The Vanishing Witch (55 page)

‘Some of the lay sisters’
robes,’ a woman answered. ‘They always take so long to dry. We fetched the linens in ages ago.’

Sister Ursula clapped her hands, as if we were small children. ‘Fetch them, fetch them quickly, or they will need washing again . . . Not you, Joan,’ she added hastily, as a wheezing woman struggled to stand on her swollen legs. ‘By the time you get outside, we’ll all be another year older.’

The rest
of us hurried out to the small garden where the heavy robes were stretched over lavender and rosemary bushes so that the oils from the plants scented them as they dried to keep away fleas and moths. The first drops of rain were already spattering us as we ran round, gathering up the garments. It had to be done with care. Snatch them from the bushes and they might snag or tear. The rain was falling
hard by the time we had reached the far side and the wind was gusting up the hill.

‘Go on in!’ I shouted. ‘I’ll bring these last ones.’

The others didn’t need to be told twice. Clutching their bundles, they scuttled for shelter. Hugging the washing to me, I ran to take shelter under an overhanging roof. The rain cascaded down. I mopped my wet face on one of the robes.

The grounds were deserted.
Everyone had rushed to take cover from the sudden downpour. Inside, I could hear the lay sisters slamming shutters and doors to prevent them banging in the strengthening wind.

I’d not planned it, but suddenly I saw my chance. Dropping the bundle of clothes, I struggled out of my wet gown and pulled on one of the coarse brown robes. Without giving myself time to think, I ran towards the gate.
At any moment, I expected to hear someone yelling at me to come back inside, but no one did. Even when I drew the bolt, I thought the sister who kept watch in the hut nearby would rush out. But the noise of the wind and rain must have covered the sound, and if she noticed someone slipping away, she wasn’t going to suffer a wetting to investigate. Lay sisters came and went freely on all kinds of errands,
and the nuns treated them as if they were cod-wits, so I reckon she thought me a lay sister who hadn’t sense enough to wait for the rain to ease.

As soon as I’d closed the gate behind me, I put my head down into the wind and ran till I was out of sight of the infirmary. The parish of St Mary Magdalene is inside the city walls, but they had built the infirmary outside, north of the walls, so that
the patients wouldn’t suffer the bad humours of the city’s stinking ditches – leastways that’s what the nuns said. But the lay sisters had told me it was because the people in Lincoln were afeared we might give them a contagion or infest their dreams with our madness.

I reached the shelter of some trees and stopped, trying to decide where to go. I had to reach Master Robert’s to warn him about
Leonia. But if the girl was there, she’d cast the evil eye on me again and curse me into a fit so they’d take me straight back to the infirmary. I wiped the icy rain from my face, as I thought of those nights spent locked in darkness and water, the eels swimming towards me out of my dreams. I’d die rather than go back. Although Lincoln was the only home I’d ever known, I had no choice but to leave
it.

But where could I go without money? Sister Ursula was right: without a position or family, I’d find myself begging on the streets. Tenney – he would surely help me. He’d not been to visit me or sent word since I’d been in the infirmary, but if he saw me, he’d not turn his back on me. I’d have to wait for him to leave the house and speak to him alone, convince him he had to warn Master Robert.
He’d not listened in the past, but he must now.

I couldn’t risk entering the city by any of the northern gates. If the nuns had discovered I was missing, those were the first they’d have watched. Better make my way around the side of the city and enter from the south. They’d not be expecting me to come that way.

The rain stopped as suddenly as it had started and the sun came blazing out, turning
the drops on the leaves into rainbows. The baked earth and wet vegetation steamed, smelling like a fresh-baked pie. Now that the rain had stopped, the nuns would venture out again and someone would trip over the robes I’d dropped. Sister Ursula would send the lay sisters to search the infirmary for me, even if only to make me wash them again. I cursed myself for not hiding them. With a frightened
glance over my shoulder, I hurried on as if the devil were snarling at my heels.

No one so much as glanced at me when I sidled in through the Stonebow gate. At least the guard there had not yet been alerted, but perhaps the nuns had gone straight to Master Robert’s house and were already waiting there to drag me back.

When I finally reached the familiar street, I hid in a neighbouring doorway
and watched, but all seemed quiet. The windows and shutters of Master Robert’s house were closed against the rain, but the courtyard door was open and the yard brush bobbed in and out, as someone pushed mud, dung and waves of water through the gate into the open gutters of the street outside. I edged a little closer and saw that Tenney was wielding the broom, trying to clear the courtyard after
the downpour.

