Scarlet Widow Read online

  ‘It’s a curse come upon us, Goody Scarlet,’ said Goody Rust, a thin woman in her fifties who had always told Beatrice that she believed in witches. ‘Somebody in this town has sinned and we are all having to pay the price for it.’

  Goody Cutler beckoned Beatrice to a room at the back of the house. It was stifling and dark and Beatrice smelled sickness as soon as she stepped inside. There was one large bed on the left-hand side, covered with a patchwork quilt, where Nicholas and Judith Buckley slept. Against the opposite wall stood two basketwork cribs and in each lay one of the twins. Judith Buckley and one of her cousins were leaning over them and Judith’s cheeks were glistening with tears.

  On the white plastered wall between the cribs a large black cross had been daubed – an inverted cross, over two feet high.

  ‘Oh, Goody Scarlet,’ sobbed Judith. ‘Oh, look at them, my babies!’

  Both children were naked except for cotton clouts. Beatrice remembered that they had been born in late February, so they were just a few days over six months old, although they were very small for their age. Their eyes were closed and they were pale and sweating. Now and then their fingers twitched, as if they were having nightmares.

  ‘There was nothing wrong with them at all this morning,’ said Judith. ‘They were bright and laughing and they took their feed without any trouble. At eleven I put them down for their sleep, but three hours later they still hadn’t woken up, and when I came in to see why they were sleeping for so long, I found that they had both brought up their milk and soiled their clouts. And there was this.’

  She pointed to the upside-down cross.

  Beatrice went up to the wall and examined the cross closely, although she didn’t touch it. It appeared to have been painted with the same tarry substance that had been used to make the hoof marks in Henry Mendum’s pasture and when she leaned closer and sniffed it she detected that same irritating clove-like smell. If the Devil had come into this room to make the Buckley twins sick, then it was the same Devil who had infected Henry Mendum’s cows.

  ‘You saw nobody around the house or on the green?’ she asked Judith. ‘You heard nothing?’

  Judith shook her head. ‘I was baking and then I was mending. Please ask the Reverend Scarlet to come and pray for them. I couldn’t bear it if they died. I think I should die, too.’

  Beatrice looked down at Apphia and Tristram. ‘Try to give them a little water each, Judith. Little and often. Doctor Merrydew will know why they have such a fever and give them a medicine for it, a posset of marigold probably. But water will help for now.’

  ‘They won’t die, will they?’

  Beatrice looked at the cross again. She didn’t fully understand why, but it disturbed her more deeply than any omen had ever disturbed her before. ‘No, Judith, I pray not. But I have a feeling that we are being played with, although I don’t yet know why, or by whom.’

  ‘It’s Satan,’ said Goody Rust from the doorway. ‘Somebody in this village has called on the Devil to take revenge on us, and I know who it is.’

  ‘You have no proof of that, Goody Rust,’ said Judith, in a quiet, panicky voice, almost as if she were worried that they could be overheard.

  ‘What more proof do I need?’ Goody Rust demanded. ‘She has a sharp tongue for everybody and not a week goes by without her making false accusations about this person or that. Only last week she told Roger Parminter that she would see him in hell, for no other reason than his dogs had chased after hers. And what poisonous potions she cooks up in her kitchen, goodness only knows.’

  ‘You’re talking about the Widow Belknap,’ said Beatrice.

  Judith frantically waved her hands to shush her. ‘She’s told me so many times that my babies are unnatural because they had fits when they were being born, both of them, and both stopped breathing.’

  ‘What’s unnatural about that? They both survived, thank God.’

  ‘She said that they should have died, by rights, but that God blew life back into them to show that it was He who decided who was punished, not Satan.’

  Beatrice didn’t ask why Satan should have felt that he was justified in taking the lives of the newly born twins. Unless both had been very premature, Judith would have conceived them while her husband Nicholas was away in Boston for two months on legal business. That was the gossip, anyhow. Nobody had dared suggest it to Judith’s face because Nicholas was so well respected, and so was John Starling, who might well have been the father.

  Beatrice said, ‘Well, Goody Rust, if you’re right about the Widow Belknap, if she really has called on Satan to punish us all for our sins, then all I can say is, may the Lord preserve us.’

