The Vanishing Witch (38 page)

‘The hue and cry was raised, but there were no clues as to who’d killed her and no relatives to press for justice, so the search was abandoned. But at my father’s funeral, Pavia broke down sobbing, saying that as he lay mortally sick my father confessed to her that I’d raped and murdered
the girl. He’d discovered what I’d done and that was why he’d sent me to sea, so that he’d be spared the shame of having a son convicted of murder.

‘Aggy, bless her, didn’t believe a word of it, for she’d known me all my life, but who listens to an old woman? Everyone in the village suddenly remembered wondering at the time why a wealthy merchant should send his eldest son and heir to sea. To
them the explanation made perfect sense. They were convinced of my guilt.

‘Since everyone assumed I’d died in a French dungeon, there was nothing more the bailiff could do about it, save say that God had meted out His own justice. But if I were to turn up claiming to be Godwin, I’d be arrested for the girl’s murder with no way to prove otherwise. It would be my word against the deathbed confession
of my own father. Pavia was clever. She’d made quite certain that if, by some miracle, I survived, I could never go to the justices anywhere in England for I’d be a wolf’s head, an outlaw.

‘I had to track her down myself. I tried to stop her marriage to your master by scrawling a message on the banns nailed to the church door. And I warned Pavia her secret was discovered by leaving her own curse
on her marriage bed, the same one she had used to murder my poor father, the candles stuck with thorns.’

‘Hold up!’ Tenney said. ‘Then it was you who broke in and slashed the bed.’

‘To frighten her away.’

‘Beata swore there were candles and a bird’s skull left in the chamber, but Edward and Mistress Catlin denied it and Master Robert wouldn’t believe my poor lass.’

Godwin grasped Tenney’s
wrist fiercely. ‘But you must believe Beata and you must make your master believe before it’s too late. The woman you call Catlin is a witch, like her mother, only far more powerful, and her own daughter has learned from the pair of them. I’ve been watching her. That child is growing up to be as evil and ruthless as the dam, perhaps more so. Leonia is bewitching Adam, as her mother enchanted my father
and your master. And Leonia will destroy Adam, just as surely as her mother murdered my father. I beg you to believe that. The mother and daughter have fastened their talons around father and son and they will devour them both, unless you stop them.’

Sorcerers and witches are able to inflict the falling sickness on their victims by burying an egg in a grave with a corpse who was of one of their own kind. When the egg is dug up, it is concealed in the food or posset of the person they wish to harm, and charms are recited under the breath as the victim eats it. Then the falling sickness shall come upon them and they will be seized
by fits whenever the witch wills it.

‘But, Tenney, you’ll have to tell the master,’ Beata said. ‘You must find a way to get him alone, away from them.’ She peered out of the stables across the dark courtyard. The lights in the hall had been extinguished, but the glow of candles in the solar upstairs showed that the family had not yet retired to bed. ‘I knew there was something evil about
all three of those women. I told you, Tenney, but you wouldn’t have it, you stubborn old goat. “Master Robert needs a new wife to take his mind off his troubles,”’ Beata mimicked Tenney’s gruff tones. ‘Well, he’s more troubles than a chicken in a foxes’ den now. If you’d listened to me—’

‘Supposing I had,’ Tenney grumbled, ‘what difference would it have made? The master would’ve no more taken
notice then than he will now.’

Beata pounced. ‘Aye, but it’s different now. What this Godwin told you – that’s proof, that is. He’ll have to believe it.’

Tenney shook his great head. ‘Believe what? Some fanciful tale spun by an outlaw the master already thinks is out to rob or murder him? I don’t even think I believe it. And even if any of it’s true, we’ve only Godwin’s word that Catlin and
Pavia are one and the same. Remember your old aunt who kept thinking other women’s bairns were her own? She even came up to you in the marketplace when Master Jan was little, saying he was her babe stolen away from her. Swore blind she recognised him, even though you’d cut Master Jan’s cord with your own hands. No amount of telling her convinced her, though, did it? And if you’d seen what those French
did to that poor wretch of a man . . .’ Tenney shuddered. ‘No one’d be in his right mind after that.’

‘
I
believe Godwin,’ Beata said stubbornly. ‘I’ve seen what that little imp Leonia can do. Aye, and felt it too. And I can see how she’s witching young Adam. Haven’t you noticed the lad’s changing? He’s getting sly and spiteful.’

