England, summer 1475
The air felt hot and humid. As she left the village, Lady
Anna Fenwick could hear the rumble of thunder in the
distance. If she was to reach home before the rain came,
then she was going to have to hurry.
Something sharp hit her on the cheek and she heard a
man's whispering voice say, 'Take that, witch! May God
strike you down dead.'
Shock brought her to a halt as blood trickled from a cut
on her face. Only recently had she become aware of the
servants looking at her askance and whispering in corners.
Her heart was heavy as she recalled a couple of village
women holding out horn-shaped amulets, believed to be
effective against the evil eye, as she passed by.
'Murderess! Adulteress!' hissed the voice.
Anna wanted to shut her ears to the accusations. But what
good would that do? She found it difficult to believe that
anyone who knew her could speak of her in such a way. It was
a year since her four-year-old son, Joshua, had died of the
whooping cough. Her grief had been almost unbearable, worse
than when her husband, Sir Giles, had died a year earlier.
During the last few months she had felt ill at ease in her
own home with just the servants and Giles's nephew, the son
of his dead sister, and his wife, Marjorie, for company.
Whilst Giles had been alive, Will's manner towards her had
always been circumspect but she knew he resented her. He had
lived with Giles since being orphaned as a youth and had
been his heir until, at the age of forty, Giles had fallen
in love with Anna and married her. On his death bed her
husband had told her about the marital agreement that he and
her eldest half-brother, Owain ap Rowan, had drawn up on the
eve of Anna and Giles's wedding.
'You'll burn in hell,' said the voice, forgetting to
whisper this time.
She recognised the voice and a shudder passed through
her. Will! What a fool she had been to trust him this past
year, but her sorrow had blinded her temporarily to his
devious ways. He had believed he would inherit Fenwick Manor
on Joshua's death, but he had been mistaken. A codicil in
Giles's will had left all to Anna should aught happen to
their son.
After Joshua had been laid to rest with his father, she
had been emotionally exhausted and hoped that the goodly sum
of money that Giles had left Will would suffice to keep him
happy. She'd had reason to believe that was so, for the
following day he had been so caring that she had willingly
accepted his suggestion that he and Marjorie continue to
live with her to keep her company. Feeling numb after this
second terrible blow, she had been glad of his help in
running her manor. But slowly she had come alive again and
shown a determination to manage her own affairs. It was then
that Will had begun to reveal a much darker side to his
nature and Marjorie had become less than friendly. Yet if
Anna had not overheard the gossip whispered behind her back,
it would never have occurred to her that they might wish her
dead.
'Murderess,' whispered the voice, again.
Her heart beat rapidly. 'Come out of there and face me if
you dare!' she cried.
There was a rustling in the hedge that bordered the field
of ripening corn. 'You'll get your deserts. Like mother,
like daughter, you'll meet the same fate as she did,' called
the voice.
The words puzzled her and she turned full circle in an
attempt to pinpoint Will's location. 'My mother died in
childbirth. Explain yourself!'
'They lied to you.'
'If you're referring to Owain and Kate, I don't believe
you, Will,' said Anna firmly, peering through the thicket of
hawthorn, but unable to see him. 'Anyway, I've had enough.
I'm for home before the storm breaks. You and Marjorie can
pack your bags and leave Fenwick.'
A flash of lightning and a crash of thunder almost
drowned out her voice, warning her that the storm was nigh.
Picking up her black skirts, she raced for home, wanting to
be indoors before the rain came.
She took a shortcut through the herb garden where the
fragrance of lavender, thyme and gillyflowers filled her
senses. The air was stifling and the earth was thirsty for
moisture. She tore open the wicket gate and ran towards the
back of the house. Once indoors she expected to find some of
the servants in the kitchen but it was empty. She searched
the ground floor, but there was no one there. Had they all
decided to desert her whilst she was out of the house? What
about Marjorie, who had still been abed when Anna had left
to walk to the village an hour or so ago? Perhaps she and
her maid were upstairs.
Anna took the stairs two at a time to the first floor but
she saw no one as she made her way along the passage to her
bedchamber. She felt hot and sticky and decided to change
her garments as soon as she was in the safety of its
confines. She pushed open the door and froze as a figure
stepped out of the shadows. There was a crash of thunder and
it seemed to echo the pounding of her heart as she gazed at
the demonic red face with horns protruding from its head. A
red cloak swirled about the black-clad apparition as it
moved towards her. She backed away and would have turned to
run if the door had not slammed behind her.
'Have your way with her quickly and then I'll see she
burns,' said Will's voice behind her.
Terror overwhelmed her as she felt a shove in her back
that catapulted her towards the gruesome figure.
Black-gloved hands seized her, holding her in a vice-like
grip. She was aware of heavy breathing and averted her face.
On doing so, she realised that a couple of inches of flesh
showed between glove and sleeve. This creature was no devil,
but human. Anna sank her teeth into his wrist and drew
blood. A curse issued from beneath the devilish mask and
then he was tearing at her clothes. She struggled violently,
aware of Will's laughter in the background.
'You'll regret this,' she panted, attempting to prise the
man's hands from her breast.
As soon as she spoke those words a flash lit up the
darkened sky outside her window and there was a violent
crash of thunder that shook the whole house. Her captor
jumped violently as there came a roar and a crackle from
overhead. She looked up and saw smoke issuing from a break
in the ceiling. He began to shake and released her abruptly.
She glanced at Will and saw the fear in his face. She put
out a steadying hand to the bedpost and clutched her torn
garments so that they covered her nakedness. 'How dare you
lay hands on me! You will pay for this infamy,' cried Anna,
pointing an accusing finger at him. 'Leave now or it will be
you and your accomplice who will burn.'
Will's eyes darted from her to that devilish figure. Then
he wrenched open the door and shot out of the chamber.
