Philippa Carr - Witch from the Sea

Then I noticed the sand among the cobbles. There was a good deal of it. I wondered idly how it could have got there. Could it have been blown up in the storm? Impossible. It would have to come right over the top of the tower to get there. The only answer was that people who had been on the beach had been walking here. Strangely enough, I had been here the day before and not noticed it.

I was there on the stone step close to the iron-studded door, so whoever had brought it in had stood on that stone step.

As I stood there I saw a glittering object and stooping to pick it up I saw that it was an amulet. It glittered like gold.

I examined it. It was oval in shape, about an inch wide and two inches long. It was beautifully engraved and what was depicted fascinated me. It was the figure of a beautiful youth about whose head was a halo, and at his feet lay a horned goat; one of the youth’s feet was resting on the goat as though he had vanquished it. There was a name engraved on it in very small letters so that I could scarcely read it: I took it to my room and examined it and at last I made out the name to be VALDEZ. So it was Spanish. Someone must have dropped it. Someone who had been on the shore and brought the sand up on his boots.

I put the amulet in the drawer.

Colum returned two days later. I saw him riding towards the castle with the men and the pack-horses. They were unladen.

I went to the kitchen and ordered that the joints should be set on the spits immediately and that one of his favourite pies should be made without delay—squab perhaps as there was plenty of bacon and mutton and Colum had the Cornishman’s love of pastry.

We dined alone in the little room where we had our first meal together. Colum always wanted us to be there alone on occasions like this. It showed an unsuspected sentimentality.

I put on the diamond chain with the ruby locket and it was a very happy evening. It was when I put the chain and locket away that I opened it and looking at the space for a miniature inside it decided that I should like to have a picture of my son there after the custom.

I smiled, thinking of suggesting this to Colum and that he might be a little disappointed because I did not choose to have his picture. But would he ever allow himself to be painted? Then of course I might have other children and I should want pictures of them all. While I was thus idly thinking I was stroking the edge of the locket and to my amazement the layer in which was a space for a picture sprang up and I was looking into a woman’s face. She was beautiful, with clouds of dark hair, an olive skin and languorous dark eyes. So cleverly had it been painted that in spite of the fact that it was so small all this was apparent.

How strange that an unknown woman’s face should be depicted in a locket which was given to me by my husband. It could only mean that the locket had belonged to someone else before me.

Colum came into the room while I sat there holding it in my hand.

“Look at this, Colum,” I said, and I gave it to him.

He took it and looked down at the woman’s face.

I could see that he was taken aback.

“This is very strange,” he said.

“Clearly it once belonged to someone else. Where did you get it?”

I saw that for the moment he was nonplussed. Then he recovered himself.

“It could not have been the one I wished made for you. The goldsmith has lied to me. People dispose of their valuables and articles of gold, silver and precious stones are sold as new, for how could one be sure whether such articles had been freshly wrought or not?”

“So the goldsmith sold you the locket as new.”

“And,” said Colum, “it was not. I must take the fellow to task. How do you feel about it now; Can you wear something that was not made especially for you?”

I said: “I don’t want to part with the locket. Perhaps some day I might meet this mysterious lady. It is exquisitely done. The painter must have been a man of talent.”

“Give it to me,” said Colum. “The miniature shall be removed. You can put in something of your own family. I shall have your initials engraved on it. That goldsmith must do this, since he has sold me a secondhand article for a new one.”

Later on I said: “I’ll keep it as it is. Perhaps I could have pictures of my babies in it. That reminds me.” I opened a drawer and took out the amulet. “I found this, Colum,” I told him.

He frowned and almost snatched it from me.

“Where?”

“In the courtyard.”

He examined it in silence and I wondered whether he was as interested in the article or just trying to control his annoyance.

“Which courtyard?” he snapped.

“The one before Ysella.”

“I told you not to go there.”

“It was perfectly safe and I must walk somewhere since I can’t ride. What is it? I thought it looked like an amulet.”

“It is an amulet. I’d say this belonged to a Catharist. I have seen them before.”

“What sort of people are they?”

“It is a sect that has been in existence for many years, and has its roots in pre-Christian times. These people, though, profess to believe in two gods, the good one and the evil one.”

“As Christians do.”

“It is so. But the general belief is that these people serve the Devil. They profess they do not and this is the kind of amulet they carry with them to prove it. But they meet at midnight in what are called covens and they worship the Horned Goat. This shows the good triumphant. I have seen this kind of thing before.”

“I wonder whose it is. Do you think we have one of the Catharists in the castle?”

“I will discover,” he said, holding out his hand for it.

“It is beautifully engraved,” I pointed out. “See, there is a name on it. Valdez. That’s Spanish, is it not?”

“By God, so it is. Who could have come by it? A case of another second-hand article I’ll swear.”

“I like it,” I said. “It conveys the idea of virtue prevailing over evil.”

“I must find who owns it.”

He put it into his pocket.

“Let me know when you do find the owner,” I said. “I should like to know who would have such a thing.”

I sensed he was faintly disturbed.

Later that afternoon I went down to the shore. It was warm and there was a faint mist in the air. I could see the sorry sight of a vessel caught on the rocks, toppling drunkenly as the waves washed over her. I thought of the people who had confidently set out from some place on their way to a destination which they had never reached and wondered how many had perished in the storm.

Parts of the vessel still floated on the water, useless pieces of wood—the remains of what had once been a stalwart ship; and again I thought of my father, sailing on the treacherous waters which could be so calm and smiling and in a brief hour so cruel. All people who went to sea did so at their own risk, of course. They all knew that they needed good fortune as well as skill to come safely to land. All his life my father had been a sailor and he had come safely through. Men such as he was thought themselves invincible. Even the sea could not tame them.

A piece of wood was being brought in by the tide—in it came and was carried back, in and back, each time a little nearer. I watched it feeling a great desire to hold it in my hands.

Nearer and farther, tossed hither and thither on the waves. Now a big one brought it right to my feet.

I picked it up and I saw that it had letters on it. There they were: San Pedro .

So the ship out there was a Spaniard. A thought flashed into my head then—the amulet which I had found in the courtyard was also Spanish.

There seemed some strange significance in this but I was not sure what.