I called to him softly, not knowing if Diot might be lurking in my kitchen. He peered round the gate, a puzzled expression on his face, looking even more bewildered when he saw a lay sister in brown robes beckoning to him. But he abandoned the broom and came hurrying over. ‘Sister, is there news of . . .’ His jaw fell as slack as that of a dead fish when he recognised me. ‘Beata!
I’m right glad to see you.’

His face broke into a beaming smile, and he came closer, his arms wide as if he was going to hug me. Then he let them drop, staring awkwardly at my robe. ‘Are you one of them now?’

‘Muttonhead! Can you imagine me on my knees in church every day? I dressed up like this to get away from them.’

He glanced anxiously up and down the street as he drew me into the shadow
of an archway. ‘I came as often as I could, but they said you were too ill to see anyone. I thought maybe it was me you didn’t want to see.’

I felt sick with anger and relief. So Tenney had come and I never knew. He was outside all those days when I thought he’d forgotten me and they’d never told me.

‘I’d have given my right arm to see your daft face,’ I said, gripping his great hand and felt
an answering squeeze. ‘But I’ve not much time. Soon as I’m missed, they’ll come looking for me. I have to get away, leave Lincoln. But I’d never rest easy knowing Master Robert’s in danger. I promised Mistress Edith I’d look out for him and Adam. I know you didn’t believe me afore, but you must believe me now, Tenney. That woman’s pure evil and that brat of hers is worse. They mean to harm Master
Robert, Adam too. Please, Tenney, I can’t risk speaking to the master. He’ll send me straight back to the Magdalenes. It’s you who’ll have to warn him.’

‘She’s right,’ a voice rasped behind me.

I spun round. A man was standing at my elbow, his dark eyes burning into mine. I almost fled, but Tenney grasped my arm. ‘That’s Godwin, the man hunting Widow Catlin.’

The man’s gaze darted to Tenney,
then back to me. ‘Tenney told me what they did to you and, believe me, you were fortunate to escape so lightly. Your master and his son will not be so lucky. Those fiends will act soon and there is little time left to stop them. Mother and daughter are building their traps, and when they’re set, neither father nor son will escape them. I’ve tried to warn your master and the boy, but I can’t get
near either of them. Beata, try to convince this husband of yours he must speak out, now, today.’

Godwin’s voice was as harsh as the raven’s cry and made me shudder to hear it, but when he spoke the word ‘husband’, it gave me a strange warm glow. I expected Tenney to set him straight, but he didn’t.

‘There’s neither of you needs to waste breath convincing me,’ Tenney said. ‘A family of demons
is what they are. And it’s not for want of trying—’

He broke off as we heard footsteps in the street. Two men-at-arms were splashing towards us through the puddles. Before I could blink, Godwin was scuttling down the street and had vanished from sight. I would have run too, had Tenney not gripped my wrist, holding me still. The two men stared at us curiously, as they passed by.

‘Now then,’ one
said cheerfully, ‘you keep your hands off her. I heard those nuns took a knife to a man’s prick for messing with one of their own. Wilder than a pack of mad dogs those sisters are when they’re riled.’ The men laughed and strolled on.

My guts twisted. ‘If those men learn I’m missing they’ll remember seeing me and come straight here.’

Tenney nodded grimly. ‘I’ve a cousin – you’ve heard me speak
of her, lives t’other side of Torksey. She’s a good soul, heart as large as her brood of bairns, and that’s saying something. I reckon she’d be glad of another woman around the place to help, though she’d not be able to pay you, save for meats and roof over your head. But I’ll give what coins I’ve saved to tide you over. I’ll find you a change of clothes too, case they’ve put a watch on the gate.
We’ll have to take the cart, for you can’t get even partway up the Foss Way with the river being so low.’

‘But you will speak to the master,’ I urged. ‘I’m so afeared for him and the boy.’

‘I swear it. I’ll tell him all I know, even if I have to knock the stubborn old goat on the head and tie him up to make him listen. But it must wait until I’ve got you safe out of the city, where those nuns
can’t find you.’

Drawing me behind him, he peered into the courtyard. ‘There’s no one around. Hide yourself in the kitchen. I’ll be as quick as I can.’

