44

20th October 1580

Two ells of taffety at nine shillings an ell eighteen shillings

Accounts of Banstock Manor, 1576–1582

I was resolved to get Agness away from the manor and its lands. Discussion with her brother informed me that she has an older sister in Southampton town, much afflicted with agues and four sickly children. There Agness’s talent for nursing the sick should be appreciated. Perhaps after a year or two she might return, after Isabeau has left and when Solomon and Viola are married. The Reverend Waldren spoke to her but she raged and fought with him, until he was forced to strike her. The next day she was fled from his house and he tells me, in much agitation, that he fears for her safety. No one at the manor has seen her, and Waldren fears that she might harm herself. I set men to watch for her on the manor lands as she is certain to return.

It seems a good time to take Viola from her duties reading to Lady Banstock, who lies almost insensible, and take her for a ride over the Island to visit the lawyer in Newport to consider her marriage settlement. We take the groom Elias Courtney, who carries a sturdy stick in case of brigands, but in honesty the Island roads have become safer since Her Majesty came to the throne.

Viola looks much more her old self since her father has allowed her to write letters to Seabourne, and he is permitted to reply. I have been tasked with reading them, but they are mostly stilted politenesses or their shared passion for science. Master Seabourne says he is planning to raise the demon to give him the clues he needs to make gold. God’s speed, I jest, since the rents this year are low and much of the harvest is poor. I allow such talk, since there is no such possibility. It gives them something to converse about.

Viola has taken to her sister’s horse, a fine grey, much more spirited than her old pony but her seat is secure. We get a few good canters on the roads that remain dry though the sky is clouded.

‘Come, Master Vincent,’ she cries, and sets spur to flank. Elias and I can keep up, but both of us are blowing hard when she pulls rein. Then I see what she sees. A group of men surround a woman, standing upon a bench outside the Hawk and Hare Inn beyond Arreton.

I hear her words, the familiar cracked stridence, before my old eyes make out her face.

‘Witchcraft at Banstock, and does Lord Anthonie prevent it? His own babe, dead in its mother’s womb, and they do not care that they harbour witches? They that give shelter to witches shall be condemned with them.’

I catch at Viola’s bridle and pull her alongside me.

‘Here come some of her followers,’ cries Agness. ‘They shelter and even pay her as she weaves vile spells at the old abbey and bewitches good men!’

I stand in the stirrups to shout over her ravings. ‘Mistress Waldren is unwell; her own brother seeks to send her away. She is gone a little mad.’

I can see from their faces that I have not convinced the men. Elias calls out to one of them. ‘James Trotter, you know me. Would I encourage witches? This is all women’s foolishness. A bit of milk sours and they call it spiteful fairies or witches.’

‘That’s as may be, Elias, but they say there are black masses and such up at the old abbey.’

‘A dead cat, no more, my master tells me. Probably caught by a fox,’ Elias adds, catching my eye. ‘There in’t no witchcraft on this side of the Island. I can’t speak for them folk in the West Wight.’ There is general laughter, but Agness has not finished.

‘How can you say that, Elias Courtney, when everyone knows that cat was tied to a cross and left on the altar,’ she shouts.

I am shocked that my suspicions are so easily confirmed. ‘Madam, only Master Seabourne, his servant and myself knew how that poor cat came to its end. And the wretch that killed it, of course.’

‘The smith’s boys told me.’ She spits at me, her eyes glaring. ‘You know that the only witch at Banstock is Isabeau Duchamp, a whore who has lain with the Devil and carries his child.’

The murmuring from the crowd tells me they have turned against us again. I dismount, stand among them. I have to shout to be heard. ‘That is not true, Agness Waldren. The woman lay with a mortal man in no more than lust, as well you know, since you spread the rumours all over Banstock!’

‘I don’t believe she was with Master Solomon, and I never will!’ she screeches at me in her strange voice. ‘He has eyes for only one!’ She touches her scrawny breast. ‘He has no need of a wife in the child Viola, nor a whore in the French witch.’

I am shocked. I cannot believe he has even spoken to Agness. ‘You are mad to think he has noticed you, woman.’

‘Will he deny it when I show him what spells seduced him?’ She jumps down from the bench and strides towards me. I am a tall man, but she can look me straight in the eye. ‘The French witch lies. She convinces you with her chants.’

I grasp her wrist, looking behind me for Viola, who is safe by Elias on her palfrey. ‘We must take you home. I think you have lost your senses.’

She wrenches her arm from my grip. ‘Let me go! You are as hag-mazed as the rest.’ With great strides, she runs across the yard and up the hill to the woods behind. She is fast, her long legs pulling her away beyond the reach of the road.

Viola rides forward a few steps, holding her horse’s bridle tight in one gloved hand. She speaks with a clear voice that silences the muttering men and the inn servants.

‘Hear me,’ she says. ‘That poor woman has been tormented by this madness for many weeks now. Her own brother, the rector of Banstock, has tried to contain her but she escaped. She is ill of some brain fever that makes her delirious. My father will grant a reward of a gold angel for any man who can bring her, unharmed, to Banstock Manor.’ She glances at me to make sure the sum is appropriate and I nod. I could probably have got the help for less, but ten shillings was just the incentive the men needed. I can see that Viola’s clothes, her voice and her natural tone of command impress them, and the few remaining caps come off.

‘And let there be no more talk of witchcraft where there is none,’ I say loudly. ‘For to falsely accuse is a crime at the assizes.’ This reminder that I am also a magistrate is enough to get a party moving up the wooded path after Agness. ‘Unhurt, mark you, for the reward!’ I call after them. I reach up to take Viola’s bridle. ‘Well done, child.’

She creeps her little hand onto mine. ‘If there is witchcraft in Banstock I could sooner believe it was Mistress Agness than Isabeau, whatever her sins,’ she says.

I look up at her, and decide it is time she knows all the story, since in some ways it affects her. When I mount my horse, I set the servant to ride behind us. I tell her of the strange doll, and of Solomon Seabourne’s promise to take away the harm in it, if indeed there is any. I even tell her of the cat, though I do not speak of the kittens to save her tender heart.

‘If he can take away the harm, then let him,’ she says. ‘But the evil intent remains. Someone wishes harm to Mistress Isabeau by accusing her.’

‘Someone who is angry and violent. How better to describe Mistress Agness?’ I say, turning my mare’s head for town and the lawyer.

Vincent Garland, Steward to Lord Banstock, His Memoir