Blood and Clay (25 page)

I
felt my stomach and chest rise and fall as I took deep breaths of the musty
air. I felt the cold on my skin which brought me out goosebumps and made my
arms tingle at the hairs stood on end. I concentrated on my head and fingers to
see if I could feel my hair or fingernails growing. I couldn
’
t. I listened to the sounds of the
goal. The birds cawing outside of my window, an owl hooting and the far off
noises of the city, the noise of the other prisoners. I made pictures in my
head to go with the noises. Eventually I must have drifted to sleep because I
awoke later on and realised I had been asleep for a while. It was still dark
outside so, for the first time in my life, I really allowed myself to imagine a
different life. I had always held back in the past as it was too painful to
think of something I could never have but now I let my mind wander free.
Nothing could hurt me now and living a different life for the last few hours
before morning would be a relief.

I
imagined myself with a mother and father that loved me, no Gran, no brother but
one sister. A little sister just like Nettie, the Nettie I had known not the
Nettie that had come to be. We sat in a beautiful garden, flowers of every
colour and bright green grass. Butterflies and bumble bees floated in and out
of the flowerbeds and me and Nettie lay on the grass in big white dresses with
blue and pink ribbons in our hair. We played with a little white kitten and I
could hear church bells in the distance. Then our mother and father came into
the garden, smiling and beautiful like a pair of heavenly angels. They sat with
us and we ate the most delicious foods, bread, cheese, cold meats and berries.
My mother stroked my hair and crooned a song. I closed my eyes and listened to
Nettie laughing at something our father had just said. When I opened my eyes
the scene had changed. I was in the clearing with Gabe, my head on his knee.
The light glimmered around the outline of his head making him look like he had
a halo. He stroked my cheek and smiled. His eyes crinkled at the corners, he
looked older, much older. I reached up to stroke his cheek and my hand looked
older too. As I dropped my hand to my stomach I was surprised to feel a lump.
The lump squiggled under my hand and I realised it was my stomach. I gasped.
“
Is the baby moving again?
”
Asked Gabe. I smiled and closed my
eyes. I felt warm light on my eyelids and they shone gold which softened to
silver then a grey. A cold wind blew across my skin and I opened my eyes. I was
back in the cell and through the thin slit of window I could see the sun rising
slowly.

I
stretched and went to the window to watch what I could of the sunrise. I felt
calm now, and ready. Perhaps God would forgive me. I had always loved Him and
always tried to be good. Perhaps that was enough. I closed my eyes and prayed.
This time I didn
’
t pray to be saved; I prayed to go to Heaven and live the
life that I had imagined. To live it from the beginning and enjoy every moment.
To wait for Gabe and an eternity together in Heaven.
 
I was still praying when the Warden came to
get me and Mam.

“
Come on witches. Good day for a hanging eh?
”

The
Warden came into the cell with the shackles. Mam started sobbing and tearing at
her hair. She struggled and screamed as the Warden tried to put the shackles on
and in the end it took two of his men to hold her down. Once she was shackled
the Warden gave her a hard slap across the face and she started to whimper.
Then he looked at me. He looked wary, so did his men. They edged towards me but
they needn
’
t have feared. I held my wrists out to them to be shackled.
They kept shooting me nervous glances until I was held tight in the wrist and
ankle bindings then they stepped back and relaxed, chuckling and joking about
having been afraid of a young girl.

As
we left the cell the prisoners all stared at us. Their faces were ashen and
scared. What at, I couldn
’
t tell. Scared of us? Scared that they would face the same
fate? Whatever the reason it was through a crowd of silence that we were led to
the gaol door and to the staircases. This time we turned left after the first
two staircases and were led outside. Once there I saw a cart with high sides
and heavy iron rings running along the inside walls. Two rings were free and me
and Mam were tethered to them alongside the others in the cart. Chattox was
there and half her family. James was sat at the front of the cart and he was
gibbering like a fool. I
’
d never seen too much of him and he
’
d always been drunk when I did so it
surprised me that he was even more moonstruck when he was sober. There was no
violent streak there now, just a village idiot babbling away to himself.

The
cart set off and I was thrown to the floor. By the time I managed to get up
again the cart had come to the end of the drawbridge and entered the city. On
the cart some of the accused witches were howling and crying and some were
spitting curses. As the cart trundled through the city the crowds on either
side of the road grew thicker and the noises of street peddlers selling food
and drink grew louder. Soon other peddlers joined in selling things especially
for the day
’
s entertainment.

“
Crosses and Holy Water; protect yourself from the Devil
’
s whores.
”

“
Lavender pouches; keep the pestilence of the evil dead
away.
”

“
Rotten meat, rotten fruit; get a few shots in before the
witches hang.
”

Street
urchins squeezed through the crowds, sometimes getting a free gift from the
pedlars, sometimes a clip around the head. People leant out of windows; chamber
pots were emptied on us from upper windows. The crowd was merry. I tried to
block it out. I closed my eyes and concentrated on absorbing the last bit of
the world before I left it. I ignored the smells of the chamber pot slops and
tried to catch smells of stews, bread and lavender. I tried to ignore the noise
of the crowds and tune into the laughter of the few young children and the
noises of the birds and wind. I shivered as I enjoyed the sometimes cool
sometimes warm September breezes.

