I hoped beyond hope that he was jesting, or very poorly in the mind. Yet looming over me with a needle big enough for knitting wool, Mr Hopkins looked dangerously sane. He was still holding my foot in his free hand: no amount of squirming would make him release it. I twisted as far as I could away from him, which wasn’t far enough by a mile.
‘I don’t much care for needles,’ I tried to reason.
He spoke only to the soldiers. ‘If she’s a witch the needle will go in without pain. And you’ll witness no injury—’
He jabbed at my foot.
The shock made me jump. So did the fact it didn’t hurt, though not for the reasons he claimed.
‘It’s a trick!’ I blurted out. ‘The needle clicked. It retracted! I heard it!’
‘I did too,’ the quieter soldier admitted. Fierce Soldier breathed in sharply.
Mr Hopkins removed his device, beckoning the soldiers forward to inspect my foot. I gritted my teeth, hating them all.
‘There’s no wound on the skin!’ Fierce Soldier said in disbelief.
Mr Hopkins nodded calmly. ‘As I expected. The needle has no effect on her. Because she is a witch.’
‘It didn’t go in!’ I protested.
But the soldiers were now edging towards the door.
‘Where are you going?’ Mr Hopkins asked, surprised.
Fierce Soldier spread his hands. ‘Master Hopkins, this here is a child and what you’re doing to her, well, it’s not right.’
‘Indeed, it’s torture,’ the quieter one muttered.
I felt unexpectedly hopeful again. Was this it, then? Was it over?
‘Torture? Gentlemen, I’ve barely started,’ Mr Hopkins said coolly.
‘We’ll find you someone else to guard her,’ Fierce Soldier replied.
They couldn’t get out of the door fast enough. Mr Hopkins hurried after them, though not before securing me to the stool, and taking all but one of the candles with him.
I sat there in the almost-dark, thinking now what? Was someone coming back? Were they going to just leave me here?
I wasn’t going to wait and find out.
Mr Hopkins, the brute, had tied my wrists to the legs of the stool. Thinking I might manage to undo the knots with my teeth, I leaned forward. It wasn’t easy to keep my balance, and just as I’d got my head between my knees, the key rasped in the lock and the door opened again.
Upside down I saw a person enter, wearing worn, muddy shoes. The stool tipped. Chin first, I went sprawling to the floor. The force of the blow made me bite my own cheek. I tasted blood. The new guard heaved me off the floor. As the room righted itself again, I saw he was wearing a cloak, the hood of which was raised. He didn’t look like the soldiers. He was younger, thin about the shoulders.
‘I’ve been given orders to keep you walking – all day and night if I have to,’ the guard said in a very gruff voice.
Something about him annoyed me. Maybe it was because I sensed he was only a little older than me. He also sounded as if he had a very sore throat – either that or he was trying a bit too hard to act older than his years.
‘What for?’ I snapped.
I stared at him. ‘Imps? The little green creatures?’
‘Mr Hopkins says if a witch is exhausted, that’s when she’s most likely to be taken over by evil spirits to do their bidding,’ the guard explained. ‘And those spirits often take the form of imps.’
‘Then Mr Hopkins is a complete cod-brain,’ I muttered under my breath.
The guard tried not to smile.
‘I’m to keep you walking, miss,’ he said. ‘Even when you’re fit to drop.’
‘Do what you will, then.’ I was weary enough already. I’d no idea fear could be so exhausting – and anger, and frustration – all eating away at me because it was obvious they weren’t going to let me go.
Once he’d untied my wrists from the stool, the guard started walking me up and down, up and down. It wasn’t a big room – seven paces either way, at the most. We were turning so often I soon felt dizzy. I hated Mr Hopkins. I hated Dr Blood and his greedy plans to win favour with the king. I wasn’t overly fond of this new guard, either, who was following his instructions to the letter.
When a bang on the door came, and a call of ‘Open up!’ I felt another stupid rush of hope. Mr Hopkins didn’t come inside. He merely handed over another candle and told the guard he’d be back at dawn.
‘I’m counting on you, boy,’ Mr Hopkins said. ‘I should’ve trusted a local guard all along.’
