Damn You

Roger Nowell was in pain. It began about noon as he finished his dinner and got up from the table. His legs buckled under him. He felt a sharp pain like a knife in his groin. He had to grab the edge of the oak table to stop himself falling. He called a servant who helped him up the stairs to bed. The doctor could not attend at once, and so the herbalist from Whalley was summoned. By the time she arrived Roger Nowell was in a bloodshot fever.

‘I am being stabbed,’ he said, ‘run through with sharp irons.’ He screamed and grabbed his chest as another searing pain tore through him.

The herbalist undid his shirt. She rolled back the blankets to look at his legs. His body looked as if it had been stabbed and stabbed. There were red marks all over him. The marks bled.

‘This is not a natural ague,’ said the herbalist. ‘It is witchcraft.’

‘Demdike,’ said Roger Nowell. ‘Damn her to Hell.’

Potts burst into the room looking triumphant. ‘I have sensational news! Christopher Southworth is in Lancashire. Christopher Southworth is at the Rough Lee.’

‘I know,’ said Roger Nowell.

‘You know? And you do nothing?’

‘There is nothing to be done. I have had the house searched from top to bottom. No sign of the man.’

‘Arrest Mistress Nutter.’

‘I cannot arrest a woman for harbouring a man who is not there.’

‘He is there!’ shouted Potts, stamping his foot.

‘I am ill,’ said Roger Nowell.

Potts came over to the bed. He could see that Roger Nowell was indeed ill. ‘This is sorcery!’ said Potts.

‘Demdike,’ said Roger Nowell. ‘I have ordered the crew from Malkin brought here this evening. If I am still alive I shall take witness statements.’

‘I shall do all of that,’ cried Potts, sensing his hour of glory approaching. ‘And although you are struck down by witchcraft, why do you call on the Demdike for the offence? I will wager this is the work of Alice Nutter.’

The herbalist was offended. ‘Mistress Nutter is skilled in the alchemical arts and knows her plants and powders but she is no witch and I will swear to it.’

‘You will swear to nothing unless you want to join her at the stake,’ said Potts.

The herbalist did not reply. She mixed up a potion and ordered Roger Nowell to drink it down. He did so and fell straight asleep.

The herbalist warned his manservant that he must not be disturbed until he woke naturally. Then she took her donkey and rode to the Rough Lee.