31

Beneath the water I couldn’t hear the crowd. It was almost peaceful. No more shouting, no more chanting of ‘Witch! Witch! Witch!’ The cold was brutal, squeezing my head, pressing my lungs. Yet I felt overwhelmingly calm, as if the water was protecting me, somehow, and down here I was safe.

Dark spots flickered before my eyes. My mind, like it did right on the edge of sleep, began to drift away. This, I supposed, was drowning. All that fuss about the caul had been for nothing, because no amount of good luck was going to save me now.

And yet, with a jolt, I was suddenly alert. The dark spots were mud. Something was moving through the water. Everything turned cloudy as a pair of feet kicked their way towards me. It couldn’t be Jem because he was a weak swimmer. But I didn’t know anyone else with such long spindly legs, such grubby breeches.

Two arms hooked themselves under my armpits, and I was lifted up towards the light. We broke the surface together, coughing and heaving for breath.

‘Hold still,’ Jem spluttered as he worked free the knot binding my right thumb to my left toe.

Once I was no longer bent double, I could float. And then it was me helping Jem, who was shaking like fury.

‘Lord, how I hate deep water,’ he gasped.

I couldn’t believe he’d got past the guards, let alone swum in to rescue me.

‘But you’re here!’ I cried. ‘You saved me!’ And he’d be joking about it for years to come if we got out of here alive.

‘You’re n-nnot saved y-yyyet, not with them there,’ Jem stuttered through chattering teeth.

He meant the crowd. The chanting had turned to yelling. I couldn’t tell what the words were, only that they sounded ready to rip us to shreds. What’s more, they’d come closer, spilling down the hillside to stand right at the water’s edge. They were spread all along it, arms linked in a menacing wall.

We had to do something – and fast – because if the crowd didn’t finish us off, then this freezing water would. Even behind us, the rowing boat was still approaching. We were surrounded. Jem looked as terrified as I was. Our only choice – and it wasn’t really one at all – was to face our accusers.

‘We’ll stick together,’ I decided. ‘Two of us will be harder to deal with.’

We swam slowly, knowing every stroke brought us closer to the shore. About twenty yards out, the guards waded in to meet us. There were four of them. Two seized me, the other two took Jem. They were rough, clearly expecting a struggle, though we’d barely strength to stand.

At the front of the crowd was Dr Blood.

‘Take them both to stand before the king! At once!’ he roared.

The crowd parted sullenly. We were hauled across to the table where King James was seated. Mr Hopkins was already on his feet.

‘How DARE you interrupt justice!’ His voice was hushed and deadlier for it. He glared over the top of my head at Jem. ‘YOU, boy, shall be punished for this.’

‘Sir,’ Jem spoke with all the dignity he could muster. ‘I only did what any brother would. My sister is innocent of all charges.’

In that moment, I loved Jem so much it hurt. Yet his words slid over the men like butter in a hot pan.

‘I get results, Master Sharpe, that’s what people pay me for,’ Mr Hopkins replied coldly. ‘Your sister didn’t drown, therefore she is guilty as charged.’

‘And thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,’ Dr Blood added.

I knew the line, all right. It was from the new King James Bible, and the way Dr Blood glanced at the king – fawning, desperate – wasn’t a good sign. We’d made him look bad in front of royalty. He wasn’t about to forget it, either.

‘You’re not … I mean, you can’t …’ I protested.

Jem kept on trying to reason. ‘Gentlemen, I beg you, Fortune might be a bit of an oddity with her short hair and boys’ garments, but she’s no witch.’

‘Get the boy out of my sight,’ Mr Hopkins snarled.

Dr Blood twisted round to beckon more guards. But they were distracted by someone jostling at the front of the crowd.

‘Take your hands off me!’ the woman cried. ‘I can stand by myself. I don’t need assistance.’

I blinked. It couldn’t be.

Maira was supposed to be miles away at sea. Yet it was her, no question, standing a head taller than the guards, and quicker too, sidestepping them with ease. Shoulders back, chin raised, she marched straight up to the king’s table.

‘Those friends at Withy Cove I told you about?’ I muttered to Jem. ‘She’s the boat’s captain.’

‘I know,’ Jem muttered back. ‘I fetched her.’

A rush of pride came over me – at my brother, and at Maira, who was standing before the three men, arms folded, feet apart.

‘What interruption can we possibly have now?’ Mr Hopkins was beginning to lose his cool. ‘Resolve it, Blood, for heaven’s sake!’