Anna's assailant quickly followed hot on his heels. She
collapsed on to the bed. Her shaking hands still clutching
her ruined gown of black linsey-woolsey. She could hear the
thudding of their feet on the stairs as they made their
escape. For a moment, she did not move and then the smell of
smoke caused her to gaze upwards. More thin streams of smoke
were issuing through other cracks in the ceiling and she
realised the thatch must be alight. She had to get out of
there!
She sprang to her feet, thinking there were items that
were precious to her in this room that she must save, in
case the whole house caught fire. She changed out of her
torn garments and into another gown. She hurried to pack a
few clothes, legal papers, Giles's precious parchments, as
well as items essential for her toilet. Then she fastened a
pouch, containing as much coin as she could carry, about her
waist. The sound of breaking glass, as the window shattered,
caused her to jump out of her skin. She must make haste.
From the chest at the foot of the bed, she took out her
tapestry work and then lifted her lute from the wall. The
instrument had been a Christmas gift from her half-brother
Owain, made in Venice and delivered into her hands by
merchant venturer Jack Milburn. He had vanished whilst in
France six years ago.
Swiftly she wrapped the instrument in the folds of the
tapestry and tucked it under her arm. She gave one last
glance about the room. Here she had spent many contented
moments, as well as heartbreaking ones. Giles had breathed
his last and her son had died in her arms in this bed. With
tears trickling down her cheeks, she hurried from the
bedchamber. With a bundle held up to her nose and mouth
against the smoke, she raced along the passage, only to
pause when she reached the door of Will and Marjorie's
bedchamber.
She could hear snoring and remembered that she had been
going to look in on Marjorie. She banged on their door.
'Marjorie! Is that you in there? Wake up! The roof is on
fire and you must get out of the house.'
There was no reply, but Anna thought she heard a break in
the snoring. She lifted the latch, but the door did not
yield so she banged again. 'Marjorie, you must get up!'
A sleepy voice called, 'Go away!'
'No! Rise and save yourself,' said Anna, attempting to
open the door once more.
'I will not!' Marjorie yawned. 'Will said I must not
listen to aught you say because you will cast a spell on
me.'
An exasperated Anna said, 'It is not true! I don't know
why Will should say such things, but I am no witch. Do get
up or you could die in your bed.'
'I'm not listening,' said Marjorie in a sing-song voice.
'I have my hands over my ears.'
Anna groaned. 'Marjorie, don't be a fool! If you do not
leave now, it could be the end of you.' When there was no
answer, her heart sank. If she herself did not hurry, then
she, too, could be trapped in the house by the fire. What
was Will thinking of to leave his own wife possibly to die
in her bed? And whose face was behind that devilish mask?
She prayed to God to protect her from the pair if they were
laying in wait for her somewhere downstairs, or in the
grounds. She called to Marjorie again but she did not answer
her.
With a terrible sense of foreboding, Anna hurried
downstairs. She went through the hall, but it was deserted.
Cautiously, she entered the kitchen, but that, too, was
empty. She went outside, but there was no sign of anyone.
She placed her belongings outside the stable and then gazed
up at her house. The whole roof was aflame. Pausing only to
remove the veiling that covered her wimple, she soaked it in
a water butt before running back to the house. She had to
try to persuade Marjorie to leave one more time.
Anna covered her nose and mouth with the wet veiling and
hurried upstairs as fast as she could through the
ever-increasing smoke. She found Marjorie lying prone
outside her bedchamber door. She was still alive, but
scarcely breathing. Anna wiped Marjorie's face with the damp
cloth, but still she did not stir. Anna felt a rising panic
and struggled to lift the other woman to her feet, but she
could not do it, so instead she dragged her along the
passage towards the stairs.
Anna's chest was wheezing and she was fighting for breath
by the time she got Marjorie outside. Then she herself
collapsed on to the ground beside her. It seemed an age
before Anna felt able to make the effort to pull Marjorie
farther away from the house on to the grass. There she sank
to the ground again and this time it seemed longer still
before she had the strength to get to her knees. To her
dismay, Marjorie had ceased breathing despite all Anna's
efforts.
She staggered to her feet and gazed at her house; she
could only stand by helplessly as the flames consumed her
home. Her heart felt like a stone inside her. She had loved
this house, but with her husband and son gone from this
earth, it had been a lasting reminder of the sadness of
their deaths. She wept afresh for them and the happy times
spent inside its walls, as well as for Marjorie.
'Why has fate dealt me such agonising blows?' cried Anna
to the skies. Are you punishing me, God?'
No heavenly voice answered her and, frustratingly, the
storm clouds had passed, spilling hardly any rain. But where
was Will and his accomplice? She could not place any faith
in his caring about her safety, but what about his wife? She
doubted he would accept that she had tried to save Marjorie.
Instead, she was convinced he would use that timely flash of
lightning and his wife's death to strengthen his accusation
that Anna was a witch. A chill of fear ran through her. She
had to leave here now, in case the two men returned, and
ride for her old home at Rowan Manor. Owain and his wife,
Kate, had reared her from babyhood and she could trust them
to help her.
Fortunately the fire had not spread to the outbuildings
and she went in search of her saddle and bridle. On finding
them, she paused only long enough to drink some water and
pack her belongings in a pair of saddlebags, before hurrying
to where her horse was cropping the grass in a nearby field.
Nervously, she kept looking over her shoulder. No doubt Will
would realise she had survived the flames when he saw that
her horse was missing. It was possible that he might even
guess her destination and follow her. But hopefully, she
would have enough of a head start to manage to escape his
clutches. Rowan Manor lay several leagues away; although she
felt weary with fear and grief, she prayed that God would
have mercy and enable her to reach Owain and Kate before
nightfall.