Afore I knew it, he’d crushed me to him and pressed his lips against mine in a loving kiss, half smothering me with his thick black beard. ‘I’ll be back, Beata.’

I stood there, stunned, for a moment, still feeling the heat of his lips tingling
on my mouth, the tickling of his beard against my cheek. Tenney had kissed me! After all these years he had finally kissed me. I think I’d be standing there still had he not shoved me inside the kitchen. The banging of the door as it shut jerked me out of my daze.

It was hot and dark in there. Only the dim ghost of daylight drifted in through the smoke vent behind the oven, and a hell-red glow
flickered across the walls from the flames of the cooking-fire. But I knew my own kitchen well enough to find the lantern that always hung from a nail near the door. I lit the candle from the fire. Fortunately, Diot could not move that, though it was more than I could say for the rest of my kitchen.

Nothing was where it should have been. Jars and boxes were on the wrong shelves. Spoons, ladles
and knives lay scattered about, as if Diot had merely dropped them, unwiped, where she’d last used them. Two live carp were gasping in a barrel of stagnant water, and feathers were spilling out of the overstuffed sack in which I collected the pluckings of the birds, for the lazy cat had not troubled to fetch a fresh one.

Afore I knew it, I was starting to tidy and rearrange my shelves. It was
a foolish thing to do for Diot would see at once someone had been into the kitchen, but I couldn’t help myself. I tried to stop, but I couldn’t bear to sit still. Fear of discovery and elation at Tenney’s kiss made me so agitated that if Sister Ursula had seen me then she might have been right to call me mad.

I heard a noise outside, the clatter of hoofs on the stones, the grinding of metal,
something rasping across the wooden door. My heart was thudding. Had they come for me from Magdalene’s? Were they searching for me? I crept back to the lantern, snuffed out the flame and crouched in the corner behind the table. I heard sounds at the back of the kitchen, a grating against the bricks behind the oven. I kept as still as I could, though my heart was thumping so loudly I was sure it was
echoing right across the courtyard. I tried to convince myself it was only a cat scrambling down from the roof. Strays often huddled up there to get the warmth on a cold day. Not that they needed it now. It was hot enough in that kitchen to roast a pig in ice.

The air was growing thicker and sweat was pouring off me. Tenney must come soon. Were they still searching? Was he trying to lead them
away? My eyes were watering and my throat was tickling and burning. I tried not to cough, but I couldn’t help it. I pressed the skirts of my robe to my face, trying to stifle the noise, but I was hacking my lungs out. All thoughts of keeping silent were forgotten as I blundered forward in a desperate search for something to drink. I found only a flask of vinegar, but still I sipped it, hoping it
would stop the cough. But it only made me gasp for breath.

Then I realised why I was choking. The small kitchen was filling with smoke. I stumbled across to the oven. I could see no light from the vents, nothing except black smoke rolling under the hood from the oven. Diot must have neglected to brush the vents clean of soot. I pulled the oven door open desperate for the light from the flames.
But even more smoke poured out into the room.

Blinded, my eyes streaming, I fell to my knees, crawling back across the floor. It could only have been a few paces, but I couldn’t find the door. My head hit wood and, for a moment, I thought I’d reached it, but it was only the leg of the table. I dragged myself round it, groping wildly. Suddenly I felt the stone of the wall. Then my fingers were
touching the rough boards of the door. I reached up, hauling myself to my feet, until I grasped the iron latch. Hanging on to it, I flung my weight against the door, but though the latch gave, the door opened no more than a crack. My lungs felt as if they’d been torn out. Smoke was in my head whirling round and round, obliterating every thought, except one.
Don’t let me die!
Tenney! Tenney! Help
me! Help me!

Then I heard a child’s voice singing, high and clear like an angel:
See little song-bird baked in the pie.

Cats bring the Great Pestilence, especially those that belong to witches. If a cat is suspected, it must be caught, killed and dried, then placed up a chimney to protect the house.

Tenney had harnessed the horse to the cart, then laid sacks and a few empty barrels in the back between which he could conceal Beata, should anyone come looking for her before they got clear of Lincoln.
It had not taken him long to retrieve the precious stash of coins he’d hidden beneath a loose flag behind the stables. Finding clothes for her was more difficult. After she’d been taken to the infirmary, the few garments she had left behind had been torn into rags by Diot, and nothing of Diot’s would have fitted Beata, for she’d always been half the woman’s girth and, since her stay in Magdalene’s,
was now even thinner.