The Vanishing Witch (42 page)

Royse sat on the floor with her back to the rough wall, staring blankly ahead. She gave no sign that she was aware her father had come in.

‘God’s bones, what’s happened here?’

She didn’t move or look at him.

He bent down and grabbed her shoulder. ‘Answer me, lass.
Who did this?’

Royse scrambled to her feet, tears glinting in her eyes. ‘I did it! It’s all my fault. That’s what Mam thinks, and Hankin and you. The goats are gone, Mam’s goats. You should have let them talk to me. You shouldn’t have sent me away. You all blame me!’

Gunter put out a hand to try to calm her. ‘Royse? What—’

But she pushed him away and darted outside. Gunter blundered after her,
but she was racing along the riverbank as if she was trying to outrun her own shadow.

Gunter caught Nonie by the arms, forcing her to stop washing, and dragged her to her feet. ‘Did someone attack the cottage? Have we been robbed? What’s happened?’ He shook her. ‘Nonie, for God’s sake, tell me!’

She pulled stiffly out of his grasp and gazed across in the direction of Lincoln, its sumptuous cathedral
and castle towering high above them on the hill. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was as flat as the fens.

‘King’s men came for the poll money we owed. Said people in Essex had refused to pay so they’d been told to collect ours before we had a chance to do the same. King needs the money, they said.’

‘But I told them I’d pay. I just needed time,’ Gunter said.

But Nonie was still talking as
if to someone only she could see. ‘Said they’d instructions to take goods to the value of what we owe and more for the fine for not paying on time.’

Gunter groaned. ‘But they’ve taken everything. It’s worth far more than we owed.’

‘Had to, they said. They have to sell it to get the money and they said what we had wouldn’t fetch much, too old and battered. And with other cottagers having their
things seized, there’d be so much to sell, our bits would be worth even less. They’d been told to leave just what we needed to live, that’s all . . . That’s all we need, they said, a pot to cook in and a place to sleep, that’s all we need . . . The lantern, they took the lantern. How am I going to bring you home? How . . .’ She started to sob.

Gunter slammed his fist into his palm. ‘Filthy, miserable
cowards! They knew all the men would be away at work and there’d be only women at home who couldn’t fight them.’ His jaw was clenched so hard his teeth ached. ‘This is all the fault of that Essex man. Should have drowned the bastard when I had him on my punt. Should’ve made sure he never reached Lincoln alive. If they hadn’t got wind of the rebellion in Essex . . .’

‘If, Gunter,
if
!’ Nonie said
furiously, as the tears streamed down her face. ‘What’s the use of wishing? It doesn’t matter how hard we work, they can just take it away from us in a snap of their fingers. And we can’t do anything to stop them. What’s the use of even trying any more?’

Hankin’s face was contorted in fury and excitement. ‘That Essex man said there’s whole armies of people rising and chasing the commissioners
out of the villages. And I heard a man on the quayside say they were forcing the abbeys and the lords to give them money, else they’d burn and smash their houses. We should do that. We should do it to the sheriff. Burn his house down, see how he likes to lose everything.’

‘And get yourself hanged!’ Nonie shouted. ‘Don’t you think I’ve lost enough? You think Royse and Col want to stand there and
watch their brother strangling on the end of a rope? You really think that’s going to help us, do you?’

‘They’re not hanging them in Essex,’ Hankin said sullenly. ‘Nor in Kent neither. The man said so. He says no one can stop them. Maybe everyone in England is rising and refusing to pay the poll.’

‘Not here, they’re not,’ Nonie said bitterly.

‘Only ’cause they don’t know who’d stand with them,’
Hankin said. ‘But if someone went to find the men who are rising and brought ’em back here, if there was a great army of them came to Lincoln, everyone here’d join in. I know they would. I’ve heard them talking on the quayside about how they hate the poll.’ Hankin turned eagerly to Gunter. ‘We could go, Faayther, you and me. We could find them and tell them to march on Lincoln to help us.’

Nonie
took the boy by the shoulders and shook him furiously. ‘Have you frog spawn for brains? Do you think for one moment I’m going to have my bairn joining some mob rampaging round the countryside, like the French army, burning, looting and God knows what else besides?’