‘He’s growing up,’ Tenney said.

‘It’s more than that. I saw them
the other night after dark, here in the stables. I couldn’t see much of what they were up to, but they weren’t playing sweethearts, that’s for certain. She’d a bowl in front of her and a lit candle. Both of them were peering into it. They’d caught some creature or other. I couldn’t see what it was ’cause they were bent over with their backs to me. But I could hear the poor thing shrieking in pain.
It was enough to set your teeth on edge. Made me feel sick it did. I was in two minds whether or not to go in and demand to know what they were doing, but . . . I couldn’t seem to step inside. It was as if there was a solid door there. It fair gave me the shivers, I can tell you. I ran straight back to my bed. Lay awake half the night, as chilled as if a corpse were lying atop me.’

Tenney sighed.
‘If I go saying anything to him about his wife or Leonia, I’ll find myself turned out on the road, afore I can say, “Bless me.”’

‘If you won’t tell Master Robert,’ Beata said, ‘I will. I promised the mistress I’d watch out for her husband and her son and I’ll not break my word to a dying woman.’

Tenney groaned. When Beata took that stance, arms folded and lips pursed, not even an angel with
a flaming sword could turn her away from what she’d made up her mind to do.

A piercing scream split the darkness and Robert found himself staggering out of bed for the third time that night. Had Johan’s men broken in? His heart thudding, he stood listening until he heard Tenney’s voice calling up from below.

‘It’s only Beata again, Master Robert. Don’t you fret. I’ll see to her.’

Robert peered
down into the dark stableyard below. Tenney was making his way to the kitchen, a lantern swinging in his hand, sending shadows slithering up and down the courtyard wall. Robert slammed the shutter. It was a damnably hot night, and they needed every breeze they could capture to make sleep possible, but better they roast than listen to those shrieks. He crossed to the ambry where the food and drink
for the night had been left and poured himself a goblet of wine, drinking it in thirsty gulps. He knew it was foolish. He’d wake in a few hours with a sour stomach, but rather that than lie tossing and turning for the rest of the night.

He climbed back into bed next to Catlin, groaning as he tried to find a comfortable position in the sweat-soaked sheets.

‘You’ll have to dismiss her in the morning,’
Catlin murmured in the darkness.

‘She’s been with me for years,’ Robert said. ‘Can’t send her packing just because she has nightmares.’

‘No normal woman has nightmares like these. And have you forgotten that nonsense when she imagined she saw a skull and candles on our bed?’

‘Jan’s death has unsettled Beata, that’s all,’ Robert said.

But in truth he was beginning to worry that Beata was rather
more than
unsettled
. Only the other day, when Catlin had poured him some of his favourite spiced wine from the flask that was always kept for him on the chest in the hall, Beata had suddenly turned as white as whey, flown across the room and dashed the goblet from his hands. Before anyone could stop her, she was pouring the contents of the flask onto the floor, babbling about Catlin putting poison
in it. Poor Catlin had been forced to pull the flask from Beata’s hands and drink from it herself just to prove to her that the wine was untainted.

Suppose his wife was right after all and Beata had slashed the bed. Hadn’t she said her aunt had been mad? Such things tended to run in families. Robert wondered if it really was time to dismiss her, though he resented being told to do it.

‘And what
are we to say to the neighbours?’ Catlin said tersely. ‘I saw Mistress Ann peering through her casement earlier tonight as if she feared there was a demon in our courtyard. It will not help your business if the rumour spreads you’re employing a woman who’s possessed.’

‘I’ll deal with it,’ Robert snapped. ‘Don’t turn into a scold like Edith!’

He heard a sharp intake of breath as if he had slapped
her and was instantly remorseful. He reached for her hand in the darkness, stroking the back, marvelling, as he never ceased to do, at the delicate softness of her skin. ‘I’ll speak to Beata in the morning, my dear. Now please can we try to sleep while she’s quiet?’

Early-morning sunlight flooded through the casement, promising another cloudless day, which was more than could be said for the
mood of those gathered around the table in the hall for breakfast. Robert, Catlin and Edward had the puffy faces and dull eyes of those who had slept ill, while Tenney and Diot were as bad. Only Leonia looked as fresh as a rosebud. Nothing had troubled her sleep.

