Page 90 of The Changeling

I beat my wings in protest, cawing.

‘Admit that you stole the knife, witch. Admit you transformed into the shape of a bee so that you could spy on the Regent’s meeting with us.’

Mam laughed. ‘A bee? Are you crazy?’

The trickle of blood quickened.

‘Perhaps it’s her familiar,’ Pastor Malison said, watching avidly. ‘A demon in disguise.’

She turned her eyes towards him. ‘We have long been faithful members of your congregation, sir. How can you condone this rough treatment of me, when I have done naught to deserve it?’

‘Pastor Malison is as eager as us all to see our parish cleansed of wickedness,’ Lord Patrick said.

‘Then you should be looking into your own hearts,’ Mam replied.

Lord Patrick ran the tip of the knife down her throat and into her cleavage, blood following its trail. Then he turned the knife and sliced through the cotton tie so her chemise fell open, exposing the hollow of her shoulder and the curve of her breast.

I shrieked my objection, and some of the men looked about uneasily.

‘Enough, my lord!’ Lord George stepped forward. ‘This has gone too far. That is my knife, as you say, and I would like it back now.’

‘She stole it from you. Do you not wish to see her pay for that?’

‘I must have been mistaken,’ Lord George said steadily. ‘I thought I had lost my knife at the meeting in Dunning, but perhaps it was picked up by mistake by another. Perhaps it was accidentally dropped at Mistress NicNeven’s. That is what must have happened.’

Lord Patrick flung the knife at Lord George’s feet. It stuck into the ground, quivering. Mam flinched.

‘What of the thorn tree, hung with so many ribbons? What spells do you weave with those rags of cloth? Ways of tying a man to you, binding him to your will?’

‘The bairns in the village come and tie clooties to the thorn when they want to make a wish, and so too do many grown-ups,’ Mam said. ‘Your own wife did, when she wanted a babe.’

He struck her again. ‘You lie!’

‘We all know the villagers call that old hawthorn the wishing tree,’ Lord George said. ‘It has had ribbons tied to it since I was a boy. I’d be surprised if your own mother did not tie a ribbon to it when she was a lass.’

‘If it’s just an old tree, why was she so distressed when I chopped it down?’

‘Cut the hawthorn tree, cursed you’ll be,’ Mam replied. ‘Everyone kens that.’

Quite a few of the men in the throng nodded and muttered to each other.

‘She’s a witch! The Regent says so. He named her, and arrested her aunt. He has ordered us to deal with her, and we must do as we are bid.’

‘But there is no evidence,’ Lord George objected.

‘What of your own son?’ Lord Patrick demanded. ‘We all ken her daughter cast a spell on him and made him mad with love for her.’

‘Robbie spurned her!’ Rory burst out from the back of the crowd. I had not known he was there, and twisted my head to glare at him with fierce raven eyes. ‘And now he lies sick and white, and naught we can do will wake him. Mama says he must be poisoned, for he had an empty bottle of their mead in his pocket. We have shaken him, slapped him, shouted in his ear, but he does not even stir.’

‘That is all the proof we need,’ Lord Patrick said in a voice of deep satisfaction. ‘No doubt she cursed him for scorning her daughter.’

‘Or the lass did it herself!’ Pastor Malison cried. ‘She saw him dance and kiss another, and then she lured him away from the fair. We all saw them gallop away together.’

‘It’s a clan of witches,’ Lord Patrick said, ‘and all of them as wicked and dangerous as each other.’

Mam had been crouching down, holding her torn chemise closed, but now she suddenly stood up and tossed back her hair. The men stared at her, unable to take their eyes off her breasts, revealed so clearly through the torn and bloodied linen.

‘My lord,’ she said softly. ‘You shame me before all these men. Will you no’ take me within the church where we can be private? I will tell you what you wish to ken there.’