Snow had all but covered the path, yet still they heard the footsteps.So determinedly, so full of self- importance and greed, they strode their heavy stride. Thunder to their ears.And yet a sense of ending. They knew it would happen sooner, rather than later. For weeks now, they had been shunned, taunted and spat upon by the very people that they considered to be their friends.Mab peered through the sliver of a gap in the threadbare curtains and bowed her head as if, at that very moment, it were ready for the hangman’s noose. Nelly, her mother, fainted clean away, whilst her elder sister Annie, flew, for all she was worth, up the rickety stairs to rouse their little sister from her slumbers. Amy had gone to bed that night, with a rattling, heaving chest and the red flannel poultice had grown cold and clammy to Annie’s touch. The lingering scent of herbs filled her mind with the smells of three decades of summers. She knew she must hide little Annie, the men, in their black cloaks, probably knew nothing of her existence. A sickly child from the start, on just one hand could be counted the number of times she had stepped over the threshold of the tumbledown cottage. As one or the other of the three women were always at home, whilst the others worked at the Manor, the townsfolk were unaware of her too. A hole in the bedroom roof, proved to be the perfect hiding place.It had only been there a matter of weeks, when Greta, the family cat, had fallen through a gap, on the roof and could not be coaxed down.Nelly had cut it with a kitchen knife, just wide enough for Annie’s frail body to be gently lifted and put through, to retrieve the wayward feline.Hurrying, she wrapped the child in a soft, woollen blanket, ran to the scullery and returned with the contents of the larder and pitchers of water from the well.It would not be for long, the court would surely find them innocent and they would all be back together before the little one realised they had even gone anywhere.
It was no use them running, or trying to hide, the Duke was dead, his son, too, and now his wife was ailing fast.The rest of the family needed an answer, as the finest physicians in the county were baffled as to the cause.
They went with dignity, their heads held high, and looking straight into the eyes of those who had come to jeer and heckle.At the first hearing, the accusations were read, that Mab had been found making waxen dolls whilst at the Manor and that the women’s knowledge of herbal remedies, for which many of the townsfolk had been grateful, would also include knowing of deadly potions. Added to the fact that the cat had a name and lived, for the most part, indoors was enough to prove that they were guilty of witchcraft.Mab, told them that the dolls were for a niece, in another county, whose parent had fallen upon hard times and that she had intended to dress them, from scraps of rag, and take them to her.
Annie invited an inspection of their garden to find the deadly herbs and Nelly defended the cat’s indoor living, by telling them that she had been most dreadfully bitten by a neighbour’s dog, that she was too terrified to venture far from their living rooms.
For weeks the women were subjected to the harshest interrogation, beaten and tortured, they did not give in to what, to some, would be the easiest way to end it. Confession did not come easily to women who knew their truth. Death was still their enemy, not their redeemer.
At the final hearing, the priest who had, in days before, been a regular visitor to the cottage, stood to their defence.He could be silent no longer, he knew these women well, and he had watched them over the years and finally spoke out for their freedom.
The rest of the jurors were mindful of his power and it was decided that his words were the truth and that he had been guided by God to speak them.
And so, ugly and twisted, beaten and bruised the three women were freed.Not one single minute had passed without thoughts of Annie, and they feared the worse.Running, without pause, they reached their dwelling.All signs of Annie were gone. Not a crumb, nor a sip, not a blanket or a pillow.Death must have come slowly, she had been so ill when they left and guilt overwhelmed them.Neighbours must have found her body, they thought, and arranged for her burial.But they did not ask, for fear of more accusations.Remaining, for the last of her years, so utterly bereft and sorrowful, Nelly searched every graveyard around the county, for a final closure on her neglect.Some forty years later, frail and tired, she ventured to the next county.Whilst walking along a hedgerow, she happened upon a small fallen down cross, covered in the most vigorously growing Ivy she could not make out the inscription, and had a feeling of being watched by someone.Turning her stiff bones, slowly, she happened upon a beautiful woman, carry a young baby, who was wrapped in the softest and finest, woollen shawl.Their eyes met in knowing.“Mother, my new grandaughter is in my arms and our beloved cat, Greta, is at your feet.....
Copyright Penny Little 2004
It was no use them running, or trying to hide, the Duke was dead, his son, too, and now his wife was ailing fast.The rest of the family needed an answer, as the finest physicians in the county were baffled as to the cause.
They went with dignity, their heads held high, and looking straight into the eyes of those who had come to jeer and heckle.At the first hearing, the accusations were read, that Mab had been found making waxen dolls whilst at the Manor and that the women’s knowledge of herbal remedies, for which many of the townsfolk had been grateful, would also include knowing of deadly potions. Added to the fact that the cat had a name and lived, for the most part, indoors was enough to prove that they were guilty of witchcraft.Mab, told them that the dolls were for a niece, in another county, whose parent had fallen upon hard times and that she had intended to dress them, from scraps of rag, and take them to her.
Annie invited an inspection of their garden to find the deadly herbs and Nelly defended the cat’s indoor living, by telling them that she had been most dreadfully bitten by a neighbour’s dog, that she was too terrified to venture far from their living rooms.
For weeks the women were subjected to the harshest interrogation, beaten and tortured, they did not give in to what, to some, would be the easiest way to end it. Confession did not come easily to women who knew their truth. Death was still their enemy, not their redeemer.
At the final hearing, the priest who had, in days before, been a regular visitor to the cottage, stood to their defence.He could be silent no longer, he knew these women well, and he had watched them over the years and finally spoke out for their freedom.
The rest of the jurors were mindful of his power and it was decided that his words were the truth and that he had been guided by God to speak them.
And so, ugly and twisted, beaten and bruised the three women were freed.Not one single minute had passed without thoughts of Annie, and they feared the worse.Running, without pause, they reached their dwelling.All signs of Annie were gone. Not a crumb, nor a sip, not a blanket or a pillow.Death must have come slowly, she had been so ill when they left and guilt overwhelmed them.Neighbours must have found her body, they thought, and arranged for her burial.But they did not ask, for fear of more accusations.Remaining, for the last of her years, so utterly bereft and sorrowful, Nelly searched every graveyard around the county, for a final closure on her neglect.Some forty years later, frail and tired, she ventured to the next county.Whilst walking along a hedgerow, she happened upon a small fallen down cross, covered in the most vigorously growing Ivy she could not make out the inscription, and had a feeling of being watched by someone.Turning her stiff bones, slowly, she happened upon a beautiful woman, carry a young baby, who was wrapped in the softest and finest, woollen shawl.Their eyes met in knowing.“Mother, my new grandaughter is in my arms and our beloved cat, Greta, is at your feet.....
Copyright Penny Little 2004
1 comment:
lovely! So full of history and family.
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