s she was leaving the cathedral, Kai had the strangest sense that there was something wrong. Dinny, who greeted her at the door, felt the same way. She rubbed against her, crying anxiously. Kai picked her up and hugged her, wondering what the strange noise was that she had heard in the chapel. The wind? It was windy enough outside, a freezing wind bringing a freezing rain that cut into her face as she made her way across the cloister garth.
She was looking for Tom. She was determined to make it up with him. Even if it meant she had to tell him her secret, she would take the risk. She would have no more secrets from him. He was a friend, after all, and with true friends you were honest. And if they were true friends, they would help you out when you were in trouble. But there was no sign of him anywhere; he must still be with Brother Albert. She felt restless, unable to decide what to do. Perhaps she would go to Master Giles’s house and see if Paul had confessed or Joan had any luck convincing her father that Edward had not stolen the statue. She made her way through St Nicholas’s gate and down towards St Kevin’s quarter, where the mason’s house was.
But as she passed the alleyway that led past St Patrick’s towards the Archbishop’s Palace and St Kevin’s Street, her skin began to crawl. She knew that feeling from her years on the road with her father: the feeling of danger. Someone was watching her, with no good will towards her. Was it the choir boys from St Patrick’s lying in wait for her? But she had only time to sense the presence of danger before everything went black.
A sack had gone over her head and shoulders and she was dragged, kicking and screaming, through a doorway and down some foul-smelling narrow stairs. Her hands and feet were tied and then a rope went around her waist and she was attached firmly to a chair. The sack was pulled roughly from her head, and caught the thin chain that held her coral. It broke, and her mother’s charm fell to the ground. Looking around her, Kai realised that she must be in some kind of cellar. It smelled of rat droppings and damp. There in front of her was the escheator, along with Roland and Brother Malcolm. They were seated at a table, and Brother Malcolm had parchment and a pen. There was a lantern hanging beside her so that the light shone into her eyes, but apart from the rushlight beside Brother Malcolm’s writing materials, their faces were in shadow. Even in the dimness, though, she could still see that Roland had a wide grin on his face and was twitching with excitement.
‘Well now,’ said Sir Patrick. ‘A coney well trapped. First, we must tell you that we know everything – all about your crimes and your witchcraft. But we need some answers from you before we bring you before the people for trial. It will be best for you to confess all to us and to the Good Lord.’
‘Confess what? I have done nothing wrong!’
Brother Malcolm broke in, spluttering in his rage. ‘Nothing wrong? You have defiled God’s altar with your female presence! You have lied to all the holy canons! You have been seen conversing with demons in the very cathedral itself! And who knows what else you have done? Perhaps you are the very cause of the plague that has afflicted us. Perhaps you even swayed the minds of the brothers to vote that feeble cleric, Stephen of Derby, as prior. Nothing wrong indeed!’
The escheator cast a disapproving glance at Brother Malcolm.
‘That is no way to place the charges before the accused, brother. We must do this formally and in a dignified matter. Please, contain yourself.’
He gave a small cough and began, in a voice with a strange, chanting tone. Even his accent changed, as if he were trying to sound more English:
‘These are the charges laid out against you, the varmint known as Kai Breakwater. Do I take it your Christian name is Katherine?’
Kai nodded. So they knew. She was done for.
‘Katherine Breakwater, you are charged with:
‘Defiling God’s House.
‘Deceiving the brothers of our most noble cathedral, the Holy Trinity, also known as Christ Church.
‘Inflicting the plague on the people of Dublin.
‘Conversing with demons.
‘Possession of a familiar, to wit, the black cat known as Dinny.
‘Foully perverting the minds of the holy brothers in the election of Prior Stephen of Derby as prior to the said house of the Holy Trinity.
‘What say you to these charges?’
Kai swallowed.
‘I am not guilty of any of them. Except perhaps misleading the brothers into thinking I was a boy. But no one ever asked me if I was a girl!’