  At the same time, however, she was thinking: maybe the Widow Belknap didn’t need to call on Satan. Maybe the Widow Belknap had enough knowledge of poisons to bring sickness and death to the local community without any help from the Lord of the Flies. After all, there were plenty of highly dangerous herbs that were native to New England – herbs that even her father wouldn’t have known about, like Jamestown weed and thorn apple and devil’s trumpet.

  She suddenly thought of her father, and her mother, too, lying side by side in their caskets in St James’s Church in Clerkenwell, and she felt a pang of homesickness and grief that she thought she had long ago managed to bury, and tears unexpectedly sprang to her eyes.

  Fifteen

  Francis must have seen her hurrying down the driveway towards the house because he came out of the front door and walked quickly to meet her.

  ‘Bea, my darling!’ he called out. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘You must come quickly!’ said Beatrice, pressing her hand against her chest to get her breath back. ‘It’s the Buckley twins, Apphia and Tristram! They’re sick close to death and somebody has painted a sign on their bedroom wall, an upside-down cross! Doctor Merrydew was on his way to them, but they need you, too!’

  ‘An upside-down cross?’ said Francis, taking Beatrice by the hand and leading her up to the house. ‘Do they have any idea who painted it?’

  ‘No. But it was made of the same tarry stuff as the hoof prints in Henry Mendum’s meadow. It even smelled the same.’

  Francis obviously didn’t think to ask her how she knew what the hoof prints had smelled like. Instead, he asked, ‘Was anybody seen around the house before the children fell sick? Has anybody made threats against the Buckleys?’

  ‘No. But some of the women are blaming the Widow Belknap. They say that she’s been behaving very vengefully of late, for no particular reason. Well, you said yourself that you heard her singing to her goat. Goody Rust believes that she’s called up the Devil.’

  ‘In that case, I must attend to them at once,’ said Francis. ‘Mary, if you would kindly take care of Noah until we return. Caleb! Caleb!’

  Caleb appeared around the side of the house, his hands full of witchgrass which he had been pulling up out of the garden. ‘Yes, reverend?’

  ‘Please harness Kingdom for us, would you, as quick as you can!’

  After a short while Caleb came back, leading Kingdom at a trot. He harnessed him up quickly between the shafts of the shay and they headed off down the driveway towards the village. Beatrice turned around in her seat to see Noah waving them goodbye.

  ‘There is something very dark happening here!’ Francis shouted over the clattering and creaking of the shay and the syncopated drumming of Kingdom’s hooves on the hard-baked mud. ‘It may not be the Widow Belknap herself who has made the Buckley children fall sick, but as I said before, she could well be one of those weak-spirited people whom Satan picks to manipulate, like a puppet-master makes a puppet dance!’

  Beatrice didn’t reply. She believed in the Devil as much as she believed in God, and she respected Francis’s faith. But the smell of those hoof prints and that upside-down cross had brought back the long-ago smells of her father’s laboratory – coal tar and cloves and civet oil and sulphur. It was hard for her not to wonder if there was a human poisoner at work here r
ather than His Satanic Majesty.

  She said nothing, though, because it was possible that Francis’s appeals to God might well save the Buckley children and she didn’t want him to think that she doubted him, because she didn’t. She didn’t want God to think that she doubted Him, either.

  As they drove around the green Beatrice saw to her surprise that Jonathan Shooks’s black calash was standing outside the Buckley house. Its top was folded down and its two horses were grazing on the grass beside the path. Samuel was holding the horses’ reins and as Francis and Beatrice drew up beside him he lifted his three-cornered hat and gave them a sweeping, exaggerated bow, as if he were imitating his master.

  When they had climbed down from their shay he let out a high-pitched screech and pointed towards the Buckley house.

  ‘Mr Shooks is inside, I presume?’ asked Francis, and Samuel nodded vigorously.

  They went in. The hallway was still crowded with six or seven goodwives, all of whom curtseyed when Francis edged his way past them.

  ‘So glad to see you, Reverend Scarlet,’ said Goody Rust. ‘We need God’s representatives today and no mistake.’

