Page 33 of The Snow Witch

The third time had been today. She had panicked and shut the door on Charles, saying that a friend was in the cottage with her. She had sat on the floor sobbing, a hot poker in her hand to defend herself with, just in case.

After the second time, Ellen had been grateful.

But now?

The abyss beckoned and she didn’t know which way to fall.

* * *

Nicholson stared at Ellen, saw the terror in her face and considered pressing her for more information. He would be interested in seeing this ‘enchantrix’ they talked about. He guessed the dark-haired woman had tales of her own to tell. But he would leave her alone for now. He would concentrate on this other girl, this Meggie. If that brought no joy, then he could move on to this Ellen creature.

He tried to imagine Ellen naked as he probed her with the needle on the end of his staff in order to find a soft, clean spot to prick her. She had apparently borne three children though, so her flesh could be tarnished with those awful silvery-purple marks across her belly, and her breasts would not be as firm as he might hope. It would not be attractive to see.

She would do as some gentle amusement, he thought, but he would let her go afterwards. Maybe do an extra test on her, so he could watch her blood flow down her white shift, then he would declare her innocent. But he was intrigued by this other girl.

‘Yes! What was that funny word you used, sir? Enchant-something-or-other?’ cried Mary.

The dratted woman was relentless!

‘Enchantrix,’ replied Nicholson, curling his lip with distaste as he looked at this stupid, ill-educated and over-confident wench.

‘Yes. That’s it. She’s an enchantrix.’ Mary put her hands on her hips and nodded. Nicholson had no doubt she didn’t even know what the word meant. ‘Yes, sir. I know what she is now. It makes sense. She does odd things, sir. Has funny beliefs. I can tell you where she might be if you like? If she is not in her cottage up there,’ she pointed towards a rutted, snow-covered track on the edge of the village. ‘Then she will be up by that Well and the old fort, casting spells and cursing us God-fearing people. She tried to force her way into church to a funeral some days ago – to the funeral of the woman she killed. She could not even let her rest. The witch was shrieking curses like the Devil himself was controlling her tongue. Some men had to escort her out.’ Mary crossed herself piously.

Good God.

‘The woman is mad, I tell you. Mad,’ continued the whore.

‘Mad. Or a witch,’ replied Nicholson. He sighed. He was bored now. ‘Brown – find out from this woman exactly where this witch practises the dark arts. We shall track her down and deal with her. Fret not, my dear,’ he said, bowing to Ellen as the stevedore broke away from the procession and dismounted from his horse to speak with Mary. ‘The witch will be given a fair trial. We do not deal in false accusations. We strive to discover the truth. Good day.’

He could practically feel the twenty shillings he would earn from this village in his leather purse. If he didn’t get this enchantrix they were talking about, he would get one of the others. Either the dark-haired one, the hag or the whore. He didn’t care which one. It would be more fun trying the younger ones, though. He looked forward to the challenge.

21

NOW

It was a nightmare come to fruition. Violet was trapped in a dungeon in the dark, and even though part of her could hear Jake talking to her, feel his arms coming around her, she couldn’t seem to stop screaming.

It was pitch-black, it was claustrophobic, and all she could think about were those poor women who had been accused of witchcraft. Had any of them been shackled here? Trapped in this dungeon, shouting for help, crying for their family, and knowing nobody would come?

It didn’t bear thinking about.

Violet was aware of a voice, a male voice, this time, coming through a speaker in the lift. ‘We’ll have you out in a few seconds,’ it said. ‘Power outage. We’ll get the doors opened and you can see a ladder just next to you. If you can climb that, you’ll get into the gift shop. If not, sit tight and we’ll get the emergency services in.’

The very last thing Violet wanted to do was to set foot in that dungeon. It was even more hellish with the lights out, and even though she knew there was a ladder just there, she would have to walk on that uneven floor, set foot in the place where so many people had been crowded into, that lice and plague and gaol-fever were rife and were killers…

‘It’s okay, Vi, they’ll get us out.’ Jake’s voice cut into her thoughts. ‘I’m sorry we’re in here – but it’s an experience, eh?’

He was trying to make light of it, but Violet just squeezed her eyes tighter and shook her head.

‘I can’t. I can’t get out and walk in there and climb up that.’

‘It’s only a couple of steps. Look. I’ll hold your hand. I’ll shove you up first.’ He was trying to make a joke of it, and under other circumstances, yes, she, Violet would laugh and say it was an adventure. But today, after what she had just read in that exhibition, it was, truly Hell.

There was a soft sliding noise as presumably the door from the lift opened, and a gust of cold, stagnant air rushed in, along with a stench of rot, disease and unwashed bodies. The scent of death.

Violet’s stomach churned and she prayed that she wouldn’t throw up.

‘Open your eyes, Vi. There’s a step outside into the dungeon. Then two or three more and we’ll be at the ladder.’ Jake was trying his best.