Brother Malcolm broke in: ‘You see how devious she is, twisting the truth. Another charge against her, dissimulation to her judges! Shall we add it to the list?’
‘Let’s!’ said Roland gleefully.
Brother Malcolm was writing everything down. Kai wondered should she just say nothing. Already it seemed that anything she might say could become yet another charge against her. But she had to defend herself, so she continued, ‘And I don’t believe that my singing has defiled God’s house. I believe that God and his angels love to hear music, whether it comes from the mouth of a boy or a girl. As for the other charges – they are just ridiculous. I don’t know how anyone could believe them. I certainly did not bring the plague or have anything to do with the election of Stephen as prior. Though I’m very glad he was elected. So there.’
Here she looked rebelliously at Brother Malcolm.
‘Ah! See! She does not deny that she has a familiar. Or that she speaks to demons.’ Brother Malcolm was smiling almost as widely as Roland.
‘Dinny is a cat. A CAT.’ Kai spelt it out. ‘She is no more magic than I am. As for the voices in the cathedral, perhaps they are magic, but if they are, they are good magic. They are the voices of the children who have sung there through the years. They do no harm, and they comfort me. Jack is there too, and he is happy.’
She looked at Roland as she said this, hoping he at least would understand the importance of Jack still being with them in the cathedral, but he just looked away.
His father said, ‘Blasphemy and sorcery! It is worse than I thought! We cannot let the people listen to her speak, she is too skilful with her lies. We should have guessed with her mountebank father that she would have a tongue like a serpent …’
‘You must realise that we have other witnesses against you. The mason Paul has also borne witness that he has heard the voices of demons in Christ Church. Confess and repent, child.’ Brother Malcolm’s voice had changed, become gentle: ‘If you confess and repent there is the chance of a less painful death than burning. It is quite clear that you have magical powers. You have admitted it yourself with your talk of the spirits in the cathedral. And look how you walked among the plague victims and did not become ill. Look how you saved your friend the miller’s boy.’
‘Brother Albert and Dame Maria went into all the plague houses too, much more often than me. And no one is accusing them of witchcraft! And if I had been able to save lives, wouldn’t I have saved Jack too?’
To her fury, Kai found that she was crying. The escheator said sternly.
‘Enough of this. It is evident that the witch is guilty. She is a most stubborn sorceress. Let us spread the word in Dublin that she is to be punished!’
‘But I have not been tried! There has been no court! You have made up your mind already so no matter what I say you are not going to believe me!’
‘We will bring you before the people. We have spread the word and they will gather in the marketplace at first light, to be told of your crimes. They will judge.’
Kai had been too angry with the lies that were being told about her to have been really afraid up until now. But now she realised that she was in very serious trouble. She had been judged by crowds before. Being part of a crowd sometimes brought out the worst in people, made them become cruel in a way they would never be normally. Nice people, gentle people, had been part of the crowds that had run her father and herself and Edward out of towns, pelting them with stones and shouting at them. Bring a crowd together and you could never tell what might happen, only that they were usually looking for someone to blame for all their problems. And in a town like Dublin, where the plague was present, they would be only too happy to have someone to blame …
Her three judges left. She sat for what seemed like a long time, bound to the chair. Finally, a faint light appeared and Dame Rachel came down the steps to the cellar. She was dressed in a white shift and carried a bowl of soup and some bread. She untied Kai’s hands, but not her legs, and handed her the food.
‘Eat quickly,’ she said. ‘I should not be here.’
The soup was thin and greasy and the bread hard, but Kai was so grateful for something to eat that she ate everything. Dame Rachel tied her hands again, this time in front of her. She placed a small crucifix between her fingers. Then she noticed the coral on the ground.
‘What’s this?’ she asked, picking it up.
Kai felt tears coming on.
‘It was my mother’s,’ she said in a choked voice.
Dame Rachel slipped the coral into her tied hands and covered them with her own.
‘You may be a witch and be going to burn,’ she said. ‘But that does not mean you may not have the comfort of the Lord and of your own mother with you. It may help you when the flames come to meet you.’
