Witches’ Fire: Pendle Hill’s Curse
The sweet sound that came from the piano keys at her fingertips held Ruth in a place she never wanted to leave – his world, as she was sure this was the kind of music the Earl would listen to.
In the three months since she and Josh had made up their minds to be man and wife, it was as if music had been the thing her life had lacked and yet craved, without her knowing it. Josh had laughed at her enthusiasm, and sometimes baulked at teaching her the notes every night. ‘Give over, lass,’ he’d said one night. ‘A man needs his rest.’ Then he’d leaned forward and whispered, ‘Especially as he now has a wife to keep happy, before he can go to sleep in his bed at night.’
With this, she’d learned that giving in to his needs could help her get what she wanted, and she had whispered back, ‘Yes, but a man has to please his wife out of the bed an’ all, to get what he wants in it.’
He’d looked surprised, but had grinned. ‘Eeh, lass, I’d do owt so as not to have you stop our coming together at night. So you’re now saying as I must earn it? Well, hotch up on that stool and let me get beside you. I think you’re ready to learn a piece of music that is beautiful but simple to master, though it took me three years to get to the bottom of it.’
Listening to him tell how his grandmother taught him the notes and how he played by ear at that time, and then taught himself the meaning of the chords as they were written, had enthralled her. For him to do all of this on his own, and just from books, was magical to her. Once he had mastered them, he’d taught himself to play ‘Für Elise’ by a man called Beethoven, as he’d read that it was one of the easiest piano pieces to play.
When Josh had played it to her, it had touched her soul, and she had made it her mission to learn to play it herself. But her constant practising of the keys and learning of this piece, whenever she could, had got on Nora’s nerves. ‘Give over, lass,’ she’d said. ‘I can’t hear me own thoughts.’
Ruth’s look of utter disappointment had Josh saying, ‘I’ll put piano on that pull-all on wheels as I made, and take it out back to me shed. It’s dry in there and, with the high roof, it will have good acoustics for you.’ She’d had to ask what acoustics were and he’d told her, ‘Them’s like vibrations – sound. Oh, I don’t know how to explain, but without them your music is flat and held back some.’
Feeling in awe of his self-taught knowledge had made her practise even harder. But still Ruth had a longing to read the squiggles that represented the notes, so that she could play anything she wanted to.
The door of the shed creaking open didn’t stop her. Josh came up to her and sat on the bale of straw next to her. Glancing at him, she saw his look of wonderment, and this encouraged her and brought her back from dreaming of the Earl. As she came to the last of the notes she’d mastered, she gave him a smile that held achievement.
‘You were lost in that piece, and your face were a picture. I’d like to be where that took you, lass.’
She turned her blush at this into a laugh. ‘Eeh, Josh Bottomless, you’re a one. A farmer through and through, with a side to you that the world will never see – an artistic and very clever side. Seeing stuff in me face, ha!’
‘By, that’s daft. I’m not artistic. I never paint or owt. But you are. What you’ve picked up in a few weeks took me years. That piece has a structure, which in music books is described as . . . A–B–A–C–A. They say it ain’t difficult, but I bet there ain’t many as have never touched a piano afore that can play it within a month of doing so! So, lass, now you have got the hang of the piano-pedalling bit, I reckon we could go on to the next part of it. Shift off the stool and I’ll play it for you.’
Watching his fingers in wonder, and listening to the intricate notes of the last half of the piece, Ruth thought she’d maybe take the three years Josh had taken, before she could play it. For now, she let the rapidly rising music seep into her. As she did so, it surprised her to know that this wasn’t how it should sound. She knew instinctively that it could be better. Oh, I must learn to read the notes somehow. As Josh said, he could teach me which key to strike and when, but he don’t know where to start with the teaching of reading music. He’s hardly got it all himself. And with me not reading and writing.
Though Josh was starting to teach her this last. That is, when he could prise her away from the piano, which wasn’t often, as that’s all she wanted to do in her free time.
As the music came to an end and she stood to take the seat again, Josh stayed her. ‘I have a worry on me, lass, and I need to talk to you.’
