‘I sneaked my shoes into your bag, Tom. Less chance of anyone thinking I’m a witch that way.’
We set off down the hill and soon emerged from the trees onto a grassy slope made slippery by the recent rain. Alice wasn’t used to going barefoot and slipped onto her bottom twice before we reached the first of the cottages and found a gritted track.
Ten minutes later we were in the town, making our way through the narrow cobbled streets towards the harbour. Douglas thronged with sailors, but there were a few women about too, some of them barefoot like Alice – so apart from being the prettiest by far, she didn’t stand out in any way.
There were almost as many seagulls as people and they seemed aggressive and fearless, swooping down towards people’s heads. I saw one snatch a slice of bread from a man’s hand just as he was about to take a bite.
‘Horrible birds, those,’ said Alice. ‘Rats with wings, they are.’
After a while we came to a broad, busy thoroughfare in which every fifth house seemed to be an inn. I glanced through the window of the first tavern. It looked full, but I didn’t realize how full until I opened the door. Warm air and a strong odour of ale wafted over me; the loud, boisterous crowd of drinkers inside were standing shoulder to shoulder. I saw that I would have to push my way in forcefully, so I turned, shook my head at Alice and led the way further down the street.
All the other inns we passed looked equally busy, but then I glanced down a side street that sloped away towards the harbour and saw what looked like another tavern. When I opened the door, it was almost deserted, with just a few men sitting on stools at the bar. I was about to step inside when the proprietor shook his fist at me and Alice.
‘Be off with you! We don’t allow riff-raff in here!’ he shouted.
I didn’t need telling twice – the last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself. I was just about to head back towards the main thoroughfare when Alice pointed in the opposite direction.
‘Try there, Tom. Looks like another tavern further down…’
She was soon proved right. It was right at the end of the narrow street, on the corner, the main door facing towards the harbour. Like the last tavern, it was almost empty, with just a few people standing at the bar clutching tankards of ale. The proprietor looked across at me with interest rather than hostility, and that curiosity quickly decided me – it was better to get out. But just as I turned to go, a voice called my name.
‘Well, if it isn’t Tom Ward!’ And a large red-faced man with side whiskers strode towards me.
It was Captain Baines of the Celeste, the ship that Mam had chartered for our voyage to Greece the previous summer. He operated out of Sunderland Point. No doubt he’d sailed here with a hold full of those fleeing the invaders.
‘It’s good to see you, lad. The girl too!’ he said, looking at Alice, who was standing in the open doorway. ‘Come across and warm yourselves by the fire.’
The captain wore a long, dark, waterproof coat with a thick grey woollen jumper underneath: sailors certainly knew how to dress for cold weather. He led the way back to a bare wooden table in the corner, and we sat down on stools facing him.
‘Are you hungry?’ he asked.
I nodded. I was starving. Apart from a few mouthfuls of cheese, the last thing we’d eaten had been the rabbits that Alice had cooked the previous night.
‘Landlord, bring us two steak and ale pies and make them piping hot!’ he called out towards the bar, then turned back to face us. ‘Who brought you across the water?’ he asked, lowering his voice.
‘We came in a small fishing boat. We were dropped south of Douglas but ran into trouble right away. We were lucky to escape. A man with a club tried to arrest us but Mr Gregory knocked him out.’
‘Where’s your master now?’
‘He’s up on the hillside south of the town. He sent me down to see if I could hire a boat to take us further west to Ireland.’
‘You’ve little chance of that, young Tom. My own ship, the Celeste, is impounded and has armed guards on board. As for the people I brought here, they’re all in custody. Same with the refugees from the other ships. You can’t really blame the islanders though. The last thing they want is for the invaders to come here. They’re scared of witches fleeing the County too – and with good reason. A small fishing boat came ashore to the north. Both crew members were dead – they’d been drained of blood and their thumb-bones cut away.’
At that Alice gave a little gasp. I knew what she was thinking. The Pendle witches would no doubt stay put and wait to see what happened. But this could well be the work of another witch – some would have fled the County – and what if it was Alice’s mother?
What if Bony Lizzie was at large on the island?