Hankin tore himself out of his mother’s grasp, tears of fury in his eyes. ‘I’m not your bairn any more. I’m the one that has to work
to pay the taxes. I do a man’s work. And a man doesn’t let people walk into his home and take everything. A man doesn’t just give in and pay up ’cause someone’s threatened him. I’m not a coward like him!’ He pointed contemptuously at his father.

Nonie slapped his face with such a resounding crack that the starlings, settling to roost in the nearby trees, rose chattering in alarm.

‘You’ll never
be half the man your father is if you live for a thousand years. You think I don’t hear the rumours too? You think I don’t talk to the boatmen and their wives? You tell me that a real man wouldn’t sit there and let someone take his property. So what do you imagine the abbots and lords are going to do when the mob comes onto their lands? You think they’ll stand aside and watch someone burn their
houses? Sooner or later the King will send battle-hardened soldiers in and cut those villagers down in their hundreds. And those that get taken prisoner’ll be tried for treason, for that’s what rebellion is, treason. You think you’ll feel like a real man when you’re lying in front of a jeering crowd as they slice open your belly and draw out your guts and burn them in front of you while you scream
in agony?’

Hankin’s eyes blazed with a hatred Gunter had never seen in his son’s face before.

‘I’d rather die hanged, drawn and quartered ’cause at least then I would have tried to stop them, instead of spending the rest of my life hiding in a hole, like a rat afraid to come out because of the dogs.’

If anyone fears theft, let him scatter caraway seeds among those things of value and if a thief should try to steal them he shall be held in that place. Likewise, if a woman fears her husband may stray she should sew caraway seeds into his clothes, so that no other woman may steal him away from her.

I waited for him in the small chamber at the top of the tower, staring
down through the slits at the grey-green river crowded with boats. How many of them were carrying goods to and from Robert’s warehouse? The boatmen were too busy thumbing their noses at each other or trying to push their craft through impossibly narrow spaces to glance up to where I stood. I couldn’t bring myself to look through the slits on the opposite wall, from which I would be able to see
the street that led to the door of the tower. I was afraid I wouldn’t see him walking towards me. Afraid he wouldn’t come. I was always afraid that one day he wouldn’t come.

Even though Robert was on his way to London, we couldn’t meet in the house. Leonia had a habit of creeping round the place as silently as a cat. You’d think she was out and then turn to find her watching you from a corner
without any idea how long she’d been there. She was always as sweet and blithe as Sunday’s child whenever Robert was close by. But she was growing wilful, and increasingly I glimpsed that cunning smile on her face and the excitement in her eyes whenever Robert and I were together, as if she knew that, with a snap of her fingers, she could cause a chasm to open between us and all the fires of Hell
to come leaping out.

Do all mothers become afraid of their own daughters? It’s as if a maggot is buried deep within them, growing and changing by stealth, until finally it emerges, a flying hornet ready to sting. Suddenly that innocent child becomes a young woman who thinks she has the power to command the whole world and no one can stop her. But she would soon learn that the world was not so
easily broken to her will.

It was Diot who found me the tower and bribed the watchman for the key. It was rarely used, except to store kegs in the bottom. The upper room was bare, save for the sheepskins Diot had spread on the dusty boards. The chamber was squalid, but nothing compared to what it looked down upon. For the tower stood by the east wall of the city, right on the riverbank, overlooking
the city on one side and the midden they call Butwerk on the other. Diot knew it well. She went often to that cluster of hovels, though she thought I didn’t know she was sneaking out at night, or what she was doing. She was terrified I would discover her secret visits to those filthy old hags.

Diot would do anything I asked to be allowed to remain with me for she knew only too well the world
could be a cold, cruel place for a penniless old woman alone. And it was safer to keep her close. Simple women, like her, have a habit of babbling foolish things that can so easily lead them into trouble. I had to keep her from harm.

I heard the wooden stairs creak behind me and knew it was him. I felt the jolt of relief and exhilaration that always surged through me at his coming. I turned to
face the open trapdoor so that the light from the window would halo my hair. In sunlight my hair shone purple and iridescent as a starling’s wing, which he always loved.