Why fear jabbed at her stomach she didn’t know, but something told Ruth that what he had to say held terror for her. Her legs shook as she lowered herself back down. Coming round to the other side of her and sharing the same straw bale, he took her hands in his. Calluses roughened his skin and told a different story from his music and the learned side of him. But though there was no clue to that part of him in his touch, his caring side was etched into it.
‘Young Fin hasn’t showed up in a while, and I found out today that he’s took with the sweating-sickness and croup – the same as that lad had, who you cursed when he attacked you.’
The blood in her veins chilled, shivering her body. ‘But they can’t think as I had owt to do with it. I haven’t seen Fin.’
‘Naw, but he looked on you. He told his ma, before he got too ill to talk, that he were curious as to why he weren’t allowed up here and he crept up one afternoon. He said as you were feeding chickens, but you stopped and stared at him.’
‘I didn’t, Josh, I didn’t. I remember hearing a noise and looking to see what it was, but I didn’t clap me eyes on owt. And I haven’t got them powers they say as I have. Neither did I curse that McNaught lad. I only shouted at him in self-defence!’
‘I know that, but the town is whipped up about it. I had them jeering at me and saying as I were harbouring a witch, and no good would come of it for me. I had to pack me stall up and come home early.’
‘I hadn’t noticed that you were early. I got what I had to do done as quick as I could and came in here, and then lost track of time. Eeh, Josh, what’re we going to do? They’ll come for me, I can feel it.’
‘Aye, some of the talk were of that.’
‘What were they saying? Oh God, Josh, they burn witches.’ All the breath went from her at the horror of this. Her throat burned as if the flames were already licking at it. Her ‘Help me!’ was a rasping cry.
‘I’ll think of sommat, lass. And I have me gun. I’ll shoot the bastards if they show their faces near enough to me house.’
‘Naw – I must go, Josh. I must. I’ll make me way to Northallerton to find that earl. You have his card. We could contact him. He told you as he’d only meant well by me and that I should have trusted him. Well, now . . .’
‘I can’t bear it, Ruth. I can’t lose you, I—’
‘But, losing me is what will happen if I stay. I know them Pradley lot, and aye, you and Nora won’t be safe either, not if they come baying for me and you try to stop them, you won’t.’
His arms enclosed her, his tears dripped onto her hair. Hers wet her face, as a hollow despair locked her in its grip.
The first sound of a disturbance caused Ruth’s unsleeping body to jolt to full alertness. Sitting bolt upright, she listened. Within seconds Josh had rolled off the bed and stood upright, causing the springs to groan and block out any further outside noise. Every part of Ruth became aware, as if honed ready for action, but inside she was stiff with fear.
‘What is it, Josh? Can you see anything?’
Light flashed over his face before dancing on the walls of their bedroom in ever-expanding flickers, accompanied by a chant. A low, hum-hum chant. The barrel of Josh’s gun glinted in what, she now realized, was light from torches carried by a walking throng of folk. Torches of fire!
A crack that resounded around the room blocked her ears and filled the air with gunshot fumes. Silence engulfed her, but as her hearing came back she heard Josh shout, ‘Come any closer and I’ll take you one by one – man, boy or woman. None of you are entering me home.’
A stone crashed through the window, just missing Josh. There was no time to react as a ball of fire followed it, landing on the bed next to Ruth. Her body cringed away from the searing heat as flames spiralled up towards the ceiling.
Sweat ran from Ruth. It snaked its way in trickles that wet her through, but still she hadn’t moved off the bed as the roaring inferno held her mesmerized, unable to take a breath or find her voice to scream out. Someone else’s scream filled the space around her. Looking in its direction, she saw Nora, her hair bound in a thousand knots of cotton, nightdress buttoned to her chin, eyes staring and mouth agape.
With her heart pounding and her body seemingly turned to stone, Ruth could do nothing, but a yank on her arm propelled her to action. ‘Get hold of Ma and take her out back. Hurry, Ruth!’
Another crack spun her into a panic, but she held herself together. She must save Nora. Taking her ice-cold hand, Ruth tugged. ‘Nora, come on. We’ll get into the pigsty out back. Come on, we can hide there . . . Hurry, Nora, hurry!’