  Inside the children’s bedchamber it was warm and airless and smelled of sick, and something else, like faeces, only sweeter. Jonathan Shooks was standing over Apphia’s crib, his hand pressed against her forehead. He looked up when Francis and Beatrice came into the room and gave them a sad, solemn shake of his head, as if to say that there was very little hope of the children surviving.

  Doctor Merrydew was sitting on the Buckleys’ bed, rummaging in his brown leather bag. He was portly, red-faced, with a bright russet wig that clashed with his cheeks. He was wearing a long mustard-coloured waistcoat with dinner stains on it, and wrinkled white stockings.

  ‘Ah! Reverend Scarlet!’ he said in his hoarse tin-whistle voice. ‘What are we to make of this devilry, then?’

  He nodded towards the inverted cross on the wall behind the children’s cribs. Francis went across to it and stared at it for a few seconds, his eyes narrowed, lifting his hand towards it but not touching it. Then he looked down at Apphia and Tristram. They were both as white as wax and bubbles of pink froth had dried around Tristram’s lips.

  ‘My God,’ he said. ‘I cannot imagine who could have wished these little ones such harm. Whoever it is, though, they are plainly trying to intimidate all of us. First the pigs, then the cattle, now the children.’

  ‘They can’t breathe, can they?’ said Beatrice. ‘What will you give them, doctor? They need something to clear their lungs.’

  ‘I was looking for some fumitory,’ Doctor Merrydew told her. ‘Ah, yes, here it is – I thought I had some. We can burn it here in the children’s bedchamber and it should help their respiration. Quite apart from that, it will exorcize any evil spirits that might still be lurking.’

  He took out a small cotton bag and shook out of it a handful of dry, wispy herbs which looked almost like smoke already. ‘Goody Buckley, would you be kind enough to bring me a plate for burning these in, and a lighted spill? And please tell your girl to wipe that unholy symbol off the wall. I can’t think what foul mixture has been used to paint it, but it smells like the Devil’s own excrement.’

  Beatrice said, ‘Have you no lungwort, Doctor Merrydew?’

  ‘These children don’t need lungwort, Goody Scarlet. Lungwort will only make their breathing more laborious.’

  ‘My father always used to recommend lungwort for people who had fluid on their chests.’

  ‘I’m sure he did, my dear. But lungwort has no spiritual properties, does it, unlike fumitory? It is not only physical sickness that we have to clear from this room, but demonic mischief. You, as a pastor’s wife – you should know that better than most.’

  While Goody Buckley went off to the kitchen to find a plate, Beatrice turned to Jonathan Shooks. He was staring at her just as he had stared at her before when he was taking tea with them at the parsonage. She couldn’t decide if he couldn’t take his eyes off her because he found her attractive, or if he were regarding her with caution, as if her presence threatened him in some way.

  ‘So, what brought you here this morning, Mr Shooks?’ she asked him. The boldness in her voice made him smile, but he didn’t look away.

  ‘I was on my way to the Penacook Inn, Goody Scarlet, which is where I am staying for the time being. I saw these good ladies in obvious distress, so I stopped and asked them if I could help them in any way. But they had already called for the doctor, so it was not for me to intervene.’

  ‘What would you have done, if it had been left to you?’

  He looked down at the children again, and shrugged. ‘Well, I have seen similar symptoms many times on my travels. High fever, trouble with breathing. There are several different cures, depending on what manner of ill spirit has caused the symptoms, and why.’

  ‘So, in your experienced opinion, Mr Shooks, which particular “ill spirit” has made these children so poorly?’

  ‘It is not for me to contradict the good doctor, Goody Scarlet. Nor your reverend husband.’

  Beatrice was about to tell Jonathan Shooks that if he had any idea what had infected Apphia and Tristram, and how to make them well, then he had a duty to tell them. But Francis frowned at her as if to suggest that he didn’t approve of her provoking him and that she should hold her peace. She could almost have believed that Francis was jealous.

  At that moment Goody Buckley brought in a large copper bowl and a burning wax taper and handed them to Doctor Merrydew. He tipped the herbs into the bowl and set them alight. The bedchamber quickly filled with pungent blue smoke, which made everybody cough, including the children.