There I was thinking her as mad as a brush, thought Kai, and she’s possibly saner and certainly kinder than her husband and son.
All the night through she sat, tied to the chair, with only the company of a small furry animal, who crept from the shadows into her lap and licked her hands with her tiny, rough tongue, trying to comfort her mistress, and, in the darkness, doing her very best to keep the rats away from her.
As soon as he could escape from Brother Albert, Tom headed for the cathedral. He was already feeling bad about having told Roland where Kai went when she sneaked away from them. When he saw that there was nobody in the cathedral, he felt worse. He spent the next half hour checking all the places in the priory where Kai was usually to be found. Then he left to see if his friend might have gone to Giles the mason’s house. On his way there, he almost tripped over an urchin, who barrelled into him in too much of a hurry to watch where he was going. He gave Tom a cheeky grin.
‘What’s your hurry? You nearly tripped me up!’ Tom said.
‘I’m going to collect wood for the witch burning! The girl from the priory is going to be burned!’ The child could hardly speak with excitement.
‘What do you mean?’ said Tom. ‘There are no girls in the priory!’
‘Yes there are! It’s the choirboy called Kai, that everyone thought was a boy. Except she’s a girl. And she’s a witch so they are going to take her out at dawn to be burned! She … she …’ the child thought hard, trying to remember exactly what he had been told and ended triumphantly: ‘She converses with demons in the cathedral! Paul the mason heard them!’
Tom swallowed. What was going on? Demons in the cathedral? Had their trick been too successful? He was still trying to take in the fact that Kai was a girl. So that was why she was so secretive.
‘Where is Kai?’ he asked. ‘Who has arrested him … her?’
‘Oh, nobody knows. But she is being brought to trial at the High Cross in the marketplace in the morning, at first light. They say that when she is burned the curse will be lifted from Dublin and the plague will end!’
Tom took a halfpenny out of his pocket. ‘Run to the priory and tell Brother Albert all about this, and you shall have this. Will you do that? Do you promise me?’
The child nodded and took the coin. Then he ran off into the maze of streets. Tom could only hope he would keep his word.
Tom wondered what to do. If Kai was being guarded by the law, there was no point trying to find her. Perhaps if he went to the mason’s house there might be some word as to where Edward was. It was a faint chance, but he didn’t have a lot of choices.
At the mason’s house, the door to the courtyard was locked and there was no answer when he banged on it as hard and as long as he could.
He was standing there, unsure what to do next, when a woman in a bright red gown, passing him in the street, stopped and stared hard at him. She was carrying a large wicker basket full of linens. He recognised her as Ymna, for she often did the washing for the priory.
She looked at him quizzically. ‘No point trying that door, they are all gone away up to talk to the guild.’
‘Is Joan with them? It’s really her I’m looking for,’ said Tom.
‘She is. They have all gone up to get young Paul dismissed. It turns out he was the one who took that statue that there was all the fuss about. He wanted to get Edward into trouble. He finally confessed what he had done. Something must have put the frighteners on him; he keeps babbling about demon voices in the cathedral. Why did you want to see Joan?’
‘I wanted to see if she had had any news from Edward. His sister is in terrible danger and needs help.’
Quickly, Tom told Ymna what had had happened to Kai. He ended: ‘But I don’t know where she is or who has captured her. And I don’t know what to do!’
‘I’ll tell you what you can do, for I know Kai and Edward well, and their father. You must go and fetch Ned Breakwater from where he is up in the mountains. He is the only one with the wit to save his daughter.’
‘But how? And where is he? How can I get up there?’
‘I was heading up to the priory myself to tell Kai that I have finally got news of where Ned is. He’s up in the hills beyond the village of Rathfarnham. It’s a good two hours ride from the city. You must go out Patrick’s Gate and follow the trail out towards Rathfarnham. After the church there, you will be going up into the hills. It will be a rough ride, for those mountains are full of danger. Ned is with the fairground people, so if you head south and ask for directions for their camp you will find the way. But you must go at once, before the dark sets in.’