His head emerged, then his shoulders. He scrambled through the gap and in two strides had clasped me about my waist, lifting me and whirling me round, before kissing me. As we pulled apart, his smile faded and he wrinkled his
nose.

‘We’ll have to find somewhere better than this,’ he complained, flicking the sheepskins on the dirty floor with the toe of his boot. ‘Isn’t it bad enough that your husband stinks of sheep? Do you want me to smell like one too?’ A mischievous grin flashed across his face. ‘Or does the smell excite you now?’

Delicately he plucked at the laces that fastened the front of my kirtle. I made
no attempt to help him, though I was desperate to tear off my clothes and his, and feel the warmth of his bare skin pressed to mine. But he liked to unwrap me himself, savouring and caressing each part of my body as he exposed it.

‘I want to lie you on sable. Roll you in white fur,’ he murmured, as he kissed my breasts.

I laughed. ‘I can’t very well ask Diot to smuggle the furs out of my husband’s
house and bring them here. I think even Robert would notice that.’ I ran my fingertip across his full, soft lips.

He kissed me again and we sank to our knees on the skins, our hands fervently caressing each other’s bodies, our mouths pressed to each other’s hot flesh. He, almost too impatient, dragged my shift over my head, then slid me naked onto the sheep’s wool. Before I could draw breath,
he was on top of me, pushing himself into me.

Afterwards, I watched him as he slept, his arm thrown back behind his head, his face beaded with sweat. A narrow shaft of sunlight sliced across his pale belly and across my breasts as if a single spear had impaled us both. I pressed my nose close to his neck, revelling in the smell of his skin.

The separation we endured between these secret meetings
only made me ache for him the more, as did the terror in me that he would become bored and find another woman to replace me. Maybe he already had and I was now the dalliance, not the love. But I’d know if he had: I’d see it in his eyes, feel it in his touch. Besides, no matter who he flirted with, he always came back to me. He could do no other. No more could I. There are some souls who are born
to be together. The same breath that created them bound them one to another at the dawn of the world. Even if they should be separated by an ocean, the chain that links them is so strong, sooner or later they will be drawn to one another, though every demon in Hell and angel in Heaven should strive to keep them apart.

Witches have the power to raise storms by whistling or shaking out their hair. Others do it by christening a dead cat, then tying parts of a human corpse to it before flinging it into the sea.

‘Off to the warehouse so early, Adam?’ Catlin called from the stairs.

The boy paused at the door leading to the stableyard, his hand on the latch, and looked up at her. His stepmother’s
dark hair hung loose down her back. She clutched her robe of russet fox fur tightly about her body. It was half slipping from one shoulder, and as she stepped down the last few steps, he caught a glimpse of her bare calf. He knew that under the fur she was naked and blushed as hard as he would have done had he seen her bare body, perhaps more so, for he felt guilty at even imagining it.

‘Have
you eaten?’

‘Bread and cheese . . . Tenney gave it to me,’ he added, as if she might accuse him of having stolen it.

‘Tenney.’ She repeated the name as if she was biting the letters off it. ‘You don’t need to go bothering him for food. That’s Diot’s job. Tomorrow I shall ask her to cook you some fish. A growing boy needs more than yesterday’s bread and cheese if he’s to do a full day’s work.
Your father would be proud of you, Adam, to know you’re working so hard in the business.’

Adam mumbled something incoherent and fled out into the early-morning sunshine. Why had she said that about his father? Was she trying to catch him out? Setting a trap? Did she know he hadn’t been going to the warehouse? He ran across the stableyard to the gate beyond, only stopping when he was in the street
outside. He stood in the shadow of the wall, where he knew he couldn’t be observed from the house.

Adam hadn’t gone to the warehouse once since Robert had left for London. When his father returned, he would shout at him, maybe even punish him, but that would not be today. Today Fulk would be waiting for him with his gibes and torments.

When any boy is faced with a choice of two things he fears,
he will always avoid the one that is most immediate. He hopes, even though life has taught him otherwise, that something will happen to save him from dealing with the other threat. I say
boy
, but we are all boys when it comes to dealing with our fears, however old we grow. Adam was no exception. As long as he didn’t have to face Fulk today, he could push the menacing shadow of his father’s wrath
from his mind.