The Witch From The Sea Part 53

Once when we were riding I saw a woman hurry away as we went by, averting her eyes from Carlotta, and I exulted because it seemed to me that the seeds I had sown were sprouting.

Bastian had left the next day. I don't think he could bear to be in the same house with Carlotta and me together. When he left I did not say goodbye to him but kept out of the way, though I watched him ride off from one of the turret windows and saw how he kept looking backwards, for a last glimpse of Carlotta, I thought angrily.

Sometimes when I was in my room I would be frightened at what I was doing. I wanted to kill Carlotta but not in a straightforward way, since I planned that others should do it for me. It was cowardly, because I was planning it so that when it happened I could pretend it had nothing to do with me.

Then when I was with her I would say to myself: She deserves it. There is something wicked about her ... something evil. I believe she is a witch, for only a witch could have taken Bastian from me, and if she is, it is better that she be removed.

n.o.body could deny her beauty. It was not beauty which is a joy to behold and is the outward manifestation of inner goodness. I always thought my mother was beautiful in that way. Carlotta's was a beauty which came from the Devil-meant for the destruction of those about her. At least, that was what I told myself.

Her mother Senara was proud of her, but I didn't think she loved her; and I was certain that Carlotta loved no one but herself. Indeed, sometimes I used to think that if Bastian married her that would be sufficient punishment for his treatment of me.

The servants did not like Carlotta. She was too arrogant with them, reminding them always that she was the great lady and they beneath her notice, except for what they could do for her. She and her mother shared a Spanish maid whom they had brought with them. Ana was a woman in her mid-thirties, dark-haired, with a faint line of black hairs on her upper lip, and deep-set eyes. She was very quiet and I had never heard her speak, but I imagined she was efficient and an excellent lady's maid, for the manner in which she dressed Carlotta's hair was a wonder in itself. Silent-footed, almost mouse-like, one was hardly aware of her. She slept in a small ante-room adjoining Carlotta's bedroom.

When my parents returned and Sir Gervaise with his manservant and two grooms moved into Trystan Priory, life changed. We were now living in greater style, for to have a man such as Sir Gervaise in the house made that a necessity. His business, he told my father, would take up a whole week, he believed, and if he could intrude on Landor hospitality all that time he would be gratified.

Of course we welcomed him. My father was delighted, for Sir Gervaise was as deeply involved with the Company as he was himself.

They rode out together, and were closeted together and talking a great deal. They went down to the sea and inspected my father's s.h.i.+p; they discussed the cargoes he had brought back and were constantly in each other's company.

Meals had become ceremonial occasions. Not only was Sir Gervaise our guest but also Senara and Carlotta, and there was no doubt that our society had become much more grand and sophisticated by these arrivals.

There was a great deal of talk about the Court, and in this Sir Gervaise, Senara and Carlotta had a good deal in common, since they had all moved in Court circles, and though Sir Gervaise was connected with Whitehall and Senara and her daughter with Spain, there had been a connection between the two Courts when the King-Prince, as he was then-had visited Spain in order to arrange a marriage between himself and the King of Spain's sister.

Sir Gervaise told us that as a boy of eighteen he had had a small role in the King's entourage and it seemed very likely that he and Senara had actually been at the same functions. Senara had met King Charles on one occasion. She said this was before his father's death when he was but a prince, though heir to the throne, and she had thought him a handsome man, though smaller than was becoming in a king. He had great charm of manner, however, and being young and handsome created quite a good impression.

'Of course,' she said, 'he was more interested in getting help for his sister Elizabeth and her husband Frederick, who had lost his country, than he was in marriage with the Infanta.'

'The King saw the present Queen at the French Court when he pa.s.sed through Paris,' Sir Gervaise told us, 'but of course she was but a child then, and he did not give her a second glance.'

'It's strange,' said my mother, 'that fate doesn't give us a little nudge when we are face to face with a situation or a person who is going to change our lives.'

