August 1612

‘The countie of Lancaster may lawfully be said to abound as much in witches of divers kindes, as Seminaries, Jesuits and Papists.’

Potts was pleased with himself; he was writing a book.

‘Shakespeare,’ he thought as he scribbled away. ‘Foolish fancy. This is life as it is lived.’

‘Do you have to write a book?’ asked Roger Nowell, who was sick of it all.

‘Posterity. Truth. Record. Record. Truth –’

‘Posterity,’ said Roger Nowell.

‘Here is the title page: “The Wonderfull Discoverie of Witches in the Countie of Lancashire by Thomas Potts, Lawyer”.’

‘I suppose it will take your mind off the fact that the King’s spies have failed to catch Christopher Southworth – again.’

Alice Nutter was in her cell when she heard that Jane Southworth had been acquitted. Her maid had confessed that she had been put up to the accusation by a Catholic priest. As Jane Southworth was the only member of her family who was a Protestant, the accusations against her were deemed to be part of a vile papist plot. The Judge commiserated with her and ordered that she be taken home at once.

‘The vilest witches of the earth are the priests that consecrate crosses and ashes, water and salt, oil and cream, boughs and bones, stocks and stones; that christen bells that hang in the steeple; that conjure worms that creep in the field,’ said the Judge.

Alice waited at her window all day until she saw Jane being led out to her carriage. She could barely walk.

‘Jane!’ shouted Alice through the bars of the window. Jane looked up. She could barely see after five months of darkness, disease and malnutrition.

‘He is safe,’ shouted Alice.

Jane stood for a moment, statue-like and motion less, then very slowly she raised her hand.

That evening Alice Nutter had a visitor: Roger Nowell.

‘You are changed,’ he said.

She had not used the elixir. She had not looked in a mirror. Now she took out the tiny mirror from her pocket and stood in the light.

Was that her? Gaunt. Lined. White hair. She was still beautiful, as if there was something trans parent about her, as if her skin were made of leaves that had lain in the sun.

She was an old woman.