Robert gazed at his stepdaughter. A black curl swung against her soft cheek, iridescent in the sunlight. Was it his imagination or
had her breasts filled out a little in these past few weeks? Rounded little mounds peeped over the embroidered neckline of her dress. It was a credit to the child that, even at this hour, she had taken care to dress pleasingly, which was more than could be said for her mother.

Catlin was clad only in her dressing robe of russet fox fur, her legs flashing bare and white beneath it as she shifted
in her chair. It irritated Robert to see her so, especially with her son in the house. It was vulgar and unbecoming for a woman of her rank to be dining half naked in front of her son – her stepson too, come to that. He caught Catlin and Edward exchanging another of their knowing glances and felt disquieted, as if they were anticipating something of which he had no knowledge.

Robert dipped a
sop of bread into his ale and pushed it into his mouth. In truth, he was so weary he could barely face breakfast, but he hoped that food might rouse him a little. It had better, or he was likely to fall asleep where he sat.

The door opened and Beata entered, placing a dish of boiled herring on the table. Her hands were trembling, making the dish rattle against the wood as she set it down. Robert
did not much care for herring at any time, but today, with those white boiled fish eyes staring up at him, any vestige of appetite that might have been stirring was instantly quashed.

Catlin coughed pointedly, catching Robert’s eye. For a moment, he couldn’t think what she wanted. Then he remembered.

‘Beata?’

She flinched at the mention of her name and darted a frightened glance in his direction.
Robert was shocked to see the change in her. She was no beauty at the best of times. The pox had been cruel to her, leaving her with a deeply pitted face and drooping eyelids. But today she looked positively hag-ridden. Her face was pale, with dark smudges under her eyes – she might even have been punched. The memory of Edith floated into his head. Was Beata afflicted with the same sickness
as had taken her mistress? No, it was not the same, he could see, yet the rapid change in her perturbed him.

All the faces at the table had turned to him, waiting for him to speak, but he couldn’t bring himself to talk to her in front of them, when she was obviously so distressed.

‘Beata . . . I wanted a word with you. I’ll come to the kitchen presently.’

To his surprise, she seemed desperately
relieved. ‘Yes, I must speak with you, Master Robert. Please come soon.’ Lowering her gaze, she scuttled out.

Robert took a last swig of the ale and rose.

Catlin reached out to touch his hand. ‘You will tell her she must leave. I can’t stand another night of this and the children will be ill if they’re continually disturbed.’

‘The children are well enough, my dear. I wish I had their resilience.’
He pinched Leonia’s cheek, smiling tenderly, in spite of his tiredness. ‘In fact I would say our daughter is positively glowing with health. What is your secret, my dear? An innocent soul?’

Leonia giggled. ‘It’s because I always feel safe when you’re here, Père. Nothing disturbs me because I know you’ll protect me.’

She stood up beside Robert, throwing her arms around him, and arching her back
as she lifted her face to be kissed. From this angle, Robert observed that her breasts were definitely swelling into the sweetest little peaches he’d seen on a girl in a long time. She would need careful guarding. There were many lads and men out there who’d be only too eager to steal over the wall to pluck the fruit from such a tree and she was such an innocent.

When Robert pushed open the door
to the kitchen he found Beata sitting on a stool, rocking back and forth amid a chaos of unwashed pots and half-prepared food. She lifted her head only long enough to see who had entered, then lowered it again without meeting Robert’s gaze.

Robert had never hesitated to dismiss any man, young or old, if he wasn’t performing his work as well as he should, but dismissing a woman, and a woman who
had been part of his household for so long, that was different. He’d no idea how to begin this.

‘Beata . . . the nightmares . . . You wake the whole household repeatedly. It can’t continue. If it was simply a question of disturbed sleep, Hugo Bayus would be able to prescribe you a draught to help, but this is more—’

‘I don’t ever want to sleep again.’ Beata stared up at him, her reddened eyes
full of fear. ‘Each time I do it’s the same. I’m in the river, under the thick green water. I can’t reach the surface. Something has hold of my ankles, pulling me down. Then I see them swimming towards me. Long black eels with rows of teeth. I feel their fat slimy bodies twisting round me, pinning my arms so I can’t move. They’re strangling me. Eating me alive. Eels with human faces. Eels with Jan’s
face!’ She gave a great sob and buried her face in her hands.