'You ask too much, my love,' said my father.

'There are some people who say they have premonitions,' suggested Senara, and admitted, 'I do now and then.'

'Is it because your mother was a witch?' I asked.

There was a silence at the table. My mother was frowning.

'Oh, that's all nonsense, Bersaba,' she said. 'I can't think where you hear these things.'

'But it's true, isn't it?'

'It was said that she was,' Senara told us. 'That was when she was here. It was never mentioned when I joined her later.'

'People build up these fantasies,' said my mother. 'I am glad they are not talking of such things nowadays. They're ... unhealthy.'

I noticed that the servants who hovered about the table were listening. They would repeat in the kitchen what they had heard in the dining hall. They would remember the witch who had come to Castle Paling and disappeared. That she now lived in Spain would not make her any less of a witch in their eyes.

I watched Carlotta. How beautiful she was! Angelet looked insignificant beside her-and that meant I did too. I had noticed that Sir Gervaise was aware of her-so was she of him, and it was as though she was sending out her tentacles to draw him into her net just as she had Bastian. I noticed how often he addressed his remarks to her.

After supper my father and Sir Gervaise went off together. They had so much business to discuss, and my mother told me that it had something to do with the Hoogly factory that was going to be built. 'They are worried, of course,' she said, 'because there is so much conflict between the King and the people. The fact that he rules without a government is amazing to me. Sir Gervaise says it can't go on like this. There'll be some sort of climax, and heaven knows what will happen when that comes.'

I said: 'Do you think we shall feel it here, Mother?'

'My dear child, we could not escape. This s.h.i.+p money is really worrying the people at Plymouth, and this certainty that he rules by divine right and is therefore justified in everything he does, is making the King enormously unpopular.'

'What does Father think will happen?' I asked.

'That there will have to be an understanding sooner or later. The King will have to change his ways. He is being harsh to the Puritans and it is said that he is influenced by his Catholic wife. I don't like the way things are going, but let us hope they will be put right in time. By the way, I want to talk to you, Bersaba. There was something that was said at supper ... about witches.'

'Oh yes, Mother.'

'I don't want the subject encouraged. I believe it was you who brought it up.'

'Was it?' I asked, my voice mildly interested.

'I'm sure of it, dear. I've never liked to talk of it. I can't ever forget the day they came for my stepmother.'

'What happened, Mother? Was it very terrible?'

'Yes, it was. I hate to recall it. I dreamed about it for a long time afterwards ... until I was married to your father, in fact. I would see that procession in my dreams-lighted torches, chanting voices and the callous, cruel, gloating, lewd faces of the people marching on the Castle. I never want to see the like again.'

'Do you think interest in witches has come back?'

'Never say such things. Has Senara been talking to you?'

'No, Mother.'

'I remember when she was young she was constantly talking of witches and reminding people that her mother was suspected of being one. She didn't realize how dangerous it was then. It could still be.'

'We haven't heard much talk of it, Mother.'

'It's there, though ... sleeping ... ready to be awakened. People still believe in it, but we have never encouraged it. I don't want people talking about witches just because Senara has come back. So Bersaba, please ... if anyone speaks of it brush it aside. I don't want a return of what happened before.'

'Of course, Mother,' I said.

'You see, my dear, hysteria can so easily be whipped up. Then ignorant people get together and fan the flames ... you see what I mean.'

'Yes, I do. They could march to Trystan Priory just as they marched that night to Castle Paling. They still hang and burn witches; they still tie their arms and legs together and throw them into the sea or the river or any pools deep enough to drown them.'

'We'll not think of it. We'll not mention it. If you hear any of the servants talking, stop them. They may well talk, because they remember Carlotta's grandmother. I don't want them to, Bersaba.'

'I will remember that, Mother,' I said ambiguously, and I wondered whether she would notice my excitement.

As I went up to my room I saw one of the maids on the stairway. She was holding a kerchief in her hand.