We both tucked into our hot steak and ale pies while the captain told us what he knew. It seemed that almost all the refugees were being returned to the County. The leaders of the island’s Ruling Council were afraid that if they weren’t, Mona would be the next place to come under attack.
‘That’s why the Celeste is impounded. Soon I’ll be sailing back to Sunderland Point, returning those who fled to the tender mercies of the enemy. There’ll still be armed guards on board to make sure that I do just that. The only ones who’ll stay here are the witches they find – not that I was carrying any. Mind you, some who aren’t really witches will be tested and found guilty. No doubt innocents will suffer…’
He was referring to what the Spook called the ‘falsely accused’. He was right: no doubt at least one real witch had reached Mona, but many other innocent women would be forced to pay a terrible price for what she’d done.
‘My advice would be to head inland, then towards the south-western coast. There’s a fishing town, Port Erin, and lots of small villages further south on that peninsula. Refugees aren’t likely to put ashore there, so there’ll be fewer people watching out for them. You might get yourselves a passage to Ireland from there…’
‘Sounds like good advice to me, Tom,’ Alice said with a smile.
I smiled back, but then the expression on her face changed to one of fear and horror. She was staring at the door, as if sensing danger.
Suddenly it burst open and half a dozen large men brandishing clubs surged in. They wore leather jerkins with the three-legged insignia – yeomen. A tall man with a dark moustache and carrying a sword at his hip – clearly their leader – followed them inside. They all halted near the door, their eyes sweeping the room, looking at the occupants of each table as well as those standing at the bar. It was then that I noticed they had a prisoner.
He also wore a leather jerkin with the badge. It accentuated his bulk; he was tall and very thick-set. Why would they hold one of their own captive? I wondered. What had he done wrong? Then I saw that the man was bound, but in a strange, cruel way. A length of fine silver chain ran from each ear to the hands of the two guards who flanked him. His ears had been pierced very close to his head and the holes through which the chains passed were red and inflamed.
The prisoner sniffed loudly three times and spoke, his voice as harsh as a file rasping against metal. ‘I smell woman! There’s a woman here, Commander Stanton,’ he said, turning towards the tall man with the moustache.
The guards all stared at Alice. She was the only female in the room.
The prisoner started to approach our table, the two flanking guards keeping pace, with Stanton further to one side. As he did so, I noticed two things simultaneously: the first was that he was blind, his eyeballs milky-white; the second sent a tremor of fear down my spine and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
He had dark, curly, matted hair – more like the hide of an animal than human hair. Through it, very high on his forehead, protruded two very short curved horns. They were white, and each came to a sharp point. This wasn’t a man; it was an abhuman, the result of a union between the Fiend and a witch.
‘This is no woman!’ laughed Stanton. ‘It’s just a scrawny girl with dirty feet. Try again!’
This time the abhuman didn’t sniff; he just peered at Alice as though his blind eyes could actually see her. A puzzled expression creased his face.
‘Well, come on,’ the commander demanded in an impatient voice. ‘Is the girl a witch or not?’
‘She has darkness inside her!’ cried the abhuman. ‘Dark power!’
‘Well, that’s all we need to know! Seize her, lads!’ he cried, and two men stepped forward and dragged Alice off her stool. She didn’t try to struggle – her eyes were wide and filled with fear.
I knew just one thing – wherever they took Alice, I had to go too. If she was separated from the blood jar, the Fiend would take his revenge on her. However, as it turned out, I didn’t need to do anything.
‘Check the other two!’ Stanton commanded. ‘They were talking to a witch. Could be they’re in league together. Maybe one of them’s a warlock…’
The abhuman looked at Captain Baines next. ‘No darkness here,’ he growled.
‘What about the boy, then?’
Now it was my turn, but after studying me with his blind eyes, the creature looked even more puzzled. His mouth opened twice to reveal two rows of sharp yellow teeth, but no words came out.
‘We haven’t got all day. What’s the problem?’
‘A sliver of darkness is buried deep within his soul. A very small piece…’
‘It’s enough! Bring him along!’ snapped Stanton. ‘It’s a long time since we tested a male witch. They’re very rare.’