‘Is there no one else who can go?’ said Tom, desperately.
Ymna snorted disdainfully.
‘Yes, I’ll head up there in my chariot and horses! No, boy, of course there is no one else. You are wasting time, go on now, get you gone. Do you want to see your friend burned alive?’
Tom drew in a deep breath. Who else could help? Joan? Brother Albert? It was true, he was the only one left to do this. He was going to have to take a horse from the priory stables and make his way through darkness up into the hills where the wild Irish lived. If only Jack were around to come with him!
Tom sat down on a bale of hay and eyed the priory horses nervously. There were three of them: Abelard, Anselma and the newest horse, Puca. Tom watched in frustration at the performance that Puca always put on when someone came near him. The horse danced its way around its stable, its eyes rolling, its mouth frothing.
Brother Albert, when he had been brought out to see the new horse, had looked at the fierce eyes and kicking coal black feet and had not been able to find a suitable saint or theologian to name him after.
In the end, Jack had chosen the horse’s name, calling him after the fairy beast who brought travellers on wild midnight rides. Puca was the fastest horse in the stables. He was also the meanest. But Anselma was due to foal and Abelard was as lazy as sin, so Tom really didn’t have much choice.
He gritted his teeth and stood up, halter in hand. He could not waste any more precious time, but it was going to be a nightmare, trying to catch the huge black beast without being kicked to pieces. He threw the halter in the general direction of Puca’s neck but only managed to hit him on the side with it.
Puca went even more wild. ‘Jack should be the one who is here doing this,’ Tom thought bitterly. ‘Jack should have been the one left alive. He would have been able to help Kai. Or whatever she is called.’ He kicked the manger and cursed. The he started over again. After several more futile attempts to catch the horse, he finally made it onto Puca’s back with all his bones more or less intact. Once on the horse, he made straight for the southern gate of the city.
Leaving Dublin to take the unfamiliar road was strange and frightening. The mountains rose up before him, blue darkening to purple as the light faded. He rode the horse as fast as he dared, trying hard not to imagine who – or what – could be lurking behind the hedgerows that lined the track to the hills. It was almost dark when he reached Rathfarnham. The village was nothing more than a scatter of cabins huddled around a small church. There was a woman standing outside one, gathering a basket of turf, and he stopped to ask the way to the fairground people’s camp.
The farmer’s wife looked at him curiously. ‘And what might a city choirboy want with that gang of rascals? And riding such a fine horse?’ she asked.
‘Please, just tell me the way; it’s urgent.’ Not for the first time Tom wished he had Jack’s easy manner. And his ability to make up stories at will, which would help him give an explanation which this woman would accept.
‘Urgent, is it? Hmmh. Very well, then – take the trail that leads up past Harold’s Grange, keeping the mountain in view all the time. Then you will have to ford the river – there’s no bridge. The trail will finish and after that you will have to make your way through the scrub woodland and heather as best you can. The fairground people are camping in Kelly’s Glen, to the west of the hilltop. You’ll see their fires as you come near to them. But don’t say I didn’t warn you of how dangerous it is up there! There are dark creatures living in those woods. The Irish O’Tooles have taken over the Royal Deer Forest at Glencree, just the other side of the mountains. So these hills are no longer safe; it’s not safe even down here in the village. And never mind the Irish, there are wicked creatures up there that are not human at all …
‘Didn’t you ever hear stories of the black cat seen up there and the witches meeting the devil on those mountains?’
Thanks, thought Tom. That was all I needed, more horrors to be afraid of along the way. Every nerve in his body was taut and every bone in his body ached from the ride. Puca was restive, giving every indication of wanting to bolt back to his stable.
Not happening, you horrible beast, said Tom to himself. Holding tight onto the reins with his blistered hands, he directed the horse towards the louring darkness of the hills.
A bitter wind had sprung up and wailed through the trees that blocked his path southwards. There was still a long, hard ride ahead, and he wished he could believe that he would ever reach his goal.