Philippa Carr - Witch from the Sea

It was a wild and fantastic story—the sort which attached themselves to old places like this.

I tried the iron-studded door. It would not move. Had I really expected it to?

I began to feel exhausted and fearing for the child retraced my steps back to the Crows’ Tower.

August came—the long-awaited month. A messenger had arrived from Lyon Court with the news that my mother would be setting out in a few days’ time.

One night I awoke startled and found that I was alone. The curtains drawn about the bed made it pitch black. It had been a stifling hot day and I had been quite exhausted by the weather and my condition.

I could hear something so I drew aside the curtain. I realized at once that it was the heavy rain. I got out of bed and went to the window. I could hear the rain pelting down on the stones and a wind was howling. A flash of lightning lit up the sky briefly. I saw the towers against the angry sky; then came the great crack of thunder which sounded as though it was overhead.

I went back to my bed. I could not sleep. I wondered where Colum was on such a night and whether the roads would be sodden when my mother set out from Lyon Court.

I lay still listening for the next clap of thunder, and I suppose because I did now find the days exhausting I was soon asleep.

When I awoke Colum was beside me. He was in a deep sleep. I rose noiselessly and was dressed before he awakened.

He rose yawning and I said to him, “What happened last night?”

Did I fancy it or was he suddenly alert? He said: “It was a fierce night.”

“What thunder!” I said. “I woke and got out of bed. There was one clap which must have been right overhead.”

“I was up,” he said. “There was a ship in distress out there.”

“How terrible … on such a night!”

“I thought there might be something we could do.”

“How good of you, Colum.”

He smiled at me in that tender way which I always so much appreciated because it seemed unnatural to him.

“When you really know me you’ll see I’m not such a bad fellow after all.”

“I am already beginning to ask myself if this is the case.”

It was a strange day that followed. The ship in distress had come to grief on the Devil’s Teeth. All day long the boats were going out to see if there were any survivors. Colum told me there was none.

How delighted I was to greet my mother. I was watching for her from the turret of the Crows’ Tower which gave a good view of the road. I felt a rush of emotion when I saw her sturdily seated on her horse with the grooms and two servants riding with her.

I was waiting at the portcullis to greet her. She swept me up in her arms and then had a good look at me.

“I see you are in good health and spirits,” she said. “Nothing to worry about. And by the look of it it seems as though we shall not have to wait long.”

She busied herself with preparations. She admired the cradle in which Colum himself had once lain. Generations of Casvellyns had used it. I wondered whether Nonna and Ysella had had any children and if so how they had managed to keep them hidden away. I must ask Colum some time. In any case, it was just a legend.

The weather seemed unbearably hot to me in my condition and it was a great joy to sit out of doors. There were not the gardens at Castle Paling that we had at Lyon Court, but we could sit in one of the grassy courtyards. My mother spread a rug for me and I would lie with my back against the wall and we would talk.

She was very pleased with my marriage. She had become convinced that it was right for me, in spite of its beginnings.

“Colum and Jake,” she said, “are of a kind and that is the kind of man women like us need. It is good when one can look back and say this and that happened for the best.”

“It seems so strange to me that a year ago I did not know Colum,” I marvelled.

“Time in such matters is not important. I can see you are happy.”

“Yet how much you wanted me to marry Fennimore Landor!”

“You would have had a peaceful life with him, but perhaps a dull one.”

“When is he to marry?”

“In September.”

“How strange that such a man should so quickly make up his mind.”

“I gather from his mother that he has known this Mistress Lee for many years. They have been childhood friends. Of course he was fond of you; he wanted to marry you; and it was ideal too in view of the amalgamation. But when you married he renewed his friendship with Mistress Lee. Their families are pleased about it and it seems a suitable match.”

“They hope to start trading next year,” she told me. “It is amazing how long these matters take to arrange. Your father chafes against delay. You know what an impatient man he is. I am sure it is the thought of getting the better of the Spaniards that makes him so pleased with the venture.”

“But the Spaniards are finished.”

My mother looked slightly worried. “I am not so sure. Admiral Drake has taken out a fleet of men-o’-war and attacked towns in Spain and Portugal. Why should he do that if they were so defeated? Why should he feel it necessary to give them another blow? I heard before I left that over a thousand gentlemen accompanied him and that only just over three hundred returned. Then our men have seized sixty ships in the Tagus which belonged to the Hanse towns there. It was found that these ships contained stores to fit out a fleet to come against us.”

“My father and Colum think that the Spaniard has been beaten for ever.”

“I cannot believe such a powerful nation could be finished so completely. What I long to see, Linnet, is an end to war and conflict. That is why this peaceful trading project appeals to me so much. There is so much more that is interesting in life than fighting. I heard that a mill has been set up in a place in Kent called Dartford where they are making paper. Imagine that, Linnet! How much easier it will be for us to write to each other. I call that progress—not one side killing more than the other. And something else. I heard of a new plant the other day. It is called saffron—a kind of crocus. Its stigmas make cakes yellow and give them a most distinctive flavour.”

“Have you tried it?”

“I have not seen it yet. It has only just been brought to England. But I intend to at the first opportunity.”

And so we walked and passed our days most happily, for she had brought with her not only the clothes she had made for my baby and new recipes for my tasting, but that sense of comfort which only she could give me.

She brought back memories of my father and young Damask who had so wanted to come with her, and had made a doll for the baby. My father had insisted that messengers be sent as soon as my baby was born with word that I had a fine healthy boy. Edwina, who now had her own little boy and wanted everyone to know of her contentment, sent affectionate messages. It was like seeing them all.

I was very happy during those last days and even the apprehension which must come to a woman who is about to have her first child was stilled by my mother’s presence.

It was not a difficult labour and to my intense delight I gave birth to a healthy boy.

I had never seen Colum so overjoyed. He snatched the baby from my mother and marched round the bedchamber with him. Then he came and stared down at me. I thought I had never been so proud and happy in my life.

I had reached the summit of happiness. I had my beautiful son whom we named Connell and he delighted me in all ways. I marvelled that this perfect creature was my own son and I rejoiced in him doubly when I saw Colum’s pride.

If he had been out, as soon as he returned to the castle he would go to the child’s nursery and satisfy himself that all was well. He would pick up the boy and lift him high in the air. Jennet and I would say that it was no way to treat such a young baby but Connell did not seem to mind. If he were crying—and he had a lusty pair of lungs and a strong temper—he would stop when his father lifted him up even when he was very young. As he grew a little older it was clear that he was fascinated by his father.