  Meanwhile, Goody Buckley’s serving girl, Meg, came into the room with a wooden pail of sudsy water and a scrubbing brush and scrubbed the upside-down cross off the wall.

  Jonathan Shooks stayed where he was, next to Apphia’s crib, saying nothing, although it was clear to Beatrice from the expression on his face that he had very little respect for Doctor Merrydew and his fumitory treatment.

  ‘You are going to pray for these children, Reverend Scarlet?’ he asked at last, flapping at the smoke with his hand.

  ‘Of course,’ said Francis. ‘That is why I came here.’

  ‘Well, I very much hope you know what it is that you are praying for. Or, rather, what you are praying against. The good doctor here obviously has no idea or he wouldn’t be choking us all with a herb that was commonly used to exorcize Old World demons, like Asmodeus and Pazuzu, but will have absolutely no effect on New World spirits.’

  Francis glanced over at Beatrice, but Beatrice kept her eyes on Jonathan Shooks and said defiantly, ‘You have come here to pray for Apphia and Tristram, Francis. That’s all. It doesn’t matter what has caused their sickness. All that matters is that they recover. God will listen.’

  Jonathan Shooks raised his eyebrows slightly, but didn’t say anything.

  ‘Please, Reverend Scarlet,’ pleaded Goody Buckley. ‘Please pray for them. I can’t bear to see them suffering like this.’

  Francis bent his head and clasped his hands together and closed his eyes.

  ‘Dear Lord God, whatever unclean spirit has entered our children Apphia and Tristram, we beg Thee to cast it out and to make them well again. We humbly ask also for your protection against those who seek to intimidate us and to make us question our faith. Keep us safe, O Lord, and help us to remain steadfast. And deliver us from evil, amen.’

  ‘Amen,’ said everybody in the smoke-filled room, even Jonathan Shooks.

  Doctor Merrydew closed his leather bag and said, ‘We should leave the children now for three or four hours. By early this evening they should be showing signs of recovery. I will call again before it grows dark.’

  They all shuffled out of the room and outside on to the green. The fumitory smoke billowed out of the hallway after them and was caught in the shafts of sunlight that slanted down through the oak trees.

  Goody Rust came u
p to Francis and said, ‘What about the Widow Belknap? You’re not going to let her go unpunished, are you? The Lord only knows what she might do next.’

  ‘We can’t be sure that it was Widow Belknap who made Apphia and Tristram sick,’ said Francis. ‘I have grave suspicions about her, certainly, but what proof do we have?’

  ‘Huh!’ said Goody Rust. ‘It’s a pity there’s no pond in this village! Otherwise we could duck her and see if she floats! That would be proof enough!’

  Goody Buckley approached them, still coughing from the fumitory smoke. ‘Please, reverend – please make the Widow Belknap lift whatever curse she has put on them. I cannot think how grief-stricken Nicholas will be if he returns from Durham to find our dear twins dead.’

  Beatrice looked across at Jonathan Shooks. He was standing by his calash now, one hand grasping the folded top as if he were ready to climb up into it and leave, and yet he was waiting and listening to what they were saying.

  ‘Reverend Scarlet!’ he called out, as Francis and Beatrice walked over to their own shay.

  ‘Yes, Mr Shooks?’ said Francis, without turning around.

  ‘As I told you, I am staying at the Penacook Inn. So, please, don’t hesitate to send word for me if you need me.’

  Francis didn’t answer, but held out his hand so that he could help Beatrice to climb up into her seat.

  Sixteen

  They drove over to the north-east corner of the village green, to a ramshackle collection of smaller home-lots that belonged to artisans and smallholders and Sutton’s poorer residents. The green here was deeply rutted with cart tracks and pungent with horse manure, but the Widow Belknap’s house stood well back from it. Her triangular front yard was wildly overgrown with flowering weeds – yarrow and dame’s rocket and fleabane, with purple flowers and pink flowers and flowers that looked like enormous white daisies.

  The house itself was five-sided and oddly proportioned, with a lean-to kitchen and dairy at the back. Its clapboards had been painted pale yellow but years of freezing winters and baking summers had cracked and faded them, and the window frames were rotten.