Daughters of the Witching Hill by Mary Sharratt Read Free Book Online Page A

Gabriel, and come with me,
The stick nor the stake have power to keep thee.
    Inside the child was a well of deep cold. My head a-flutter, I held him fast till that ungodly chill drained out of him and into me. Held on to him and chanted till his skin no longer felt clammy, but was warm as bread fresh out of the oven. All my warmth poured into the boy. When I tucked him back into his bed, I was shivery and faint, though sunlight streamed into the close little chamber. Had to hold on to the bedstead to raise myself to my feet. Staggered to the door, then called out to the Holdens, who flew into the room to behold their boy with his new-flushed cheeks and gleaming eyes. The child grasped his mother's hand, told her he would pray to get better and that he wanted to see his father's new calves. I was so weak by then that I had to go down to the kitchen and sit a spell. Liza spoke to me, the Holdens spoke to me, but I hardly knew what they were saying. A bell knelled inside my head. Even when I closed my eyes I saw the brown dog.
    When I could finally stand on my feet again and was well enough to wobble home, Liza had to carry the capon, the dressed hare, and the dozen eggs—a basket in each hand.
    ***
    "How did you do that?" my daughter demanded. First off, she'd thought I was putting on an act like some quack at Colne Market. Now she wouldn't shut her gob about it. "You never did such a thing before."
    I was too drained to speak. Took my last strength to drag myself back to Malkin Tower, where I collapsed upon my pallet. Anyone could see that the illness had left young Matthew only to enter me. Never mind the victuals the Holdens had given us—I could barely swallow a cup of broth. Couldn't rise from my pallet for a fortnight, but I sent Liza to bring the Holdens the lungwort.
    Whilst she was gone, Tibb appeared and let me hold his warm hand for strength.
    "Why didn't you warn me?" I asked him, tears in my eyes. "If I'd known it would be like this—"
    "Would you have refused to bless a sick child? I don't believe that for a moment, my Bess."
    My sight blurred. The way I shuddered and ached, I feared I would never be right again.
    Tibb stroked my hair. "In future, it will be easier on you. You're new to this is all. Lie back and rest, my Bess. You've earned your sleep."
    He covered my eyes with his soft palms, and then I tumbled into a shimmering fever dream. Three paths led off into the bluebell wood. One led to the right, another to the left, but some tug inside made me set off down the middle path as I called out after Tibb, begging him to show himself. Instead I saw a lady come riding upon a white horse. Rapturous lovely, she was, her red-gold hair shimmering like the sun at daylight gate. The woodland rang with the music of the gold and silver bells twined in her horse's lustrous mane. Lifting her hand in blessing, the rider smiled as though she'd known me since I was a babe.
My lady sent me to look after you.
    The haunting chimes of those bells brought back my memories of the old ways. A girl again, I joined the procession round the fields to encourage the corn to grow high. We chanted blessings over the springs to make them pure. Yet when I looked round, I saw no crosses, no priests, just the young maids and the young men wandering off into the fields of waving green barley. Again the lady appeared, riding a graceful circle round me. Fresh and new as unfurling spring leaves, she was, but older even than the popish faith. She was not the Queen of Heaven, but a queen of earth, Queen of Elfhame.

    When the fever broke, Liza was sat beside my pallet with a piece of lamb pie from the Holdens. I fell upon it with a hunger that made her laugh.
    "Little Matthew's well better," she told me. "Today he left his sickbed. Ate at the table with the rest of the family. Stuck his head outside before his mother called him back. Then he was sat with me whilst I was winding wool."
    I smiled. At least my sufferings weren't for nothing. "You