The door closed. The key ground in the lock. Outside in the passageway, Mr Hopkins’ footfalls faded to silence. The thought of being here all night made me so despairing, I barely noticed the guard taking my arm and gently guiding me back to sit on the stool. Only when he said, ‘I’m going to untie you now,’ did I look up.
The voice, no longer gruff, was Jem’s. So was the face peering at me, which I could see now he’d dropped the hood of his cloak. I shut my eyes and opened them again, just in case it was a trick of the light. But there was no mistaking Jem’s narrow face and kind grey eyes.
‘Brother!’ I gasped. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I could ask you the same,’ he replied.
For the briefest moment, I wondered if he was still angry with me. But I was so overwhelmingly glad to see him, I started to cry in earnest.
‘Oh, Jem,’ I sobbed. ‘Things have taken a very sorry turn, haven’t they?’
‘Indeed they have,’ he agreed, and there were tears in his eyes too, which he quickly sniffed away. ‘But shush now, hold still or I’ll never get these knots undone.’
The second he’d untied me, I flung my arms around him. He smelled so familiar – of sea salt and sackcloth – it made me cry all the more.
‘I’ve missed you,’ I snivelled into his shoulder.
‘Let’s never fight again.’ He staggered a little under my weight. ‘Whoa, you’ve got bigger these past months!’
‘You’ve got saucier,’ I replied, tweaking his ear. ‘Last time I saw you, you were the blessed child of Fair Maidens Lane. What happened? Why are you working here?’
He ducked away, suddenly serious. ‘Remember that night Mother took you from your bed?’
‘Insisting it was time I found work? That I’d do better as a boy?’ Oh, I remembered it, all right.
‘She was terrified they’d come for you next. That’s why she did it.’
I groaned, head in hands. We should never have gone out in our boat on the Sabbath. My inkling about Mother had been right all along: she’d lied about the need for me to earn money. She’d sent me to the hiring fair hoping I’d be safer away from Fair Maidens Lane.
‘The flood has made things ten times worse,’ Jem went on. ‘It’s like fever, this fear of witchcraft – it’s not just the landowners using it as an excuse to get their hands on our land. Everyone’s got a dose of it. And now the king’s coming to Somerset, and we all know his thoughts on witches. It’s hardly going to calm things down.’
I looked up. ‘You haven’t told me yet why you’re working here.’
‘They needed local guards. How I saw it, if I was on duty when they brought you in, well, I might be to able help you. I’m sorry, I couldn’t think what else to do.’
‘Wait … You knew I was going to be arrested?’
He gave a half nod. ‘These past few days the rumours started again. Everyone’s saying the same thing, that witches are to blame, and the suspects should be arrested. Your name kept being mentioned.’
‘Why me?’
‘Because, dear sister, you’ve always been a bit different. And once we’d been seen out in the sea on the Sabbath, well, it didn’t take long for people to seize on a name …’
‘That Dr Blood is an evil piece,’ I said, slumping back in my seat. ‘You know he’s been spying on our hamlet right from the start? At least, the man he hired has.’
‘That’s not the worst of it, either,’ Jem replied miserably. ‘Oh, Fortune, they’re taking you to the Assizes. A proper witch trial, it’ll be, laid on for the king’s benefit.’
Fear twisted in my chest. But I fought it because there was a way out of this. It would take courage, and a fair bit of running – all the way down the coast to where the Songbird was about to set sail.
‘Jem,’ I said, trying to be calm. ‘That key you’ve got. How many doors does it open?’
‘All of them. Now do you see why I work here?’
Absolutely I did.
‘Have you heard of a place called Withy Cove?’ I asked.
‘I have. It’s a few miles east of town. Why?’
‘That’s where we need to go. There are people I know – people who can help us. I can’t go back home, not yet, and neither can you once it’s known you’ve freed me.’
‘Can’t we do this on our own, just us?’
‘We need them, Jem. They’ve got a boat, and they’ll take us far away from here.’
His smile was affectionate and sad. ‘I once said I’d never get in a boat with you again, don’t you remember?’
I did. But, oh my word, how times had changed.