The Witch from the Sea (41 page)

Jennet told me that in the days before that Hallowe’en when my mother brought the woman who was to replace her into the house, the servants used to make a large bonfire which was said to keep off witches; and when it was burnt out they would scramble for the ashes which they would preserve to keep off the evil eye.

The castle was filled with the autumnal shadows; when I awoke in the morning and looked out to sea there would often be nothing but a wall of grey mist. I pitied sailors in such weather and I thought often of Fenn and wondered when he would be home.

I used to make sure that the lanterns in the Seaward and Nonna Towers were always alight.

The day came bringing with it an air of excitement. My stepmother seemed to glide rather than walk about the castle. There was a secret smile on her face as though she knew everyone was expecting something to happen and she was at the heart of it.

The drama came at supper. Senara was missing. When she failed to appear at the supper table I began to be alarmed. She was often late; but never for meals where my father would be. Unpunctuality infuriated him and anyone who could not be at the table was sent away without food and often cuffed for it.

My father noticed her absence but did not comment. If she failed to put in an appearance she would go without her supper. My stepmother showed no anxiety but then she never did show very much.

After the meal she was still missing and I began to be frightened.

I went up to our bedchamber.

“Have you seen Mistress Senara?” I asked Merry.

She shook her head. “She went off early in the afternoon.”

“Went off,” I said. “Where?”

“She were on her horse, Mistress Tamsyn, Jan saw her riding away from the castle as though she were possessed.”

I wished they would not use such expressions and on Hallowe’en of all times. It was easy to see how their minds worked. For them my stepmother was still the witch to be placated and feared; and Senara was her daughter.

“When was this?” I demanded.

“Early this afternoon.”

“Did she say where she was going?”

“No, Mistress. She just put on her riding clothes and her best hat with the blue feathers and went off.”

“Which of the grooms were with her?”

“Well, Mistress, I did see none of they.”

I thought: She has gone off alone!

Although we knew most of the neighbouring squires, their families and retainers, robbers lurked on the roads and we were forbidden to ride without at least two grooms.

Yet she had gone off alone and on Hallowe’en.

I went up to the ramparts of Nonna’s Tower and looked out. If it had been daylight or a clear moonlit night I might have been able to see something. On such a night as this I could see very little but the four towers of the castle.

I went down, very anxious. She had gone riding alone that afternoon. Anything could have happened to her.

I went to find my father and stepmother. I must tell them that Senara had not merely missed her supper but that she was not in her bedchamber either and something must be done about it.

As I came down to the hall I heard arrivals in the courtyard. With great relief I hurried out. One of the grooms was holding a lantern and I saw a strange man on a horse.

My father was greeting him and my stepmother was with them.

“Come into the castle,” said my father. “You must be weary.”

I said: “Father, Senara is not in the castle.”

“I know, I know,” he said. “This good gentleman has ridden here to tell us she is safe. Tell the servants to bring mulled wine and refreshment for he needs to revive himself.”

Relief filled me as I ran off to do his bidding.

The gentleman was Carl Deemster and he had recently bought, from Squire Northfield, a mansion some five miles inland. He had come from Lincolnshire with his family two years before. He was rather sombrely but neatly dressed and his accent was unfamiliar to me. He explained that Senara had lost her way and called at his house. The mist had arisen and it was growing dark and his wife had invited her to stay the night while he rode to the Castle to tell us that Senara was safe.

My father was very hospitable. He said that the mist was thick and it would not be an easy journey back. The kind Carl Deemster must spend the night at the castle and supper must be brought for him immediately and a room prepared.

This was agreed upon. Our guest ate very sparingly and drank nothing but he and my father seemed to find a great interest in each other.

Carl Deemster talked about the sea and clearly knew something of ships.

When I went up to my bedchamber the mist had penetrated into the room. It seemed stark and empty without Senara. Merry came in to put my things away.

“So she be safe,” she said. “I thank God for it.”

“Of course Senara is safe,” I cried. “What did you think?”