A wall of faces met them at the back door, blackened with coal dust – ugly, snarling faces with eyes red-raw and lips shining in the light of the flaming torches they held. ‘You’re coming with us, witch!’ This said in a voice she recognized, but couldn’t name, as her mind became strangled with terror. It was taken up by the group, as if they’d lost their freedom of thought and were now a hungry pack of wolves.
Hands grabbed her, tore at her, gouged her flesh and pulled her hair. Her body was propelled forward. Her foot dragged behind her, then her other one gave way and the hard ground scraped her skin, tearing her as if to shreds. Her wails of pain and fear went unheard. Dust and pebbles filled her mouth. Spitting them out gave her the taste of blood, mixed with her tears and snot. Every limb burned and her arms stretched, as if leaving their sockets. Her hair, pulled out at the roots, made her scalp sear with pain.
‘Lift her. We don’t want her dead yet. If we don’t hear her scream the evil spirit out of her, at the agony of the flames, she’ll not die – not ever. Instead her spirit will roam our streets and our houses and, unseen, she’ll strike us down one by one.’
This cry she knew to be from McNaught, who still bore traces of his Scottish accent. Looking up at him and calling him by name, and begging mercy of him, did no good and was lost in another crack of Josh’s gun. The sound hadn’t died down before McNaught hit the ground with a thud that only a dead weight can make.
‘She’s killed him! Christ, she’s killed him!’
With this cry a chant started up, ‘Witch, burn the witch!’ And another voice, a scream: ‘Do it – do it now!’
Ruth’s teeth clamped down on her tongue, and her eyes stung with the fear that seared her as they travelled from one hate-filled face to another. Everyone she looked on shrank from her. A woman fainted, causing a hush to descend. Into this a voice trembling with horror shouted, ‘Get a sack to cover her face, so that she can’t look on us. She’s the devil incarnate!’
Horror seeped from all her pores, giving Ruth the feeling that her blood was draining from her. ‘Josh – Josh, help me. Save me!’
‘He can’t help you, witch. He and his ma are dead.’
The words, spoken in a matter-of-fact tone, had hardly died on the lips of the speaker when a shaft of flame billowed into the air. All fight left her as she saw the house – the home Josh and Nora loved – enveloped in flames. ‘Oh, Josh, Josh . . .’ Along with this utter despair came the knowledge that truly she was a witch. She’d caused so much trouble and had brought pain to those she loved. Everyone she encountered either died or was killed, or something dreadful happened to them. Her cry for mercy now turned into a prayer: ‘God, help me. God, help me . . .’
‘He’ll not help the likes of you.’
‘Throw her into the fire!’
‘Naw, we’re taking her to Pendle Hill, like we said. It has to be done there.’
‘But it’s miles away. And don’t forget, there’s that valley to cross an’ all.’
‘Stop moaning and get the carthorse and hitch it up to that dray, then get her onto it. Tie her, so as she can’t move; and, aye, cover her face.’
These were the voices of townsfolk she’d known all her life. Some had given her a wide berth, others had chased kids off when they tormented her, and still others had been good friends to her ma and da. And now they were intent on killing her. As the sack came over her face, two women stood in front of her. ‘Hold it a mo. We have sommat we have to do.’ Their spit hit her and mingled with her sweat and tears, as it traced a slow path down her cheeks. She looked from Mrs McNaught to Mrs Finwil. Both had distraught expressions, holding more hate than she’d ever imagined existed.
Through the sack she saw the light of their torches, the house fire and the dark shadows of her persecutors as if cut into a hundred little squares. Her breathing became harder and had her sucking the hessian in and out of her mouth. The rough cloth took what spittle she had and tasted of dry, dirty wool. Her throat stretched, her stomach wrenched, but she pushed the cloth out of her mouth with her tongue and swallowed hard. If she was sick she would choke.
The wheels squealed their protest at having to force their way over the rough terrain – a sound she’d heard many a time as Josh had left for market. Oh, Josh; poor, poor Josh. And Nora. Oh God! Prayers seemed useless now, mocking even, as though God himself laughed in her face. Yes, he’d allowed her snatches of happiness, but was that only so that she’d feel the painful parts even more? At this moment she cursed him. And that left her even more destitute.