Dr Blood took his frustration out on the guards. ‘What are you waiting for? Get rid of this … this … woman! And the boy! They’re interrupting justice—’

‘Justice? Pah!’ Maira spat at his feet.

For the first time King James looked mildly interested. ‘Pray, who is this disorderly wench?’

‘A friend of the accused, clearly,’ Mr Hopkins replied. ‘And therefore a witch by association.’

A look passed between him and Dr Blood. A nod. An agreement. They both turned to me, hard-eyed as ever. I felt my legs go weak. The guards who were holding me tightened their grip.

‘What the …?’ I realised what was happening. Me and Maira? They couldn’t accuse both of us.

More guards started closing in on Maira. Again, she sidestepped them, to jab a finger at Dr Blood. ‘He knows who I am.’

I couldn’t imagine how. Yet they clearly had met before, their dislike for each other very obvious.

‘The woman is mistaken.’ Dr Blood tried to brush it off. ‘She’s in league with Fortune Sharpe. We do not need to hear any more from either of them.’

After all, who were we but two worthless females, whereas he was a man with status. He had wealth and a voice. Well, he’d seriously underestimated Maira.

‘Oh, I’m mistaken, am I?’ She raised an eyebrow – and what power there was in that look. ‘You don’t even know the person you and your business partner hired to bring your sugar cargo to this country? I’d say that was careless, wouldn’t you?’

Sugar.

The white devil, Mistress Bagwell used to call it. It made people rich and tasted like heaven on a plate, yet what it did to teeth and morals left a lot to be desired. So even Maira was part of the trade that bound Dr Blood and Mr Spicer together. I didn’t know what I’d expected her ship to carry, but it hadn’t occurred to me it might be sugar.

I remembered then what Mr Spicer had said on Twelfth Night, about the captain with too many opinions who’d refused to take a certain cargo.

Maira.

It all tied in with her disappearance at the hiring fair. Susannah was probably right: something had spooked her, and that something, for whatever reason, was Mr Spicer.

‘Yes, that’s why I’m here, gentlemen,’ Maira said, still unbelievably calm. ‘To tell you the true nature of this trial, which has nothing to do with witchcraft, and everything to do with the sugar trade.’

The men looked unconvinced by this, which spurred me on to speak up. It was now or never.

‘What she says is true,’ I insisted. ‘I too once worked for Mr Thomas Spicer, of Berrow Hall, Somersetshire.’

‘Indeed, where you lied as to your sex, and were employed as a male servant to Mr Spicer’s son,’ Dr Blood retorted, recovering his stride.

The crowd tittered. King James rolled his eyes. He was starting to look bored.

‘And so we have on trial, a liar and a ship’s captain who goes back on her word. Hardly two of our most upstanding citizens, are they?’ Dr Blood said, so smugly I had to grit my teeth.

Maira didn’t flinch. ‘Mr Spicer – and Dr Blood – wanted my ship and crew to carry a different type of cargo across the Atlantic. We refused.’

‘Really, I hardly think—’ Mr Hopkins tried to interrupt, but the king silenced him with a glare.

‘To keep up with the world’s demand for sugar, huge plantations are needed, worked by huge numbers of people. White men – very rich white men – are taking men, women and children from Africa,’ Maira continued. ‘From the jungle, to work their crops like animals. If you’re dark of skin you’re not human, that’s how they see it.’

Whether the king agreed with her or not, I couldn’t tell, but he was listening. So was the entire crowd.

‘Mr Spicer and Dr Blood,’ Maira went on. ‘They no longer wanted just sugar to be shipped. They asked me to sail by West Africa and pick up a very different type of cargo; one that’s living. Slaves.’

I knew in my gut that this wasn’t good. The hiring fair had been grim enough with its prodding and poking; this was a hundred times worse. I glanced at Jem, who looked as horrified as I was.

‘And you said no?’ the king asked Maira.

‘I did.’

The king sat back in his seat as he thought over what Maira had said. We watched. Waited. You could feel the whole crowd holding their breath.

Yet when he did speak, it was almost a whine. ‘Please don’t tell me I’ve come all this way to hear an argument about sugar.’

‘It’s not just about sugar.’ Maira raised her voice. ‘It’s because I was a woman saying no!’

‘And you’re also a witch,’ Dr Blood reminded her.

‘Ah yes, the witch trial,’ King James interrupted. ‘Shall we resume proceedings?’

A roar went up. Someone shouted, ‘Witch!’ The chanting began all over again.