“It being Hallowe’en I did wonder. And her going off. Jennet said it reminded her …”

“Jennet,” I said, “is always being reminded.”

“She said it was such a day when the mistress went away.”

“You mean …”

Merry crossed herself. “I mean the mistress … she who is mistress now. She came on Hallowe’en and she went on Hallowe’en. You were but a baby at the time as it was years ago. And we thought that Mistress Senara, being her daughter and none knowing where she came from …”

I was always uneasy when the servants talked of Senara’s background. I could never hear the word witchcraft when I did not fear for her. She was in a way to blame. There would always be mystery attached to her mother but Senara nourished it. Even on this occasion she had to get lost on Hallowe’en. It was almost as though she wanted to be accused of witchcraft. Did she not realize how dangerous this could be?

My uneasiness stayed with me. I was longing to get through the night and be united with her. I wanted to hear how it was she had managed to get lost on Hallowe’en.

I was up early in the morning and so was our guest. He had broken his fast with a goblet of home-brewed ale and meat and bread and told me that he wished to leave early. He was sure that his wife would realize that he had spent the night with us on account of the mist, but he would like to return to Leyden Hall as soon as possible for she might be anxious if he were late.

I asked if I might ride with him. We could take two of our grooms and bring Senara back with us.

He said his wife would be delighted and so it was arranged.

It was a beautiful morning when we left. The mist had lifted and the air was balmy. We rode inland through lanes and across meadows and finally we came to Leyden Hall, a charming old house, built I should say at the beginning of Queen Elizabeth’s reign—about the same period as Lyon Court and very like it in style, with its vaulted roof and wings on either side.

But how different was Leyden Hall from Lyon Court, with its ornamental gardens where peacocks strutted symbolically. My grandfather and his father had loved ostentation. It always seemed to me that everything at my grandfather’s home was meant to impress. I was immediately struck by the simplicity of Leyden Hall. I had been to this house when it belonged to Squire Northfield. What a different place it had become. There were no pictures on the walls, everything that was decorative had been taken away. I met the mistress of the house, Priscilla Deemster; her gown was of a simple calico material which came from Calicut in India—clean and neat without lace or ribbons. She greeted me with a show of friendship plainly expressed. I felt that I was in the kind of household I had never seen before.

The Deemsters had two sons who were both married and lived with their wives at Leyden Hall. They were all dressed in the same simple manner. Among them Senara looked like one of the peacocks of Lyon Court in her blue riding habit. I had rarely seen her as lovely or as excited as she was then. Her beauty was as breathtaking as that of her mother.

“We were so anxious about you,” I told her.

“It was the mist,” she said and there was a lilt in her voice. “It has been a wonderful experience for me. I have been so comforted in this house.”

Her voice had taken on a tone unusual with it and which somehow belied the sparkle in her eyes.

“I am so sorry to have caused you anxiety,” she said. “Master Deemster out of the goodness of his heart so kindly offered to let you know.”

“It was indeed kind,” I said.

As it was nearly noon I was invited to dine with the family and I gratefully accepted this. I was very interested in this household and I particularly wanted to know why Senara was so pleased with her adventure.

The table was set on trestles in the great hall which I remembered as being so grand in the time of the Northfields. The food on it was simple. It mainly comprised vegetables which were grown in the gardens—and there was salted pig. Here the whole of the household congregated—every man and woman in the household—and then I understood Senara’s elation, for seated at the table was Richard Gravel, Dickon, her one time music master.

Senara looked at me mischievously.

“You remember Dickon.”

He smiled at me. He had changed as much as this house had. He had been rather dandified, delighting as he did in his music and dancing. Now he was dressed in a plain jerkin, short trunks of a brown material and his long hose were of the same shade. His hair which had been wonderfully curling was now cut short and flattened about his head as though he were ashamed of its beauty. He had been fun-loving and bold; now his eyes were downcast and there was an air of modesty about him which I could not entirely believe in.