Suddenly
I was thrown forwards and landed in a heap with the others in the cart. The
noise of the crowds had softened and I looked around to find that we were in a
city square. In the middle stood a large wooden stage and on it a row of
nooses; four nooses, empty and swinging gently in the breeze. A few more of the
women in the cart started to make panicked sobbing and screeching noises. I
forced myself to look away from the gallows and looked towards the road we had
arrived on. I saw now why the sound had dropped. Far behind us men, dressed in
smart black dress coats, were holding back the crowds. Looking round the square
I saw a row of chairs and in each sat a gentleman or finely dressed woman. The
back of the cart was opened and we were un-tethered but left shackled. We were
all led to stand in front of the fine folk and Mr Nowell stood up from one of
the chairs then turned to face the fine folk.

“
Ladies and gentleman. Before you stand thirteen witches,
accused, gone to trial and found guilty of many terrible deeds. Today they will
hang but in your benevolence you have requested to free one of these witches to
go forth and spread the word that we will not tolerate the work of the Devil in
our good County. I ask you now to choose one of these wretched souls to be that
person.
”

I
looked up. There were a good twenty or so men and women facing us. Among them
were the man and woman who had taken Nettie away. Her new Mam and Dad. On the
woman
’
s knee sat Nettie, pretty today in a pink dress and cream
bonnet. My heart lifted as Nettie caught my eye and gave me a small smile, a
glimpse of the Nettie I knew. My Nettie.

The
men of the group gathered and discussed quietly which of us to release. They
kept shooting looks at us then going back to their conversation. Throughout the
whole time Nettie held my gaze with a sweet half smile on her face. After a few
moments the man who was Nettie
’
s new Dad came to her and whispered in her ear. She smiled
at him and kissed his cheek. He gave her a hug then returned to the group. Not
long after the men returned to their seats. Roger stood back up and turned to
face the group.

“
Have you chosen which to save? Who will be your messenger
to the rest of the Devil worshippers of this County?
”

A
man stood up. I noticed that his big, bushy beard seemed to wobble as he spoke
and it distracted me from his words. Then I forced myself to listen, ready to
hear my name and go to Nettie, maybe to my new Mam and Dad too.

“
We choose that one, the old one. She
’
ll not live long so she won
’
t pose our County no danger without
her coven. Her last few months of life can be spent spreading the news of our
charity and the folly of witchcraft.

I
felt like someone had crashed a heavy rock into my stomach as I realised they
were talking about Old Chattox. I looked at her as one of the Warden
’
s men led her away. Her face was
glowing with joy and there was still the look of malice that I had seen my
whole life in Gran
’
s face too. I looked back at Nettie and she smiled at me.
That sweet smile but this time with those cold, hard eyes that I had seen at
the trial.

Then
we were moving again and being pulled towards the stage. The first four people
in the line were hauled onto the stage. One of them was our James. Men held
them still as the hangman, tall, wide and dressed in black, slipped the nooses
around their necks. Then he kicked a lever and the middle of the stage dropped
away. The drop was short and James and the three other witches hung from the
nooses, twisting and kicking. Gargled, guttural noises came from their throats
as they clawed at the ropes and tried to make room in their crushed windpipes
for a few more gasps of air. After about five minutes the kicking stopped. The
bodies hung loose like lumps of meat.

A
cart was rolled underneath them then one of the men cut the ropes and let the
bodies fall heavily and noisily into a heap in the cart. The cart was pulled
away by an old, large horse then the rest of us were ushered to stand by the
stage. All was quiet apart from the trundling noise of the cart over the cobbled
stones and the whimpering of a few of the people next in line to be hanged. I
watched the gentlemen and women leave the square, all but Mr Nowell, Nettie and
her new Mam and Dad. Then the Warden
’
s men let the crowd in. The crowd
flooded forwards, a noisy rabble in a party mood. I looked for Gabe but he wasn
’
t in the crowd. Not here to save me,
not here to say goodbye. I knew what we had had been real and I loved him but
maybe he hadn
’
t felt it so passionately. Maybe he had felt it Justas much
as I had and couldn
’
t bear to watch me hang. All these maybes and I would never
find out the answers. All I could do was to hang on to the love I felt, the
love that filled my heart.

The
pedlars moved among the crowds, shouting their wares and children ran about the
knees of the crowds whooping and laughing. I looked to the stage and saw that
new nooses were now in place. The next four people were dragged onto the stage
and the nooses put around their necks. One woman tried to fight the men,
clawing and biting like a trapped animal, but she was hit hard on the head with
a stick and she slumped. A man held her upright as the hangman put the noose
around her neck. Then the stage dropped. Three of the witches dropped when the
lever was kicked but the fourth, the one who had struggled did not drop as far.
Her toes scrabbled to grip onto the side of the now gaping hole in the middle
of the stage. Every time the hangman kicked her feet away she managed to grab a
hold again with her toes. Finally the hangman grabbed her waist and yanked her
body down hard. From the side of the stage on which we stood I heard a
crunching noise as her neck broke. The hangman held on to her like a drunken
date and jigged her body around as if they were dancing. The crowd cheered and
laughed. They called things out to the hangman which made the crowd laugh even
more.

I
stood on the stage and stared at the crowd. Splinters were biting into my bare
feet. The crowd jeered and threw things at me and I flinched as a rotting lump
of meat hit my hip. I looked at the jeering, gaping faces of the crowd and saw
the Devil in every one of the faces staring at me. Hate showed in some eyes, in
others only joy and anticipation at the show which was playing out in front of
them. Each jeering mouth was filled with crooked, brown stubs of teeth, like
our own tombstones staring back at us but there would be no consecrated graves
for us. No tombstones for the witches.