'This was dropped by the lady Carlotta,' she told me.

'Oh, why do you not take it to her then?' I asked.

The maid looked furtive. 'I be feared to, Mistress Bersaba.'

'Why?'

The girl cast down her eyes.

'Why? Why?' I demanded.

She couldn't say. I took the kerchief from her. 'Are you afraid she's a witch and might ill-wish you?' I asked.

'Oh I dursen't say that, Mistress Bersaba.'

The suspicions were spreading fast, I thought exultantly, and said: 'Give it to me. I'll take it to her room. I'll say a prayer as I cross the threshold. That's what you have to do isn't it?'

'I do believe so, mistress, but it would be hard to bring myself to ...'

'All right, don't worry. I'll take it.'

I seized the kerchief and went to the room which I knew to be Carlotta's. I knocked, and as there was no response I opened the door cautiously and went in. On the bed lay her nightgown, silk with a thousand frills. How beautiful she would look in it with her dark hair hanging about her shoulders. A soft perfume hung about the room. The fact that it was temporarily Carlotta's had changed it subtly.

I went quietly to the bed and picked up the nightgown. I held it against me and imagined that Bastian was coming in and I was his bride. Then the picture changed from me to Carlotta and the wild misery seized me.

I was suddenly aware of being watched. I turned sharply. The door of the ante-room was open and Ana was standing there.

'Is there anything you want-' she asked in her halting English.

'I brought your mistress's kerchief which she had dropped. There it is on the table.'

Ana bowed her head. I felt foolish standing there holding the nightdress about me, so I said: 'It's beautiful, this nightdress.'

'I make it,' said Ana.

'Congratulations. You must be a magician with your needle.'

The dark eyes seemed to be probing my mind. I felt mentally exposed, as though this woman read what was in my mind: all my hatred of Carlotta; all my desire for revenge.

She came forward silently and, taking the nightdress from me, laid it on the bed.

She's uncanny, I thought. It's almost as though she knows what's in my mind. And she will be a watchdog.

The next day I disobeyed orders and again rode out alone. I didn't want anyone with me because I wanted to think. Revenge! It filled my mind, and I thought how clever I was to have formulated a plan which would exonerate me while it utterly defeated my enemy. All my love and longing for Bastian was lost in this new emotion.

I had not gone very far when I noticed that my mare seemed to be going lame, so I dismounted and discovered that she had cast a shoe. By good fortune I was less than a mile from the smithy, so I decided to take her along without delay.

I talked soothingly to her as we went along and in a short time we arrived. Neither Angelet nor I enjoyed our visits there, for the smith was not the most pleasant of men. He was a man of considerable height and girth, and we always said that the Devil must look something like him when he stood over his furnace, looking as though he would like to cast into it all the sinners of the neighbourhood to their eternal torment.

Thomas Gast was a fierce man; he preached every Sunday in one of the barns not far from the smithy, and a number of the villagers went to hear him-not so much to agree with his doctrines as to s.h.i.+ver at his fierce language. For Thomas Gast was a Puritan. He believed that pleasure was sinful. I used to misquote to Angelet: 'There is more joy in Thomas Gast over one sinner who earns eternal d.a.m.nation than a thousand who repent in time.'

My parents were uneasy because of his fiery preaching which they feared might bring trouble to the neighbourhood. They believed that every man had a right to his opinions on the manner in which G.o.d should be wors.h.i.+pped, but it seemed to them the wise way was to keep one's thoughts to oneself. Thomas Gast was not like that. He was a man who believed firmly that Thomas Gast was right and everyone who disagreed with him in the slightest detail was wrong. Moreover, he was not content to leave them in their ignorance. He would chastise them with words and-if he got the opportunity, as he did with his own family-with a leather strap.

He had ten children-and they and their poor little mother lived in fear lest they incur his wrath by an ill-chosen word or some action which could be construed as sinful.

He was a most uncomfortable man, but, as my father said, the best smith he had ever known.