We sat down and grace was said. It seemed a long time before our host finished his exhortations to us to be grateful.

The pork was not very appetising and I secretly was not all that grateful for it. We ate very well at home and always in the most tasteful manner, and there was invariably a variety of dishes to choose from.

Dickon told me during that meal what he must already have told Senara.

When he had been turned out of our house, “and rightly so,” he said in his new-found humility, “for I ill repaid my master, I knew not where to go. For two days I trudged the countryside and had but a crust all that time. I was wondering where I should find another bite to eat, and feeling faint and hungry I settled into a hedge and there awaited some evil fate to overtake me. As I lay there, unkempt and famished, a man came along the road. He too was without means of sustenance; hungry and footsore. He told me that he was going to call at Leyden Hall for the gentleman and lady who now lived there would never turn any away. I said I would perforce go with him and so I came.”

Senara was watching him with an intentness she rarely displayed.

“When I felt the goodness, the serenity of this household which was unlike anything I ever knew before, I asked if I might stay here in any capacity whatsoever,” went on Dickon.

“You do not teach dancing and singing?”

“Nay, nay. That is over. It is all part of my sinful past life. Such frivolities find no favour in the sight of heaven. I shall never sing and dance again.”

“That’s a pity! You did them so well.”

“Vanities,” he said. “Here I tend the gardens. The vegetables you are eating have been grown by me. I work with my hands for the good of the house.”

“You see,” said Senara, “Dickon has become a good man.”

It came to me to say that although attempting to seduce his master’s daughter might not find favour in the sight of Heaven, I did not believe there was anything wrong in singing and dancing. Did not the angels sing? But I made no comment. We had received excellent hospitality at the hands of this family; and our host had had the courtesy to ride over to us and inform us that Senara was safe with them. I did not wish therefore to say anything which might be hurtful to them.

I could see that they believed firmly in their doctrines and such people could easily be hurt and possibly angered by those who disagreed with them.

When we had eaten, Senara and I prepared to ride back. It was still only one o’clock for they did not sit over their meals as we were inclined to do. I gathered that eating here was not to be regarded as a pleasure but a necessity. Our horses, fresh for the ride back, were brought to us and with many thanks we left them.

Senara and I rode together—two grooms ahead of us and two behind.

“Now,” I said, “I should like an explanation of how that came about.”

Senara opened her eyes very wide and smiled sideways. “I have told you. I was lost in the mist. I came to Leyden Hall and explained my predicament. I was made welcome and as I was not allowed to find my way home alone I stayed here. You know the rest.”

“It seems to me a strange coincidence that you should be lost near the house in which Dickon is a servant.”

“Life,” said Senara demurely, “is full of strange coincidences.”

When we reached the castle the servants looked at Senara with awe. I saw one of them cross herself when she thought we were not looking. This sort of thing disturbed me and filled me with a vague apprehension.

Senara did everything to encourage it which I thought very reckless of her.

“Why,” she cried to one gaping serving-girl, “did you think I’d flown off on my broomstick?” Then she went close to her and narrowed her eyes so that the girl grew pale. “Perhaps next Hallowe’en I might.”

When we were alone in our bedchamber I admonished her, but she laughed at me. She was excited as I had rarely seen her.

“Imagine Dickon a puritan!”

“Is he sincere, do you think?”

“Dickon is always sincere. He believes wholeheartedly in everything he does … at the moment. That is what I like in him. He made me feel that I could be a puritan too.”

“You, Senara! You are a pagan, which is the very opposite.”

“I could change,” she said, “perhaps. He talked to me about it. It is inspiring … in a way.”

“Inspiring to you! I never knew anyone who loved finery as you do. One day you want to be a witch. The next a puritan!”

“Dickon talked to me about the sect. They are very noble. The Deemsters are fond of him. They love converts. You see, when he went there he was such a beautiful young man, with his feet firmly planted on the road to hell. They have saved his soul. You know how attractive anything that you have saved is.”