Ruth Warburton - Witch Hunt

‘What?’ He moved across the forge and snatched up her hand. She was right. The ring, previously just too narrow to get past her knuckle, but loose enough to turn, was now so tight he couldn’t move it, though her skin was slick with blood. ‘Are you sure? Couldn’t it just be your finger’s swollen?’

She shook her head.

‘My finger’s been swollen ever since I tried to take it off yesterday. That’s not it – this is different. I felt it tighten when you tried to clip it. It was like it . . . knew.’

They looked at each other, and Luke saw his own fear and doubt reflected back in her eyes. He opened his mouth, trying to think of something to say that would reassure her, something that would get them out of this unholy mess – when he heard a noise in the yard. He stiffened and then, as the forge door latch began to rattle, he pushed her roughly down behind the big stone hearth and stood in front of her, his heart banging in his throat, waiting to see who would come through the door.

It was William’s voice he heard as the door began to swing open.

‘Whoever you are, messin’ about in my forge, I’ll have your – eh?’

William stood in the doorway, his hair rumpled from his bed, his boots on beneath his nightgown.

‘Luke! What are you doing here at sparrow fart, lad? I thought you were abed.’

‘I couldn’t sleep.’ It was almost true, after all. He hadn’t slept, though in truth he hadn’t had the chance.

‘But . . .’ William took a step forward into the forge, towards where Rosa was hiding. Luke held his breath and prayed. ‘Your coat, it’s all charred and burnt. What happened? Were you in a fire? You stink of smoke . . . and summat else. Where’ve you bin?’

‘I’ve been to the Cock Tavern.’ That was true too, but it was not the truth. ‘There was a fight.’ Another truth, another twist. ‘I got pushed into a street brazier, boy selling chestnuts.’ Lies . He felt sick with deception.

‘But your skull, lad! You shouldn’t be drinking and brawling. You’re not two days out of bed!’

‘I know.’ Luke clenched his fingers inside his coat pockets, begging William in his head to leave, begging him to go and stop asking questions. He could hear Rosa’s stifled breathing behind him, and from the corner of his eye he could see the shift and swirl of her magic. Please leave . . .

William shook his head. He turned on his heel and Luke held his breath. Then just as William reached the door he turned back.

‘Lad, listen.’ He came back across the cobbled floor towards Luke. Luke held his breath. Any second now he was going to come round the corner of the forge hearth and he would see Rosa and it would all be over. Behind him he heard Rosa’s panicked gasp and knew she knew this too – he felt her magic flare up like a fire in a draught, knew that she was gathering herself together, readying herself to cast—

‘No!’ He swung round, took a step backwards to put himself between her and William. ‘No! Rosa, don’t – not William.’

There was a sudden, perfect silence. A silence so complete he could hear the wind in the chimney, and then Rosa’s skirts rustled and she stood, in full view of William.

William’s mouth dropped open.

For a minute none of them said anything, then William gave a great guffaw.

‘You were with a girl last night? That’s what all this secrecy was about?’

Luke bit his lip, wondering if he could stand here barefaced and carry off the lie, pretend that Rosa was a tavern girl. But it would be all over as soon as she opened her mouth. She might not look much of a lady at the moment, but she still sounded like one.

‘What’s your name, love?’ William was asking Rosa. ‘Rosie, did he say?’

Before Luke could stop her, before he could jump in with a false name that would protect them both, she answered, her voice as clear and grave as if she were giving evidence against him.

‘Rosa. Rosa Greenwood.’

For a moment William didn’t connect the dots. He stood, his brow furrowed. Luke could almost hear the ticking of his thoughts: Heard that name somewhere . . . not a local . . .

Then the penny dropped. Luke could see it, to the very second. His uncle’s face went ashen and he looked from Luke, to Rosa, and then back again with a kind of horror.

‘My God, it’s her . It’s the witch!’

‘Yes.’ It was all Luke could say. There was no point in lying any longer – it was much too late.

‘Are you mad?’ William spoke in a kind of screaming whisper. ‘Why in hell’s name did you bring her here? You can’t do the job here, Luke. We’ll all be for the chop.’

For a minute Luke was too surprised to speak – then he almost laughed. After all this, after everything that had happened, William still thought he was going to do it. He felt as if his treachery were written on his face – and yet even William hadn’t guessed the truth of it. He had no idea of the depth of Luke’s betrayal.

‘I’m not going to kill her,’ he said. He felt light with the relief of speaking the truth, and dizzy with the stupidity of saying it aloud. ‘I can’t.’

‘She’s bewitched you.’ William spoke hoarsely. He was backing away towards the door, trying to put distance between himself and Rosa, his eyes flicking between her and Luke as if she were a tiger in the corner of the forge, not a frightened, injured girl. ‘That concussion, I knew it weren’t natural. She’s addled your head, Luke. Think, man! Think what this’ll mean – to you, to the Brotherhood. Her life or yours, Luke. Her life or yours!’

‘She hasn’t bewitched me,’ Luke said impatiently. He took a step forward, towards William, holding his hand out pleadingly. ‘Come on, Uncle. You can see it’s me, for God’s sake! Do I look bewitched? I tried to do it, not once but twice, God forgive me, and it nearly killed me . I tried to tell you what it was like when I came back to the forge that time – I’m not a murderer.’

‘But why in God’s name did you bring her here?’ William groaned.

‘I didn’t bring her – she came for me, and d’you know why? To tell me her fiancé, Sebastian Knyvet, was enslaving men and women and girls at his match factory off Brick Lane, and to ask for my help. And I turned her away with a curse and a threat to kill her. She could have gone home and left them there to rot, but she didn’t. She went back to free them herself, and got half killed in the process. Look at her!’

He didn’t say the rest: that he’d not only spared Rosa but had let Knyvet go – and with him the truth about Luke’s parents’ death. He’d turned away and gone back for Rosa. He had chosen her.

‘She’s been chosen!’ William hissed, echoing his thoughts so strangely that Luke flinched. ‘God’s chosen her to die, Luke! And I’ll not lose you for—’

‘God didn’t choose her,’ Luke broke in roughly. ‘I did. I stabbed that bloody pin. I picked her name. If God had anything to do with it, maybe it was to show me the madness of what we’re doing. Killing people because of their birthright? Men should be punished for their deeds, not for something they can’t help!’

‘Her life or yours!’ William shouted.

‘I don’t care!’ Luke bellowed back, the veins in his throat standing out. He slammed his fist down on the anvil, his face dark with anger. ‘I don’t care,’ he said more quietly. ‘I don’t believe it anyway – I know it’s what they say, but I don’t believe they’d do it. What, men who’ve known me since I was a nipper? Send me to the dogs because I wouldn’t kill a girl half my size?’

But William was shaking his head.

‘Don’t mistake the Brothers, Luke. They’d do it all right. Remember Ethan Wilder? Tall lad, skinny, apprentice at the printworks in the city?’