When I took in my mare he looked at me with disapproval, I presumed because I was wearing my riding-hat at too jaunty an angle, or perhaps my contemplation of revenge had made me appear to cherish a zest for life. However, my appearance displeased him.

I told him what had happened and gently he examined the horse. He nodded grimly.

'If you could please shoe him right away I'd be glad,' I said.

He nodded again, looking at me with his bright black eyes. I could see the whites round his pupils, which made him look as though he was staring like Grandfather Casvellyn-and a little mad. He was a fanatic, and when people carry their fanaticism as far as he did, perhaps that could be construed as madness.

I said, 'It's a beautiful morning, Thomas. It makes you feel good to be alive on such a day.'

It really wasn't good at all with Bastian's deceit so recent, but there was in me a grain of mischief and I knew that anyone's finding pleasure even in G.o.d-given nature would fill Thomas Gast with the desire to rant.

'You should be thinking of all the sin in the world,' he growled.

'What sin? The sun is s.h.i.+ning. The flowers are blooming. You should see the hollyhocks and sunflowers in the cottage gardens. And the bees are mad with joy over the lavender.'

'You're a f.e.c.kless young woman,' said Thomas Gast. 'If you don't see the blackness of sin all around you you'll be heading for h.e.l.l fire.'

'Well, Mr Gast,' I said mischievously, 'so many of us are. You seem to be the only one who is without sin. You'll be very lonely when you get to Heaven.'

'Don't 'ee joke about matters as is sacred, Mistress Bersaba,' he said sternly. 'You be watched and all your sins be noted. Never forget that. All your jesting mockery will be recorded and one day you'll answer for it.'

I thought then of lying in the woods with Bastian, and I knew that Thomas Gast would consider this a cardinal sin which could only earn eternal d.a.m.nation, and for a moment I trembled, for there was something about Thomas Gast which made one believe, while one was in his company, that there might be something in his doctrines.

I watched him, his strong face flushed by the furnace, his gentleness with the horse-the only time he was ever gentle was with horses-and he began to declaim as though he were addressing an audience in the barn. The day of judgment was coming. Then those who now strutted in their finery would be cast into utter despair. The torments of h.e.l.l were beyond human imagination. He licked his lips.

I think he saw himself as one of G.o.d's executioners-a role, I decided, which would suit him very well.

I grew weary of his diatribe, and interrupting it I said I would stroll off and return when the horse was shod.

So I left the smithy and looked at the gardens in the little row of cottages. There were six of them-all built of the grey Cornish stone which was a feature of the countryside; they had long gardens in front and a patch behind in which most of them grew vegetables or kept a goat or a pig. But the front gardens were full of flowers, with the exception of the blacksmith's. He grew vegetables in his, and at the back, pigs were kept. I had been inside the cottage once when the latest Gast was born and my mother had sent Angelet and me over with a basket of good things. Everything in the house was plain and for use, not for ornament. The girls of the household-there were four of them-always wore black garments with collars tight at the neck; so did their mother. Their hair was hidden by caps so that it was not easy to tell which was which. Angelet and I were always sorry for the Gast children.

As I came round by the cottages I saw one of the girls in the garden; she was weeding. I had heard that they all had their tasks and if these were not done to their father's satisfaction they were severely beaten.

As I approached I called good morning and the Gast girl straightened up and spoke to me. I looked at her steadily and guessed her to be the eldest girl. She was about seventeen-my age. I noticed how she took in my riding-habit, which must have seemed as elegant to her as Carlotta's did to me.

'Good day, mistress,' said the girl.

I was very curious to know what life was like lived in the blacksmith's house. I could of course imagine to a certain extent, and I pictured myself in such a position. If I had been his daughter I would have defied him, I was sure.

'You work very hard,' I said. 'Which one are you?'

'I'm Phoebe, mistress, the eldest.' Her eyes filled with tears, and I said suddenly: 'You're unhappy, aren't you?'