which I would take so he could lead me to my new life.
‘Do you like the playhouse?’ he had asked me in my mother’s parlour.
His uncle and my mother stood at the window, talking and glancing over at us. I knew my mother had tilled the ground for this marriage, but if Richard refused, nothing could be done.
‘Yes,’ I lied, for I had never been.
‘Excellent. We shall go every year to London. That’s where the best ones are. Twice, if you wish.’
How could I not be charmed and delighted by this young man, who did not treat me like an infant as everybody else did? I thought of his face every waking hour and every dreaming one, too. The wedding date was set in the parish church, and I could not wait for every morning to arrive and the nightfall after it, because each one drew me closer. I thought about what sort of mistress I would be: kind and wise, for I wasn’t beautiful. A mother, one day, adored by her children and her husband. Whatever Richard wanted I would give him. His comfort would be my occupation, his happiness my life’s work. For he had bestowed the greatest gift on me: accepting me as his wife, and I would live out the rest of my days with gratitude. I heard my mother shifting in her bed.
‘Fleetwood,’ she said. ‘Are you listening? I asked if you liked Richard.’
‘I suppose he will do,’ I replied, and blew out my candle with a smile.
I rose awkwardly, my limbs stiff, and went into the long gallery at the front of the house to walk back and forth. To my surprise, Roger was there, examining the royal coat of arms above the fireplace, with his hands clasped behind his back.
‘Fear God, honour thy king, eschew evil and do good. Seek peace and ensue it.’ I recited the motif on the mantle from memory.
‘Very good, Fleetwood. Consider it a promise from your justice of the peace.’
‘Richard’s uncle Lawrence had that put in. I think he hoped King James would hear about it and not feel the need to visit.’
‘The Shuttleworths are loyal to the Crown, of course.’ There was an edge of warning in Roger’s tone.
‘Faithful as dogs.’
Roger was thoughtful. ‘Still, more demonstrations of loyalty need to be made in these parts. But how to make them?’
‘I think it is not so much lack of loyalty but confidence. Besides, he would surely avoid these areas, with their old ways of faith.’
‘This corner of the kingdom causes His Majesty a great deal of anxiety. A lot more could be done to honour thy king and eschew evil.’ He leant forwards and frowned. ‘I had not noticed the words around the king’s arms. What does it say?’
‘Honi soit qui mal y pense. “Shame on him who thinks evil of it.”’
He made a face, as though he was considering it.
‘Indeed. But thinks evil of what, Lawrence will never be able to tell us. Maybe I will ask the king himself.’
‘You’re at court soon?’
Roger nodded. ‘His Majesty requires all of Lancashire’s justices of the peace to make a record of every person who does not take communion at church.’
‘For what purpose?’
‘Oh, Fleetwood, you need not concern yourself with matters of the court, they hardly affect the life of a young gentlewoman. You do your duty and give your husband lots of little Shuttleworths, and I will do my duty in keeping Pendle safe.’ I must have looked displeased, because he looked more kindly on me, becoming genial. ‘Well, if you must know, His Majesty is still very … uneasy after the events at Parliament seven years ago. And you may have heard the whisperings about some of the traitors escaping to Lancashire. Something must be done to demonstrate the county’s loyalty to the Crown, because currently the king is very mistrustful of our little part of the north, and the lawless people within it. He thinks us a pack of animals, compared to the genteel lords and ladies of the south. We are very far from society here, and I think he is afraid. But do you know what else he is mistrustful of?’
I shook my head.
‘Witches.’
There was a gleam of triumph in his eye, and it took a moment for me to understand.
‘You mean Alizon Device?’
Roger nodded. ‘If I can convince the king that the people of Lancashire are under threat from the thing he hates most, his sympathies might extend to us, and he might grow less suspicious. If I am seen removing the bad seeds, if you will, the county may grow and prosper, and we may rejoin the kingdom with a new reputation.’
‘But Catholics and witches are not the same thing. There are plenty of the first here, but not the latter.’
‘More than you think,’ was Roger’s easy answer. ‘And the king sees them as the same thing, besides.’
The Familiars Page 2
